Billy Coffey
Billy Coffey

The best fit

July 15, 2009  

“Excuse me,” said a voice from behind.

I closed the magazine that had been keeping me company in the checkout line. Gossip magazines, I thought, were printed exclusively for such occasions. What better way to wait on Judy the cashier to work her way to you than gawk at the trials and tribulations of the better off? It makes you happy to be poor and unknown.

I turned to face an elderly woman and her two grandchildren, all of whom were smiling. At me.

“How are ya’ll today?” I asked.

“Oh,” she said, “we’re just fine.” Then, “I just noticed your shirt. What year are you?”

Year?

I looked down at my T shirt. White and frayed, with a white V outlined in orange above two crossed sabers. The logo of the University of Virginia. Where, I assumed, this nice lady thought I was getting some higher education.

I had to smile at that. Me? The University of Virginia? No. UVA rests in the middle of Charlottesville, Virginia, home of the Beautiful People. People who drive Ferraris and live in houses bigger than my church.

I, on the other hand, rest in the middle of the Shenandoah Valley, home of the regular people. People who drive Chevy trucks and live in homes rather than houses.

I have been called regular often. Beautiful never.

And I suppose that bothered me on some level. That deep down I was tired of being Levi Strauss regular and wanted to be Ralph Lauren beautiful. Just once, just for a moment. Because before I knew what I was doing I said, “I’m a senior.”

“Really?” she beamed. “My grandson is a senior! You may know him—”

“—No,” I interrupted, suddenly uncomfortable, “probably not. Big campus and all.”

She nodded. “What do you study?”

“Architecture,” I answered, figuring that if I was going to lie, I might as well lie like George Costanza.

I wasn’t sure if UVA actually had an architecture program, but it seemed pretty Ralph Lauren. And I wasn’t sure if she knew either, but she said, “Wonderful! Do you have any job prospects.”

“Oh, sure,” I said. “You know, New York, Miami, Chicago…” I ran out of cities and finished with, “Just trying to figure out which is the best fit.”

“Well,” she said, “I’m sure you’ll decide. The best fit is always the best choice.”

The line cleared in front of me and we offered our goodbyes. She wished me luck and gave me a knowing wink. One that said I didn’t really need any luck. I was a Beautiful Person. I was already lucky.

We met again on our way out of the store. I watched as she gathered her two Baby Gap grandchildren into her spiffy new Mercedes and drove away. Into the sunset, appropriately.

And me, I trudged to my truck and drove in the opposite direction, back to the dirt roads and regular folks. The ones who lived not by hedge funds and fancy cars, but with one hand to the plow and the other raised to God.

I drove and thought about what I had just done. I lied to an old lady. That’s pretty bad. But I had lied about myself, and that was worse. Still, pretending to have a life of filet mignon and Cristal was a nice switch from the reality of cheeseburgers and Coke.

But as I drove from the city to my small town, I thought maybe not. There, nestled in the shadow of the Blue Ridge, were people much like me. Hardworking, kind, and simple. Displaying a quiet strength that was both easily overlooked and a force to be reckoned with. We cared for our own, flew our flags, and minded our manners. And we might not have had much in the way of worldly goods, but we had plenty in the things that mattered.

Charlottesville may have been the home of the Beautiful People, but we had our share, too.

What was it the grandma in the checkout line had said?

“The best fit is always the best choice.”

Yes.

And I knew that I had made the best choice. Because I would always fit in with those who had one hand to the plow and the other raised to God.

And I would rather be blessed than lucky.

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Comments

  • Peter P

    Awesome, Billy.

  • katdish

    “I’m a senior.” – SNORT! Classic.

    You're really getting better at titles…

  • Anne L.B.

    … and live in homes rather than houses …

    Which is, after all, what makes any place the best fit—even when it's not Shenandoah Valley, even when it's not Colorado.

  • jasonS

    Lying to old ladies? Well, I never… yeah, I probably…

    I don't mind going out to a fancy dinner now and again, but I know where I fit and it is beautiful.

  • Bridget

    So you are a word architect…that works! Nice post :)

  • Shark Bait

    So who did you steal the shirt from then?

  • Denise

    Amen, well said my friend.

  • Chris Godfredsen

    I was waiting for her to ask your name – and to have you tell her you were Art Van De Lay – and that your back up plan was importing/exporting. OK, too much Seinfeld.

    Love the post – love the notion. While I have all of these thoughts running through my head each day, you helped me realize this morning that the hear and now, where I am is the best fit for me.

    Grace and Peace!

  • Candace Jean July 16

    "a force to be reckoned with…"

    That, you are. This had a little giggle factor going on, particularly when you wanted to be Ralph rather than Levi. Levi sounds so much cooler.

  • April

    You and I are definitely on the same page! FANTASTIC story!

  • Jo@Mylestones

    Great post. Love how you channeled George Constanza!

  • Beth in NC

    You are so talented. Can you pour some of that this way please?

  • Pam at beyondjustmom

    Often when I go back to my college town, filled with beautiful people, I feel like an imposter. I'm so grateful for the regular place I live now. Thanks for the refreshing reminder.

    And also–it's nice to know you're just a regular guy who lies to old ladies once in awhile. Not a famous writer or something.

  • Lanette

    Been reading your posts and really enjoying them. And hey in the picture at the top of the blog, you kind of look Kenny Chesneyish…so see there's a pretty people name for you!

  • Holly Brennan

    Yeah….this resonates with me. I've made the choice to be in Southern Maryland, where the eternal cry of the young folk is, "I gotta get out of here!!!"

    But each and every day I'm finding out that I don't have to have the fancy-schmancy job, title, car, etc. I have truly come to love this place where I am. I agree with JasonS's comment: I know where I fit and it is beautiful. Exactly.

    The best fit just doesn't make sense to everyone, does it?

  • Annie K

    I know what you mean Billy. My little home town was once full of regular people: where everyone knew everyone, got a haricut, shot of whiskey and breakfast at the D&D all before 8am, drove their cars through the middle of downtown with their dogs running behind (for exercise), made a big fuss when the first McDonalds showed up…and they just wanted a place to enjoy the great outdoors without a lot of people.

    Then the rich discovered Bend… and it's now referred to as the 'Aspen of Oregon'. (sigh…). Maybe when the kids leave the nest we'll go in search of that small town to plant ourselves for good… (Obviously I have issues and miss my small town.)

    PS – Don't like me any less just because I have some Gap and Ralph in my closet. It was a moment of weakness. Honest.

  • Billy Coffey

    Annie – Honestly? Right now I'm wearing a pair of Gap shorts and an Ambercrombie T shirt. I won't judge you if you won't judge me.

  • katdish

    Billy,

    It's a good thing you replied to Annie. I was about to call you out for being a Abercrombie ho.

  • Billy Coffey

    katdish – the best defense is a good offense.

  • sherri

    You had me at George Castanza!

  • Jennifer

    Ooo, Godfredsen took my Art Vandelay line. ;-)

    Glad you found the best fit Billy. … This week, we're staying in a mansion, among the Beautiful People of Breckenridge, and Lydia asked me whether I'd rather live here or back home.

    No hesitation: HOME.

    This is a mighty-fine place, but home to me is in Iowa. It's a place that some describe as being "in the middle of nowhere," but it's home to me.

  • lynnrush

    Bridget, I love this "…word architect" spot on!!

    Great post, Billy.

    :-)

  • Joanne Sher

    Profound. I grew up among the "beautiful people," and now live with "regular (though that is a relative phrase, isn't it?) people." And I wouldn't go back.

    Excellent stuff.

  • Shanda

    Liar Liar pants on fire! :) (Can you tell I've been around my kids a little too much lately?!?)

    There is something to be said for roots. For those who have, "one hand to the plow and the other raised to God."

    I must defend a few of the "beautiful people" though…God calls and gifts some to live among them… You will notice us by the frayed white t-shirts we wear when we are out weeding our own gardens and we're also the ones out working on our vehicles that we plan to drive until they die. (Much to the dismay of the local Home Owners Association.)

    I'd like to believe that we add a little balance to the "beauty." And possibly a fresh breeze of humility and God's grace while we work on the computer with one hand and raise the other up to our faithful Father…

  • Luke

    The opening reminded me of the Good Charlotte song…

    And, a few weeks ago I was driving home, minding my own business, when a cute girl pulled up next to me at a light. She signaled me to roll down my window with a huge smile on her face.

    Cute girls don't do that to me. So I was totally taken off guard.

    "I went to Biola too," she said… obviously having read my license plat holder thingy. "What year did you graduate?"

    Now, believe me: I don't get tongue-tied by pretty girls. But all of these elements (surprise, new situation, the time constraint of a light about to change…) threw me.

    "2001," I said.

    "Awesome. I graduated in 2008," and with that the light turned green and she was gone.

    I kicked myself. I didn't lie, but I had given her the year I graduated from high school, not college. I drove home and complained to my wife that some cute girl now thinks I'm 30 when I'm not.

    My wife wasn't too sympathetic. [smile]

    ~Luke

  • Terri Tiffany

    Awesome story–I love how you write a story with a great ending! I hope your book gets published soon cause I know it will do well:)

  • Susie

    An architect you may very well be – a designer and builder of/with words.

  • Frisbies Forever

    Me too!

  • christy rose

    (((smiles))))

    I love your honesty!

  • Gotta Have Faith

    What is that other saying? You can't judge a book by it's cover. Well even if you don't see yourself as beautiful Billy, I know that many of us read your posts everyday and know just how beatuiful your words can be.

    So there is beauty in you, just not where you think.

    Take Care and hope your book is coming along!

    Keep the Faith Brother!

  • RickNiekLikeBikes

    Just look at your children and then decide who the beautiful people are. Either way, all of God's can have one hand on the plow or one hand on the building proposal and by both praise the God who provided the their tools. Neither Chevy's or Mercedes precludes a life of discontent. I kind of like my Old Jalopy though.

  • The Homefront

    Oh, I've had those moments, too. I've discovered through bad experiences that when I feel any twinge about my roots, I haven't found the "best fit." ;) Doesn't stop me from trying, but it might be why I'd rather stay here than anywhere else.

    Love Bridget's "Word architect." How perfect!

  • Caroline

    How blatently honest you are about lying! Quite refreshing.

  • gzusfreek

    Loove it :) You rock, Billy!

  • Heart2Heart

    Billy,

    Some how I actually believe you are the beautiful people and they, the ones with the luxuries of life, are the ordinary ones. They may have the money to try and buy happiness but for you, you already are rich beyond measure.

    Why you even have a mansion waiting for you in a whole new world.

    Love and Hugs ~ Kat

  • twofinches

    Billy

    I kept waiting for you to get caught out in your lie but you didn't …my mothers words tend to haunt me on such occasions and scare the idea right out of me… "Be sure your lie will find you out!"

    Once , a week after I gave birth to my twins, a woman in a store asked me when I was due! My mid section was still swollen enough to warrant the comment. I was so mortified that I made up a date on the spot. From that day on I kept hoping she wouldn't catch me strolling my two girls around town!

  • got2havefaith

    Cheeseburger and a Coke…where I came from it's the generic variety and fried bologna sandwich. Great post as always.

  • Laura

    Are you really a compulsive liar?

    I love your spirit, Billy! You simply delight! As a mother of two boys I see their mischievous ways in this tale.

    More than the bestest fit.

  • Billy Coffey

    Laura – Actually, no. But I guess the question is if you can beleive that…

  • Tina Dee Books

    Good reading for capping my day off. Thank you, sir!

    I think you headed in the direction of beautiful people–most of us prefer a front porch with a swing or an old rocker than a big house lined with palm trees along a long curving driveway.

    I do. I like down-home and cozy.

    Hey, that's why I hang out here– where the beautiful people are–in their Levi's sipping tea.

    ;)