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turned out. All the principals are gone now, and there is no one to ask. But still the stone stands, a riddle. So, as a Fairbanker now myself, I prefer to believe that it may have played out like this. When they discovered there was a problem with Mr. Wade’s headstone, Dawson had it brought down to the island for Miss Lola to see. She took one look at it and burst out laughing. “My L or d , hone y, you r e a l ly messed that one up, didn’t you?” Mr. Dawson agreed, shuffling his feet nervously. “Yes, ma’am, we’re real sorr y. I reckon,” he added, twisting his cap, “that you’ll want it put right?” “But how?” she exclaimed. “You can’t erase it, can you?”

“No, ma’am. If we tried to cement some stone dust into the “l” and the “u,” and then re-cut them in the right order, it wouldn’t look right.” “I sure do wish Wade was here to see this,” said Miss Lola, with another giggle. “He would laugh out loud and probably say something like, ‘I always knew I couldn’t get out of this world without messing up one last time.’” Dawson smiled, uneasily, waiting. Finally, he asked, “Shall we make a new one then, Miss Lola? I can have it for you in about a week.” She hesitated, then said, “Well, now, Mr. Dawson, that would set you back a not her whole stone, wouldn’t it?” “Yes, ma’am,” answered Dawson,


March 2017 ttimes web magazine  
March 2017 ttimes web magazine  

Tidewater Times March 2017