I recently reconnected with one of my oldest friends in this life. I started writing about this lady introducing me to my first ever taco, but it turned into so much more. I had to do a rewrite.
The Bridgers lived across the street from my grandparents, and our two families have known each other for generations. The only child of Barney and Vivian was a girl named Yeakel, and that girl of theirs has put a mark on my life and the lives of so many others. Yeakel is about 10 years younger than my dad and not quite 15 years older than me.
As the story goes, she used to bug my dad in the way a little sister might. If you know Yeakel, that isn’t a tough scenario to imagine. I, as a little guy, had the biggest crush on Yeakel.
She always took time to talk to me, and she showed an interest in what I was up to. It was this kind of relationship that led to my first ever taco. I was probably 6 or 7 years old the day Yeakel saw me playing in the front yard and asked if I wanted to go have a taco.
I readily accepted the invitation, even though I had zero idea what a taco was. If Yeakel was asking, I was going. The first time a taco hit my taste buds was in a restaurant called “El Burrito” on Broad Street in downtown Gadsden, Alabama.
“A taco is like a Mexican hamburger,” Yeakel explained as we made our way into the open front of the first of many Mexican restaurants I would enter. Terracotta tiles adorned the floor, rising to a beautiful painting of a man in a sombrero leading a burro down a path to a pond. The place was festive, with colorful banners hanging from the windows, and music I’d never heard and couldn’t understand played in the background.
I knew two things after the first bite of my taco. First, this was the most delicious thing I had ever eaten. The second was, three of these things were not going to be enough.
I remembered my manners, and my home training worked to override the strong urge to ask for more tacos. A few years later, Yeakel met a man, Noble Yocum, and they married. My taco dates with my older woman crush were now over.
I had been replaced. The truth be told, I soon grew to care for Nobel as much as I did his lovely bride. If I had to lose her, Nobel was a man I could take losing her to.
Soccer was the next thing Yeakel would bring into my life. I had only heard things about soccer, but I knew nothing about it. I agreed to join the team and another blessing was bestowed upon me by this sweet woman.
Turns out, I had a knack for playing “The Beautiful Game.” I was a natural, and it didn’t hurt that no one else knew how to play. The big thing I didn’t realize was the people on that team would become lifelong friends, and they would turn into pretty dang good people.
I met Chris Arbery, the guy who would be my best friend through the remainder of my childhood. Gary Freeman, Richard Martin, Don Collins, Beth Freeman, Amy Isbell, Ricky Massey, Vassar Wallace, Reid Abel, Celeste Dawson, Beck Cross, Laura Freeman, Chip Frazier, Gina Atkins, Curtis Wright and more people I’m leaving out were my teammates, but better yet, friends I’ve loved for almost my entire life. When I texted Yeakel a couple of days ago, we hadn’t spoken probably since my grandfather’s funeral in 1994.
That’s 30 years of catching up, and it’s still going on. We’ve shared pictures of kids, grandkids, old soccer photos and a lot of memories. I’m grateful I got to tell Yeakel how grateful I am for her and the impact she had on my life and the many lives of all she touched.
Tacos, childhood friends and soccer are what come to mind when I think of this delightful woman who took a punk kid under her wing. Thanks for all you did for me, Y.Y.
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