Whew! We’re ready for our “50FEST.” We’ve spent the week getting ready for the festivities. As for me, I’m glad this event happens only once in a marriage. But, if you asked ol’ Nevah, she’d probably like to have one every five years — if for no other reason, it forces me to throw away some of the accumulation of worthless junk and clutter that seems to find permanency in our huge garage.
We’re eagerly anticipating the arrival our daughter, hubby and grandkids from Pigeon Forge, Tenn. It’s been months since we’ve seen them.
I heard a good story recently at our Old Boar’s Weekly Breakfast. My friend, C. Faren Wyde, sez when he wuz a teenager, his father and he drove into the next county to coyote hunt with one of his father’s friends.
They bounced all day through the rocky Flint Hills rangeland in his dad’s friend’s rattle-trap pickup seeking the furry critters. It wuz Faren’s lot to be seated in the middle of the front seat (pickups only had one seat in those long-gone days) and he recalls the old truck rattled so badly that he could scarcely hear the yelling conversation between the old friends.
Toward day’s end, they ended up on a gravel road full of chuck-holes and the pickup owner asked, “Do you hear that rattle in this pickup?”
To which Faren’s dad responded, “I don’t think your pickup’s got two pieces close enuf together for anything to rattle.”
Now that’s a good line.
I’ve got a friend, ol’ Buck Doff, who is a prominent horse breeder and horse judge who lives north of me on Highway 177 near Alta Vista, Kan.
I drive by his home every time I drive to Manhattan and every time I honk loudly as I drive by, even if I don’t see anyone around the house, barns or corrals.
Well, the last time I drove back from Manhattan, I spied ol’ Buck “hoofing it” across a hay field north of his home. And I mean that he wuz walking on his own two feet, not “hoofing it” on one of his Quarter Horses.
I laid on the car horn as I sped by and Buck waved back, although I doubt that he recognized who did the honking.
I chuckled about that all the way home becuz I never thought I’d see the day that Buck wuz afoot in the Flint Hills. It wuz quite an affront to a horseman.
The corn harvest has started in Chase County and from all accounts, the harvest will be average or above. What surprised me is that the moisture content of the corn wuz around 12.5-12.8 and could go right into the bin.
I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised because in the last two weeks the area has gone from nice green to fried. My ol’ dad, Czar E. Yield, used to say, “In eastern Kansas during the summer, you’re never more than two weeks away from a drought.” That’s a true statement.
I’m glad to get the harvest started becuz maybe it will start to attract hunt-able numbers of doves.
You’ll recall that last week I mentioned my “pet” spider, Ol’ Striker, who had set up web-keeping in a doorway of our garage, and that I had been feeding him/her all the grasshoppers and crickets it could eat.
Well, folks, I found out that there is a limit to a spider’s appetite. A few days ago, that spider wuz so fat from my largess that it refused to eat anymore and then it disappeared.
Guess that experience with Striker gives some evidence that anything will quit working if given enuf handouts.
Heard a good joke from my lay-minister friend, ol’ Saul M. Reeder. He said a
young minister moved into a community and, in an effort to create ecumenical unity, he and the ministers of all the denominations in the community started meeting once a week to “discuss things.”
Within a few weeks, the meetings were so successful that the young minister suggested that all the pastors bring the sermons they’d prepared for the next Sunday and a selected minister would blindly hand the sermons out for comparisons and critique.
That worked so well, that the meeting finally evolved into a challenge that the ministers would exchange sermons AND use that “guest” sermon as their own the next Sunday.
Well, the young minister gave his “guest” sermon and afterwards he explained the “sermon exchange.” A few minutes later in the receiving line near the exit, and elderly parishioner shook his hand and said, “I’m sorry about your bad luck.”
“Bad luck? What bad luck?” the young minister replied.
The parishioner replied, “That you were given the sorriest sermon of the bunch to use today.”
Well, next week I’ll probably have some stories from our “50FEST.” Comedian Bill Cosby has wise words about a long marriage. He said, “The heart of marriage is memories; and if the two of you happen to have the same ones and can savor your reruns, then you marriage is a gift from the Gods.” I think that’s true.