Cumberland Times-News


July 20, 2013

The Buffalo Girls came out that night

Being a practical man, I once went to a New Year’s Eve party and sat in the living room with the women, while the rest of the men were in the kitchen.

The company was better-looking in the living room, the conversation was more lively, and that’s where the food was.

Likewise, I sat on the porch of a Gettysburg motel with Cathy (with a C) and the Buffalo (N.Y.) Girls  — Peggy, Diane and Kathy (with a K) — while Capt. Gary, Harry and the others were within eyeshot, but not earshot.

I’ve laughed harder, but can’t remember when I’ve laughed longer. While at Little Round Top, we met two other people from Buffalo, who told us everybody who lives in that place is crazy. Considering the amount of snow those people get, it’s no wonder.

The Buffalo Girls wanted me to write about them and Cathy (with a C), but that is challenging. They went ghost-hunting at Sachs Covered Bridge, and Cathy (with a C) described in some detail what the Buffalo Girls did that may have scared the ghosts away.

All I can tell you is that it involved beer and what eventually happens to beer. I gathered that a certain amount of distress and some raising of voices also may have been involved in the steps that were taken to relieve the distress. If I had been a ghost in that place, I’d have skedaddled, too.

Cathy (with a C) has a relatively new toy in the form of a computer app that answers questions vocally on her smartphone. You talk to it, and it talks back in a female voice.

It says things like, “Here’s what I found” and “Would you like me to search the Web for that information?”

A couple of times, when Cathy (with a C) was putting it through its paces, it replied, “I’m not sure how to respond to that question.”

One thing she asked had to do with what the computer might do to amuse itself when it was alone and nobody was pestering it with questions ... and the psychological consequences that might result from an excess of such behavior. (I said this would be challenging.)

An e-mail I just received from Cathy (with a C) informs me that her daughter (DP-15, the 15-year-old Diva Princess) says I’d better not mention the “makeup obsession” she has developed.

Good luck with that.

“Makeup obsession” is Cathy (with a C)’s term ... not mine. What I observed on DP-15’s part was perfectly normal behavior — for as much as I understand female behavior at any age level, which is not to any significant extent — and I told her she was doing it right.

If I can’t tell a woman has makeup on until I get within a few feet of her, she’s on point with it. If I can see warpaint clear across the room, not so much. As anybody who works in an auto body shop can tell you, paint doesn’t cover up blemishes. It makes them easier to see.

DP-15 said she was putting on a new face (I told her I thought the old one was perfectly fine) as I walked past.

“Don’t look!” she said.

“I won’t look if you won’t,” I said, letting myself into the bathroom.

Later that night, I was alone in my motel room with two other women — Lacey (Gary’s niece) and Shay (his cousin), who were staying in Jaynie’s room.

They are adorable and differ from other younger women in that they have personalities and are fun to be with. They have a sense of humor and you can have intelligent conversations with them. They interacted with the rest of us and spent little time texting.

I was stretched out on the bed (fully clothed) when they knocked at the door.

“We don’t know where Jaynie is,” said one of them. “She has the key to the room, and we’re locked out.” Unknown to us, she and Gary had made a side trip to Gettysburg Eddie’s.

When I invited them in, they promptly crawled into Gary’s bed and pulled the covers up over their heads — which is the way Jaynie said they sleep.

It was the last I saw of them until the following day, although I remember Gary making a brief early-morning appearance at the door to tell me he was going to escort them back to their room.

I waited for Gary to return. Then I waited some more. Eventually, I went to sleep.

When I awoke the next morning, he was there and told me, “Jaynie locked the keys in her room. I had to go find the guy who has the master key so they could get in. I didn’t get to bed until 3:30.”

Capt. Gary and I adore Jaynie. She’s our little sister. I told her one of the things I like most about her is that she is ubiquitous (might be the first time I’ve ever used that word).

She is everywhere and associates with everyone who is around. She spent some time with each of us, including me.

We were walking from the motel to Eddie’s, when I found myself holding hands with her.

I told her, “I’m 65 years old and don’t know when the last time was I did this.” She rewarded me with a smile.

I’ve never been a hand-holder, but this was all right. Not “we’re-in-love” hand-holding; more like two little kids who are buddies, holding hands and skipping down the street ... on the way to get a beer.

One day we were leaving Little Round Top, Capt. Gary and I having spent about five hours in our woolen uniforms in 90-degree heat.

Jaynie said she and the girls wanted to go to Sachs Covered Bridge, a few miles away. The captain and I wanted nothing more than to shed our uniforms and go to air-conditioned Eddie’s to re-hydrate ourselves.

Trying to change Jaynie’s mind is about like trying to convince an alligator it isn’t hungry for you. (The Famous Company of Myrtle Beach Golfers could tell you about this.)

So we went. What we saw there weren’t the ghosts of horses or soldiers, but a genuine Rolls-Royce limousine surrounded by people in fancy clothes.

The bride’s mother (who wasn’t the least bit hard to look at) said the bride (who was absolutely stunning) would love to have her picture taken standing between the two handsome soldiers.

The two handsome soldiers didn’t mind at all.

Hey ... how many of YOU are in the wedding albums of people you don’t even know?

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