A REMEMBERAMBLE FOR FRIDAY, 5/22/2026

HELLO FRIENDS!

I hope this fine Friday feels full of fun, fellowship, fine food, and is not fraught with feelings of foreboding from any quarter. There we go, I like to toss out some Friday frivolity at first, before stalking and finding the serious stuff.

I heard the term "yuppies," this week and only then realized how very long it has been since it was in common usage. Some words are high fashion items, and go out of style quickly, even as other, run-of-the-mill words soldier on ad infinitum.

"Ad infinitum" is Latin for "longer than a long, long time," and that is a long, long while, all in all. Buppies were a related subset of society, that followed Yuppiedom into obscurity. I doubt any wordsmith in the world could pen this many words about a word or two, and never come close to talking about them.

Think about that! Impressive, ain't it? Don't try this at home, as I am what they call a "perfessional." Now, put that in your smipe and poke it. Okay, now for the slightly ballyhooed, promised, aforementioned, second Redi-Aid story foretold in yesterday's rememberamble.

It is my favorite Redi-Aid story, and is all about the late, great, Waylon Johnson, of our lil ole town, Garfield. Let me tell you about "Ole Waylon," we will begin with him as a callow youth, as he made his mark upon our fair city.

The venerable old store building above was the scene of Waylon's most dramatic day of his misspent youth. One fine day Waylon was in this store, and had a dispute with the proprietor, what the dispute was about, I have no clue, but evidently young Waylon got pretty hot about it, pulled his pistol and commenced shooting the man.

As the man hit the floor and blood splattered the wall behind the poor man, Waylon lit out with that vision of bloody murder filling his hot head. He booked it, broke camp, got gone, and made himself "scace" as my daddy would say.

He was found three days later over in Tombs County, was taken peaceably into custody. When the lawman took him into custody, he asked if he reckoned he would hang for murder? The deputy replied, not unless you killed somebody. Waylon was surprised and asked if his victim was still alive.

Then he was enlightened about his crime. He had missed the man completely, he hit the floor to keep from being shot, and the "blood," was Cherry Redi-Aid. He had busted a nickel's worth. It was concentrated and went a long way. The judge was a bit stern and told Waylon he had enough of Waylon's trouble and he was going to prison or to the US Army.

He went to the Army, and returned to Garfield as a stellar citizen...well, as stellar as any of those Johnson boys could be. So, that is my best Redi-Aid story, now I will close today with the most famous story ever associated with Waylon Johnson, one that is a local legend indeed.

Waylon Johnson was an old man, he was the city employee, he was the police, the water meter reader, and all around likeable old cuss. One fine day, as usual he and others sat at the store and gas station combination that was housed in the hideous green and white building across from our convenience store of today.

Truth be known, there was likely the store owner, a few of old guys, and some younguns hanging about, with Waylon on the old bench as usual. Suddenly there came the roaring sound of a car approaching Garfield from the direction of Twin City that was running well over a hundred miles an hour.

He was not slowing down a whit for Garfield. It was there in a second, and gone in another. Everyone there had been looking toward it's coming, and their heads all in unison whipped quickly to the left to see it disappear toward Thrift and Butts. Then, as you might expect, all eyes went suddenly upon old Waylon to see what he would do about it.

The old blue Chevy Nova, Garfield's police car was in a shed at City Hall, about 2/10ths of a mile down the hill. Waylon, knowing all eyes were on him as the Garfield policeman, and that he was the man of the hour, so-to-speak, stood up straight, walked out into the highway, stood on the centerline.

Waylon looked toward Twin City from whence it had come, and then in the direction it had vanished, looked at the lil crowd, spit baccer juice on the centerline, and said, "now that sumbitch was haulin' ass," and walked back over to the bench and sat down.

That tale went viral as we say these days, and has been told and retold by many, and if you mention the story to any older Garfieldian, they will always say, "oh yeah, I was up there that day, I saw it." Hundreds of them. As for the cuss words, a story like that can't be censored or it loses its punch. Please forgive my quoting of it.

Come back soon, please, we love having you here.

Numbers 6: 24-26, KJV

we boyz three, babee conway, lil merle, & me