There’s a saying, “It’s a small world.” It is. I say it regularly, yet when I’m reminded of just how small our world is, it never ceases to amaze me.
I planned a trip to the Reading Terminal Market for the weekend. I meant to get up early, go first thing and spend the rest of my Saturday afternoon cooking with my newly purchased ingredients. I was going to buy food to prepare a Valentines Day feast and needed to get going on it.
But one thing led to another, as usual in my life, and I left the house in the afternoon. Then I got stuck in traffic, made a wrong turn and got turned around. It was nearly 4 p.m. by the time I parked and started walking to the market.
Suddenly, I saw what looked like a familiar man, but I ignored it. I’ve only lived in the city for a few months and the chances of me running into someone familiar are slim.
Then, my professor from University of Missouri-Rolla, said, “Molly?”
It was him. Dr. Wayne Bledsoe, and his wife, Deb, were walking down the street. I love this couple, and they practically adopted me in my collegiate years. I worked as a circulation editor and columnist for a bluegrass magazine they owned. Under Deb’s tutelage, I learned about fashion, etiquette, work ethics and my then-suffering love life. She taught me a lot about journalism and so much more, especially the love life part. She schooled me on the importance of demanding respect from a significant other.
Wayne taught me about history in lecture-style classes and how to put together a great essay among other things. Despite our close relationship and how much I valued them both as mentors, the Bledsoes and I lost touch.
Since I moved from Missouri four years ago, I had only seen Deb once, when I visited my alma mater. Last they heard, I was living in Rehoboth Beach, Del.
Here they were, on the streets of Philly, walking out of the market, just as I was going into it. I had no idea they would be in town on a one-day layover. Turns out they went to New York City to see the West Minster Dog Show and on their way back stopped over to see a niece who lives in University City. They, too, had planned to go to the market in the morning, but were running late.
We caught up on gossip, what’s new in small-town Missouri and changes in the university. They sold the magazine and are both retired now, they’re in perfect health, and they said they loved visiting Philly, and of course, running into an old friend, quite accidentally.
It really is a small world.
I planned a trip to the Reading Terminal Market for the weekend. I meant to get up early, go first thing and spend the rest of my Saturday afternoon cooking with my newly purchased ingredients. I was going to buy food to prepare a Valentines Day feast and needed to get going on it.
But one thing led to another, as usual in my life, and I left the house in the afternoon. Then I got stuck in traffic, made a wrong turn and got turned around. It was nearly 4 p.m. by the time I parked and started walking to the market.
Suddenly, I saw what looked like a familiar man, but I ignored it. I’ve only lived in the city for a few months and the chances of me running into someone familiar are slim.
Then, my professor from University of Missouri-Rolla, said, “Molly?”
It was him. Dr. Wayne Bledsoe, and his wife, Deb, were walking down the street. I love this couple, and they practically adopted me in my collegiate years. I worked as a circulation editor and columnist for a bluegrass magazine they owned. Under Deb’s tutelage, I learned about fashion, etiquette, work ethics and my then-suffering love life. She taught me a lot about journalism and so much more, especially the love life part. She schooled me on the importance of demanding respect from a significant other.
Wayne taught me about history in lecture-style classes and how to put together a great essay among other things. Despite our close relationship and how much I valued them both as mentors, the Bledsoes and I lost touch.
Since I moved from Missouri four years ago, I had only seen Deb once, when I visited my alma mater. Last they heard, I was living in Rehoboth Beach, Del.
Here they were, on the streets of Philly, walking out of the market, just as I was going into it. I had no idea they would be in town on a one-day layover. Turns out they went to New York City to see the West Minster Dog Show and on their way back stopped over to see a niece who lives in University City. They, too, had planned to go to the market in the morning, but were running late.
We caught up on gossip, what’s new in small-town Missouri and changes in the university. They sold the magazine and are both retired now, they’re in perfect health, and they said they loved visiting Philly, and of course, running into an old friend, quite accidentally.
It really is a small world.
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