The Blue Ridge Mountains of western North Carolina provide the early setting for Tales of Two Gails. Two friends, both named Gail, close for more than sixty years, share true stories of meeting challenges and overcoming hardships with stories of inspiration, faith, and humor.

Gail Shepherd Diederich and Gail Kelly Lester began their friendship as tiny babies in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Grandparents for both provided support and love, guiding two little girls through family hardships. In the years that followed high school, the lives of the two Gails went in different directions; during decades of professional success, marriage, and raising children the two rarely saw each other but never lost contact.

Their strong bond of friendship held them close in heart. Then e-mail came along; the distance between them was bridged, and the two friends were close again. One Gail was a news writer, and both enjoyed writing a good story. They took off on a late-in-life adventure, telling of the people and events that led them successfully through their lives. Their stories are told with humor, strong faith, and hopes that the stories will inspire others to move past negatives and find the positives in life.

TALES OF TWO GAILS

By GAIL SHEPHERD DIEDERICH GAIL KELLY LESTER

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2010 Gail Shepherd Diederich and Gail Kelly Lester
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-5447-2

Contents

Acknowledgments By Gail Kelly Lester..............................xiPreface...........................................................xvINTRODUCTION From Birth to Book..................................1Two Gails Through Sixty Years.....................................7Living, Loving and Overcoming.....................................12Taking to the Woods...............................................19Grandma's Love Lives On...........................................23Miz Shoo-der's Bikkits............................................28Margie and the Bubble Blower......................................30A Grandpa's Love..................................................33Grandpa's Coat Pocket.............................................38Sam, Prince Albert, and Buried Treasure...........................42Chicken Stealing..................................................45Mrs. Arnold's Words...............................................48Aunt Maggie and a Box of Books....................................53Bobby and the Book*...............................................58Denied but Not Rejected...........................................60Growing Up Without Electricity....................................65Going to Florida..................................................69A Different Kind of Mother........................................73Teenage Antics....................................................81Small Rumps and a Turkey Roaster Pan..............................87A Letter in the Mail and Someone Believes.........................90A New Beginning and a Final Goodbye...............................93Caught on Camera..................................................101Different Roads, Same Friendship..................................106Teaching Found Me*................................................109Miss Hazel*.......................................................114A Special Gift*...................................................117A Bully, My Kitty and Changed Ways................................119A Brown Turkey Made Me Think......................................1221 Baby Girl + 1 Baby Calf = 2 Frantic Farmers.....................124Pacifiers, Mules, and Cornbread...................................130Eatin' Taters.....................................................133My Knight in Shining Armor........................................137Bullet and the Mob Boss...........................................143Olympic Gold......................................................147Green Jeep, Pink Car..............................................152High Heels and Heavy Things.......................................156The Road to Killeen...............................................159From Pink to Purpose..............................................164EPILOGUE..........................................................168

Chapter One

Two Gails Through Sixty Years By Gail Kelly Lester

We were brought up together from the time we were tiny girls in the same rural mountain community of three families living near a dirt road. One year older than me, Gail Shepherd (RHGail in these stories) had a full head of beautiful red hair, freckles sprinkling her nose and cheeks, a wide grin, and a gleam in her eyes contemplating from where the next new experience might come. Even ordinary mundane things offered the potential of becoming something significant and worthy of exploration. She was amazingly clever, possessed a vivid imagination, and remembered most everything in great detail.

Nearly three years older than me, with the same lovely red hair that glistened in the sun, was RHGail's sister, Ann. She had a quiet smile, enjoyed reading, was more studious, and less rambunctious than the two Gails, yet she was a good playmate. Even though we were younger, Ann participated in most of our early nonsensical escapades.

Our family living arrangements were similar. Ann, RHGail, and their parents resided with Mrs. Julie Shuler, their maternal grandmother. My mother and I lived within shouting distance with my grandparents and other extended family members including my cousin, Della, who was a few years older than all of us kids. In the early 1950s, three generations living together in the same home was fairly common in our area.

The only thing separating us from each other and a fun-filled day was a small "branch" of water flowing from the mountains, tumbling over rocks underneath a narrow foot-log spanning the narrow gap between two banks, a fence gate that was never locked, and permission from adults allowing us to play together. On most days, if we behaved, permission was granted, giving us freedom to roam the hills and hollows and explore new things.

"Hold my hand tightly so you don't fall in the creek," Della would warn as she fulfilled her responsibility of helping me safely across the foot log when I was a small child.

Once across, she would let go of my hand and turn to go back home. I'd burst through Mrs. Shuler's gate with wild abandon, hardly able to contain the excitement and anticipation of exploring new things and playing with my friend, RHGail. When it was time for me to go home Della dutifully came to retrieve me and usher me back across the foot-log.

Many times, I would make her task much more difficult by wailing loudly, "I don't want to go home!"

Nonetheless, Della would coerce me up the hill with some form of creative diversion. The scene repeated itself numerous times until I got old enough to cross the foot-log by myself.

In the days before every home had television, we were compelled to find creative ways to entertain ourselves with whatever was available, finding adventure in the simplest of pleasures. Climbing trees, along with games of hop-scotch and jump rope, kept us busy. Watching for the mail man to arrive at the end of the lane with the possibility of a letter from a distant loved one sent us racing from the porch to see what had been delivered. A large, empty hole dug in the sloping road bank and used as a root cellar, providing winter storage for vegetables, became a "cavern" we explored in the summer months. The depths of our imaginations went much farther than the actual hole. The barn loft offered numerous summer activities, though some were cut short by cautious adults.

"Stay out of that barn loft. You could fall out the door or down the manger and break your neck," they'd say, and send us away from the big loft with the sweet smelling hay and drying corn.

Areas of a giant maple tree's massive above-ground roots were "houses" for our stick dolls with leaf dresses. We each had our own "house" on opposite sides of the tree and our stick people visited each other, chatting over imaginary tea and sugar cookies. Exploring the spring house usually got us in trouble as did playing in the branch. Our parents thought we would surely catch a death of cold if our feet got wet in the cold mountain water.

Long summer days provided time to discover numerous ways to fill the hours between dawn and dusk. Fat June bugs, with one leg anchored to a string, became airplanes, buzzing helplessly in an attempt to escape our snare until the poor bug succumbed to our antics. Roly polies (woodlice) that lived underground in the soft earth alongside the woodshed couldn't escape us.

"Doodle bug, doodle bug, doodle, doodle, doodle," we droned, hovering low over the powdery dirt...