“If we could do it all again, would we?”
Would you? I sure would. The sixties were the absolute best of times and the worst of times for me. Take me back, please. And a warm welcome once again to you all. I trust the intervening week has been kind to all of you.
Hi, Murphy, the Boston terrier here. I just wanted to bounce in here for a second. My male human has me all confused. I had been led to believe that the name they bestowed on me was “Murphy”. In the past weeks though it seems as though it has now become “Stopthat”. Okay, so after a while I stopped responding to Murphy and started coming to them when they called “Stopthat”. It seemed about every two minutes I was running to one or the other human. I mean it has really tired me out. The past couple of days the female human has started calling me “Getbackhere”. So I am now officially confused. Is it Murphy, Stopthat, or Getbackhere? Just let me know, please.
Happy 2 days after Father’s Day to all the dads out there. When I was in high school, I took my little brother to Des Moines where I purchased a puppy for my Dad’s birthday. Queenie, his previous dog had passed and I felt he needed a replacement. I may have been the only one to think that however. From the time I was born, we always had a dog on the farm. Our dogs were outside dogs. My mom would not allow one paw to cross the threshold inside. I will never forget that day. Baldy, my little brother, and I waltzed into the kitchen with this scared-to-death puppy. We put him down on the floor, he took 2 steps and proceeded to relieve himself. Mom was shocked for the lack of a better word. Somehow “Sparky” endeared himself to Mom and he became our first and only dog allowed in the house.
Sparky became my dad’s best friend. He went everywhere with my dad. He rode in the tractors and combine. He went to the field and stayed there all day, regardless of the temperature. Mom would bring lunch out to the field for my dad. She also packed a sandwich for Sparky. Sparky would take the sandwich, run off and bury it for a future time. Sparky planted thousands of sandwiches. Sparky was a protector of the family as well as one of the family. He was invited to sit at the kitchen table at meal time. He would sit on the chair, he would follow the conversation around the table. Mom would give him a plate with food on it and sit it in front of him but Sparky made no attempt to eat it at the table. When we were done with the meal, the plate would get set on the floor and only then would Sparky eat it. One of the fondest memories of the sixties on the farm.
Let me get to some neighborly news. Life on Hysteria Lane took a turn to excited this past week. Unbeknown to me but somewhat of “keeping up with the Jones” competition has sprung up. Over the years I have related some of my house maintenance activities and the troubles that ensue. Well, last year I took the plunge and had my asphalt driveway replaced with concrete. This did not occur normally, however. As the concrete guy put the finishing touches on the fresh cement, the wind picked up and leaves from my ash tree began falling in the concrete. He and my wife did the best they could but we have the only driveway on Hysteria Lane with a leaf pattern in their driveway.
I was unaware of any kind of rivalry until this week. Ms. E, one of the Hotties, who lives across the street from me, replaced her asphalt with concrete and used the very same concrete guy. She does NOT have a single leaf imprint on it. Makes me sick. Not to sit still for this one upmanship, daughter Debbie, the younger elder, decided we needed to rip decades old shrubs out from the front of the house and replace with neat stuff. Good I thought and we began on Saturday. Ms. E noticed this, of course, and made inquiry as to what we were doing. Having explained it, finding out about the rivalry thing, she proceeded to removed everything from her garage and clean it. Thus throwing the onus onto me to clean my garage. Oh, she is also going to update her shrubs. Not sure if this will ever end.
The billboard top 10 for this week in 1965 was: 1. I can’t help Myself, 2. Mr. Tambourine Man, 3. Wooly Bully, 4. Crying in the Chapel, 5. Back In My Arms Again, 6. Wonderful World, 7. Help Me Rhonda, 8.Engine Engine #9, 9. For Your Love, 10. Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte.
My current wife and I were sitting at the supper table last night. Hash browns, battered cod, and peas. That reminds me, why are we always stuck with “battered” fish. Can’t they harvest fish that have not be abused in any way? I had just eaten a forkful of peas (3 peas) when out popped “Whatever happened to our sexual relations?” I about choked when she replied, “I don’t know. I don’t even think we got a Christmas card from them this year.” There’s your sign.
I was in my front yard mowing the grass when a blonde neighbor came out of her house and went straight to the mailbox. She opened it then slammed it shut stormed back in the house. A little later she came out of her house again went to the mail box and again opened it, slammed it shut again. Angrily, back into the house she went. Just as I was getting ready to edge the lawn by the sidewalk, she came out again, marched to the mailbox, opened it and then slammed it closed harder than ever. Completely puzzled by her actions I went over and asked her, “Is something wrong?” To which she replied, “There certainly is!” My stupid new computer keeps saying, “You’ve Got Mail.”
The only cow in a small Iowa town stopped giving milk. The people did some research and found that they could buy a cow just across the state line in Wisconsin for $200. They bought the cow from Wisconsin and the cow was wonderful. It produced lots of milk all of the time, and the people were pleased and very happy. They decided to acquire a bull to mate with the cow to produce more cows like it. They would never have to worry about their milk supply again. They bought the bull and put it in the pasture with their beloved cow. However, whenever the bull came close to the cow, the cow would move away. No matter what approach the bull tried, the cow would move away from the bull and he could not succeed in his quest. The people were very upset and decided to ask the Vet, who was very wise, what to do. They told the Vet what was happening. “Whenever the bull approaches our cow, she moves away. If he approaches from the back, she moves forward. When he approaches her from the front, she backs off. An approach from the side, she walks away to the other side.” The Vet thought about this for a minute and asked, “Did you by chance, buy this cow in Wisconsin?” The people were dumbfounded, since no one had ever mentioned where they bought the cow. “You are truly a wise Vet,” they said. “How did you know we got the cow in Wisconsin?” The Vet replied with a distant look in his eye, “My wife is from Wisconsin.”
If I can make at least one person smile, or laugh till they leak, then my day was not wasted. Now, until we meet again. –TA!