Friendship-what a blendship

BLUE JEANS

 

Smithfield, GA, was named after Wm. Smithfield in 1895. This particular Smithfield never tasted ham and was surely not the one who made Smithfield GA famous. The historic facts show his influence in establishing a new town that took off immediately, was progressive in every field. There was a public shower building, open twelve hours a day, six days a week, closed on Sunday Sabbaths. A large area was reserved in front of the dry goods store for horses and buggies.

 

Mayor Smithfield was a super solicitor, managed in one year to collect enough money to build an adequate library next to  schoolhouse #3.
#1 and 2 were in the closest town to Smithfield, Roxbury. The new library was, of course, named the Smithfield Library. Quickly it became the town hall, a place neighbors could chat, read yesterday's Smithfield news, and from the back storage room, see last month's Police Gazette.

 

For those who still care, have faded remembrances of their grand parents, aunts, uncles, they are in 2003, ready, ready as they will ever be to attend the opening of the new Library, Pratt 200. It is a magnificent edifice worthy of the t.v. cameras, the lengthening lines of excited residents, all expecting to be early birds.

 

By 8 a.m. three lines have been formed. There is chaos as the parking area white lines have not yet been painted on the tarmac. Cars park whichever way they can, wherever they can. Unasked, a few residents take charge, guide drivers to open areas, arrange them so emergency ambulances, cameras can get in and out.

 

If today's opening were for another World's Fair, I doubt the excitement would be less. I make no attempt to count those waiting for the doors to open as I see wonderful, interested mothers holding their youngsters' hands. Hove-around chairs that roll into a separate line, will probably be allowed in first. There are no stairs but a wide ramp, with railings is accessible. School is closed for the day. Tots to teens, to those preparing for college, do their best to wait patiently for the doors to open and when they do, a mad rush knocks the walnut stained double door off its hinges. It falls inward barely missing those aimed at the sign-in table, wanting to enroll, take books and magazines out the first day. Guards and teachers hold everyone back while the door is lifted by three or four grad students, hinges are re-adjusted and the door feels safe against the wall. It is roped off and things calm down a little.

 

Best friends, Jeanne Ross and Jean Colfax, had squeezed in right before the main door fell in, souring their day's plan. Their roving eyes for cute, new guys from Roxbury dimmed fast. Both girls had shopped 'til they almost dropped and had bought on sale the identical blue jeans, except for the labels and prices. Jean had Texas Wranglers. Jeanne bought Smith's Levins. She thought they were Levi's and couldn't return them. They looked and felt miserable, blue thru and thru.

 

Walking in step with each other, they left the opening of the library to everyone else, planned together to wear their blue jeans when they go to the movies Saturday. From a block away they realize no line is waiting to go in. The Met is closed for re-decoration until July 1.

 

Jean asks Jeanne if she wants to go to the malt shop. 'Why not? Sure.
Maybe two guys will like us in our blue jeans. Let's go, Friend.'Their luck remains the same. There are no eligible fellas hanging around waiting for them.

 

They lower the waist bands in their tight jeans and leave the malt shop alone.