I love hearing good stories, and the older generation has the best. On Sunday, I took some folks from my senior’s fitness class kayaking at Desoto Falls. We normally go from the dam at the falls up to the smaller dam at Camp Skyline and come back. One in the group was a guy named David Mayo, who is 79 but very active. As we drove away that day, he regaled us with a story.
“I once went to band camp at Camp Skyline,” he began. “I was in tenth grade at Gadsden High School and played trumpet in the band. I met a girl there, and we kissed in the basement where they stored old furniture. Then I asked her to be my girlfriend.”
“You dog,” I replied. “I never went to any kind of camp, but I guess anything can happen over the course of summer.” After he smiled and explained the camp was only one week long, I said, “You move fast. Do you remember her name?”
He nodded. “Her name was Lynda Sanders.”
I was impressed that he remembered not just her name but every detail of the event. “That’s amazing. I guess you never forget your first old flame. Did you ever see her again after that?”
David laughed. “Yep. Married her. So, you might say I saw her again for the next 60 years.”
He went on to tell us how they snuck over to Georgia and had a Justice of the Peace marry them. David and Lynda were only 16 years old. A little old man sat in a wooden chair playing a banjo and spitting tobacco juice into a spittoon. He served as the witness as well as the entertainment.
As you can imagine, neither of their parents were too excited about them eloping. David’s only means of income was from a newspaper route, so he decided he needed a better job. One day, he saw a poster of Uncle Sam pointing at him, saying, “I Want You.” David assumed good old Uncle Sam was really talking directly to him, so he joined the Navy.
David was stationed in California, and he and Lynda spent most of his military years there. Sure, they had their share of problems, as young couples often do, but they stuck it out for 60 years. Sadly, Lynda passed away three years ago.
As I sat in front of my computer trying to figure out what to write about this week, I called David and asked if I could write about this. After all, when a story begins, “This one time, at band camp,” you know it’s going to be good.
Neal Wooten is a columnist in the Mountain Valley News and North Jackson Press newspapers. He can be reached at [email protected].
