The Cloud Is Drifting Slowly Across the Sky
By Norman Paul
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Someday, I will cast no shadow, and the cloud will have slowly gone beyond the horizon. Yes, the cloud is slowly disappearing.
The Bible tells us that our days are like a cloud that crosses the sky and slowly disappears.
Today, I am going back to the place of my youth where the cloud first appeared.
A certain amount of nervous anticipation began to funnel through my brain as the turnoff to my past approached. A beautiful multicolored leaf with its beautiful hues of green, gold, and red blew across my windshield. I do not need any more reminders that Father Time is slowly ticking away.
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The Cloud Is Drifting Slowly Across the Sky - Norman Paul
Copyright © 2014 by Paul Norman.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Rev. date: 10/17/2014
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Dedicated to my dear wife Linda, who is so lovely and sweet that all my searching for a partner in life is over.
Seventy-five years with days so full of life, yet now, now it all seems so few. Yes, the cloud is drifting slowly across the sky. My life is like that cloud, slowly drifting away. There is nothing I can do about it, as the Bible says, that man is appointed once to die.
Someday I will cast no shadow, and the cloud will have slowly gone beyond the horizon. Yes, the cloud is slowly disappearing.
The Bible tells us that our days are like a cloud that crosses the sky and slowly disappears.
Today I am going back to the place of my youth where the cloud first appeared.
A certain amount of nervous anticipation began to funnel through my brain as the turnoff to my past approached. A beautiful multicolored leaf with its beautiful hues of green, gold, and red blew across my windshield. I do not need any more reminders that Father Time is slowly ticking away.
In the distance, I saw the Mountain View Road sign and knew I was getting closer. What would it look like some fifty years later? Winding around the narrow curves of those old dusty roads, which I had walked so many days of my youth, I crossed the two bridges and turned into the driveway. My, how everything looks so small as I stood in the same place that I’d stood some fifty years ago. Why, it even seems that the same small white cloud that floated lazily overhead had also come back with me. I wondered if truly this was the same cloud and if it did come back for the same reason to take a final look before it too must disappear.
A great author once said, You cannot go home again,
but we all revisit the places of our youth, hoping to find that spark we once felt. The field that once looked so large now looked very small. The old house that was really small when I lived there looked even smaller. The field that I once stood in hoeing a row of corn was now someone’s front lawn. As I stood there, someone came to the door and asked why I was there. I said, This is where I once lived, and I just came back out of curiosity to revisit the place of my youth.
They looked at me with a strange suspicion, the results of modern day’s paranoia that everyone has to be watched carefully. When I first lived here, if anyone came by, we would welcome them with open arms, as they would break the monotony of our simple life.
But this is the place where it all started; memories of that warm summer day began to appear. It was to be an exciting summer since my friend Don and I have been chosen for Boys State; it was to take place in Chapel Hill in June. It was May of 1956, almost a full year before I was to go to Chapel Hill as a freshman.
These were the years that God would put His loving arms of grace about my person and keep me safe. Looking back, I can see how great this measure of grace had been. The days began to speedily pass by that May, and soon we were departing for Boys State.
I had always known that I would go to college but did not know where the desire or intelligence to go came from. My parents were very smart people, but they had at best a fifth- to eighth-grade education. Here I am in my junior year in high school and did not even know that I would have to apply to college, let alone be accepted. But this trip would decide for me the college that I wanted to go to. Don and I were taken to the university by the president of the Lions Club, Mr. Hall, and they also paid for our stay. When we arrived, we were put in Everett Dorm. Must be heaven, I thought. What a wonderful place to stay. I knew that this was the dorm for me and that I would come to Chapel Hill to go to college. Later on when I applied, I asked for Everett Dorm and received my first choice, almost unheard of for a freshman. Little did I know that this was the armpit of dorms. However, it was great for me, since this would be my first place to live that had indoor plumbing and warm showers.
Don and I had separate roommates, which would help us get used to the college life. As I was unpacking, my roommate, a young man named David, came into our room. It only took me just a few minutes to unpack as I had almost nothing anyway. But David was a different story as he had a suitcase and several changes of clothing. After unpacking, David said, I am hungry. What about you?
Having brought nothing with me, we decided to go downtown and get something to eat and look at the campus. We passed through the arboretum, and I was just amazed at all the beautiful flowers and could have spent hours just looking. I had my mother’s love for flowers. David said, Come on. We do not have that much time.
We found a nice little cafe and ate a sandwich. Later we found out that we could have eaten free at Lenoir Dinning Hall. That sure was good,
said David. Let’s go into this store and look around.
Well, I just kind of stood around since I had no money to buy anything with. But something did catch my eye. Yes, a pretty young girl was clerking in the store. Our eyes met, and she smiled at me. That was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Now what should I say that might make her want to go out with me? I have this new line that I have thought up but not used yet. I walked over to where she was and said, My name is Paul. What is yours?
She said, My name is Jill. Can I help you?
I said, Yes. What are you doing Saturday night?
She said, I don’t know. Why do you ask?
Well, I thought we could go somewhere and get married.
At first she seemed amused, and then it turned to, Oh, brother, what a line.
What about my boyfriend?
She smiled as if she had trumped my effort to win her over. Well, I do not want to marry him, just you.
That brought a small smile to her face, and she did not seem completely uninterested, so I thought I would try out on her what I felt would melt her heart. You see, Darling Jill, I am new in town, and it would be so nice if I had a beautiful young lady like you to show me around. I am just a poor country boy and I have no one to talk to, to keep me from feeling oh so blue.
She said, You think that I’m going to fall for a line like that? You must think I am stupid.
Not to be deterred, I said, I can tell by looking at you that you are a caring and loving person. I know you have great compassion, and we could have a great time, you and I.
She turned her head and said, I don’t want to be mean or rude. You do seem to be a nice young man, but I’m not interested.
But, Jill,
I said with the most heartbroken look, I could muster. I can see now that we were meant for each other. What fun we would have together.
Jill kind of looked somewhat amused and said with her sweet soft voice, If only we had met several years ago.
She looked sincere, but I am in love, and that is that. There we go again, broken heart numbered in the dozens.
I was brought back to reality when David finally quit looking around and said, Let’s go. We should be getting back because we want to see what is going on and represent our home schools in a way that would pay them back for selecting us.
Our room was way up on the third floor of Everett. As we entered in the dorm, we found the rest of the dorm people in an adjacent room, discussing who we will nominate for office. I found out later that most schools send more than two delegates; and they had already met with other schools in their district and planned who they would nominate, obviously, one of their own. I did not get picked to run for office so we went back to our dorm room. In the dorm, I noticed my roommate kept pulling things out of his pocket and putting them on the credenza. Hey, where did you get all those things?
I asked. Well, in downtown chapel hill while we were in the store. You do remember the store and that cute sales girl?
was his reply. But I do not remember you buying anything.
Buy? I don’t buy anything. I just picked them up.
Well, when did you do that?
While you so conveniently kept that pretty young girl busy, I was just loading up my pockets.
Suddenly, I froze, and my heart started beating rather fast, a condition that I was to find myself in several times during my college days. But that’s illegal,
I stammered, thinking that the police would arrive at any moment, busting down our doors and locking us up. Oh, it is only illegal if you get caught, and I’ve never been caught.
He laughed. Yes, I could see how that would look to the fine citizens of King: local boy locked up for shoplifting while at Boys State.
Well, I made up my mind. I was not going anymore to any store with that crazy fellow
David was elected to some kind of office, but I was not. However, more exciting things were on the horizon. I was soon to forget the humiliation of not being selected because Don, David, and I were going to find some girls on campus. Somehow David seemed to know much about the campus and said that he would get us a date. David called the nurses’ dorm to try to get us a date, but the Carolina girls would not fall for the line that we were transferred students here for summer school. David described each of us as about six feet tall with dark wavy hair, when in fact we were around five feet seven inches to five feet nine inches with GI haircuts. We could not convince them to even meet with us.
However being the resourceful people that we were—after all, we were selected because of our leadership ability—we came up with what we thought was a better idea, a panty raid. We had heard how college men raided girls’ dorms, and the girls were so appreciative. There was no way we thought that the girls would