Echoes from the Loafers' Club Meeting
I went to a movie yesterday that made me cry.
A really sad film, eh?
No, really high-priced popcorn.
Driving by Bruce's drive
I have a wonderful neighbor, named Bruce. Whenever I pass his drive, thoughts occur to me, such as: I donned warm clothes and comfortable shoes, and I went walking on a nice day for winter. I returned to the house with thoughts of taking a shower before hitting the road. The shower held a new bar of soap with its brand name etched deep into its flesh. Fresh out of the wrapper and mighty nice.
A friend experienced being an owner of cows calving in January during a storm. It wasn't epic, but it was a storm nonetheless. He ventured out into the great outdoors to be of help where he could. There was a problem and he needed to carry a calf to the warmth and safety of a barn. The world holds countless people who have never had that experience. I'm not one of those. I recall similar happenings from my cattle-filled past with a smile and a shudder. I now limit my calving adventures to watching glaciers perform in Alaska.
My friend didn't need to summon a veterinarian, but told me a story about a guy we both used to know, named Irving. Irving had a sick cow. He called the veterinarian who came to the farm and treated the cow. The cow died. Not long after that, Irving received the vet's bill in the mail. Irving paid it, but sent a note along with his check reading, "If I call you again, don't come."
Tales from the road
I stopped at McDonald's to get an iced tea. I appreciated newspapers being available. I feel at home while reading a paper. Plus, at McDonald's, I get the added benefit of having ketchup stains on my newspaper. After nodding and then shaking my head through the news, my cellphone vibrated. A friend from Haines, Alaska, told me the most recent snowstorm had dumped 32 inches on them and they expected another 10 inches. I tried to cheer her by saying, "At least it wasn't 32 feet."
I'm not sure that was a helpful comment. After ending the call on my phone, I thought of the tin-can phone. A tin-can telephone was a speech-transmitting device made of tin cans attached to each end of a taut string. These lover's phones allowed sound to be conveyed by vibrations along the string. I remember being a junior Mr. Wizard and taking a couple of cans, open on one end, and hammering a nail hole in the center of the closed ends. I cut a length of string, maybe 12 feet long, poked it through the hole in each can, and tied a knot on the inside. It was a communication device that didn't allow texting, but with one tin can to my mouth and the other to my ear, I could talk to myself. Of course, I could have done that without string and cans too. I could talk to others. I could have talked to the fellow dining at the nearest table, who had just stuffed a hamburger in his pocket. Perhaps it was to eat later or to feed a dog waiting in the man's car. Or maybe the guy was testing out his new pants — the ones with rubber pockets so he could steal soup. I'll never know because I was lacking a tin-can phone.
Nature notes
I drove down the highway, looking at the road and glancing at raptors. Red-tailed hawks patrolled highway margins. When snow covers much raptor hunting grounds, highways provide prime places to pursue prey like voles. At the edge of town there was a highway turkey. A wild turkey standing nonchalantly in the middle of the road as cars went by on both sides of the big bird. It was obviously a turkey with street smarts.
This is a list of athletic teams nicknamed for plants or parts of plants, but is by no means complete. The one I'm most familiar with is the Blooming Prairie Awesome Blossoms. Others include: Ohio State Buckeyes, Toronto Maple Leafs, Moorhead Spuds, Indiana State Sycamores, The Roses (an English rugby team), Scottsdale Community College Fighting Artichokes, Delta State Fighting Okra, and the Cedar Rapids Kernels (minor league baseball team). Another minor league baseball squad was the Visalia Oaks, which changed their nickname to Rawhide.
Meeting adjourned
“People know what they do; frequently they know why they do what they do; but what they don't know is what what they do does.” — Michel Foucault. So please be kind.