On the drive home from a speaking engagement in Savannah, I answered a call from Tink, who sounded fairly frantic.
Whenever possible, he travels with me. But for that trip, he was on deadline with a movie script so he had stayed home and stayed up all night, working against the hours that were ticking down. In a somewhat high-pitched voice, he sputtered out the problem.
Rodney had called. My brother-in-law. He asked Tink if he would come and help him load hay. Rodney never asks for help. He always gives it.
“I had to tell him ‘no’ because I have to get this script in.” Tink felt awful. Especially because he always tells Rodney, “Call me anytime.”
“Okay, let me see if I can find someone.” I pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a Taco Bell where I sat and tried to think who I could call to help. Ten minutes went by and I couldn’t think of anyone. What happened to the days when there were neighbors to call or teenage boys looking to make a few dollars?
I snapped my fingers and called a friend who lives nearby, who gladly and immediately said, “I’ll go right now.
Ronda Rich, Columnist
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