Three Vagabonds

Three Vagabonds - © Kent Fletcher
September 12, 2006

Gosh, some days the memories flow from my mind so fast, I can hardly keep up, can hardly get them down on cyber-paper quick enough before the next one flow. Perhaps I should at least jot them down on paper scraps, but my pockets would fill too fast.

Once upon a time, three kids used to roam the streets of Cleveland, MS, for reasons known and unknown. A Catholic, a Jew, and a Protestant. What a combination. Jody Correro, Chester Kossman, and Kent Fletcher. If Chester wasn't available, Jeffrey Livingston would fill in. All of us were welcomed into each others' homes, no pretense of bigotry was present. We were who we were, and who really cared, anyway, as long as we didn't get into really, really bad trouble.

I remember one distinct time when we three were at the funeral home, trying to draw pictures of Cadillac or Buick or Oldsmobile trucks. What an unheard-of thing back then. Oldsmobile closed down its plants several years ago in favor of the Buick, and I believe Buick now has some kind of SUV. I know Cadillac does have a pickup. Wild, ain't it?

One day, the three vagabonds decided to go "camping". Chester picked up Jody, then they came by my house to get me. Off we went on College Street, heading out west. At that time, College Street abruptly ended where the zig-zag curve is now. Nothing but one of the Aguzzi's fields out there, all the way to Bishop Road, which was graveled then, not blacktop or concrete.

On the north side of said field was a drainage ditch. Guessing, it would have been about in the backyard of where Leon Kamien's house is now. It had trees growing from the fertile soil, and when we were there, that day, the ditch was dry as a bone. But it was a "neat" place, a place where we could play our games, or just sit back like old folks and watch the time slip away. So we hung out for a while, eating the sandwiches and drinking the water we had brought along.

After too short a time, all three of the vagabonds began to get a bit thirsty. The sun was riding high, and it was summertime, too, so soon the thoughts of cool, clear water began to overtake whatever activities we were doing. None of us really wanted to return home, so Jody decided the closest water would be over at the Aguzzi's house at the corner of Bishop Road and Yale Street Extended.

I can see it now, some 50 years later: Three kids half walking, half stumbling across a vacant but plowed field, making a beeline for a house in the distance. Seems like it took forever to get there, but Jody was the determined one, and Chester and I were lagging behind, big time. All of us were probably sweating like dogs, and I do remember finally arriving at the appointed house. Jody knocked on a side-door (remember when the front doors were mostly for important guests or just decoration?) to ask for some water from the garden hose outside. Of course, the Aguzzis were Catholic, too, and recognized Jody right off the bat. The three vagabonds had their thirst slaked from that water hose, that good, good Cleveland water.

After resting a bit, the three of us sauntered down Yale Street Extended, which was also still graveled, back into town, caught South Fifth Avenue, each of us dropping off at our respective homes. What an adventure! What fun! Never happened again.