Back in the mid to late 1900s rural salesmen were as common as fleas on a dog. They traveled the dusty or muddy rural backroads every day, stopping at farm houses along the way, peddling seed, feed, minerals, tools, lubricants and full array of rural needs. They even targeted the farm housewife with brushes, brooms, vacuums, cleaners, soap, beauty products, and a host of other household needs.
Sometimes — if their product line wuz needed by the farmer, rancher, or housewife — these salesmen were welcomed with open arms. Other times — or, more often than not — they were seen as uninvited, persistent, persuasive, or pushy pests who imposed on productive daylight time.
Those were also the bye-gone days when about every farmstead had a nondescript cur dog serving as the enthusiastic guard dog of all the premises and property belonging to its master.
These guard dogs were the bane of rural salesmen because all of them had plenty of bark as warning, but some of them also included bite in their protection arsenal. Arriving at a farm home was akin to sales Russian roulette. The salesman just never knew what to expect.
All the above is precursor to this story about the experience of one rural salesman, ol’ Huck Stirr. He’d been in the rural sales game for many years, switching from product to product every few years. At the time of this story, he wuz peddling a well-known brand of garden seeds and products.
It wuz in the spring, just before garden planting time. Huck wuz working a new unfamiliar territory. It had been a pretty unproductive sales day when he arrived at a home he’d never visited before. From the road, it looked promising. The house wuz freshly painted and neatly landscaped. The front yard sported a white picket fence with a gate and sidewalk to the wooden front porch. He could also see a freshly-tilled garden spot in the backyard.
Inwardly, he hoped the husband wasn’t home and that he could make his sales pitch to the housewife, who he figgered wuz Chief Gardener.
So, Huck gathered up his sales kit, took a deep breath, mustered up a smile and headed to the house. He opened the gate and headed up the sidewalk. He wuz about half-way to the porch when out from under the porch charged a huge cur dog. It wuz all teeth — snarling loudly and going full-bore when it launched itself towards Huck’s throat.
But then, just as Huck braced himself for the impact and mentally prepared himself for the worst possible outcome, the beast did a complete backflip and meekly scrambled back under the porch.
As Huck shakily arose off the sidewalk, the man of the house ambled out the front screen door and stood there with his hands of his hips.
Before he could say a word, Huck yelled, “Sir, what’s the story on that massive guard dog? I thought I wuz a goner.”
The farmer drawled, “Well, Mister. I’ve had him tied up for years and I just unsnapped his chain this morning and he ain’t figgered it out yet!”
***
Ol’ Huck’s story has an important moral to it if you stop to think about what happened.
How many of us are like that guard dog — held back by unseen restraints from doing what are capable of doing? It’s easier to not go beyond familiar custom and routine, so we never know the full extent of our capabilities.
***
I heard about a young farmer whose marriage went into the dumpster when his wife asked if she could have a little peace and quite while she cooked the evening meal.
Her hubby obliged her by taking the battery out of the smoke alarm.
***
We still need runoff in this area badly, but we still welcomed two nice showers this week — one with a quarter-inch of rainfall and the other about one-half inch. The showers were good for my garden and my reseeded portion of our lawn.
***
I read this week that scientists are making progress toward using genetic manipulations to re-create animals that have been extinct for tens of thousands of years. That’s interesting science, but I have a better idea for spending those research dollars.
I suggest that geneticists redirect their efforts toward re-creating humans who have lost their common sense. There is increasing evidence that more and more humans no longer have common sense.
For instance — the folks who protested their cause by blocking the Golden Gate bridge is San Francisco have clearly lost their common sense. Same with those blocking streets in New York City. So have those wayward folks who were caught chanting “Death to America.”
If those folks had a lick of common sense, they’d realize that America is one of the few nations on this spinning globe in which they could hold such protests.
Personally, I’m proud that rural folks have steadfastly maintained their common sense — and use it daily.
***
Words of wisdom for the day: “Remember, just because you went to college doesn’t make you smarter than anyone else. Common sense doesn’t come with a degree.”
Have a good ‘un.
