Some of the facts may be a little mixed up, but the story goes something like this .

Thursday, June 08, 2000

Some of the facts may be a little mixed up, but the story goes something like this …

I remember the day I missed the curve where Mower County No. 4 meets County No. 7, when I thought I saw Byron Huseby lying in the middle of the road.

My car went into the ditch and about 10 rows deep in the cornfield. When I came to, I crawled out of the car and walked through the rows of corn.

When I walked out of the cornfield, I went to the first house along the road, but there was nobody home, so I kept on walking until I came to a town.

It was a beautiful sight. All the laws were mowed, the houses freshly painted and children playing happily in their front yards.

I asked the first person I saw, "Is this heaven?" A man dressed all in black looked me in the eye and said, "Hell, no. It’s Adams, and you’re under arrest."

It was Police Chief Gordie Briggs and that was my introduction to the community.

Briggs moonlights as a karoke singer at the local American Legion Club. His version of Elvis Presley’s "In the Ghetto" is said to be a classic.

It’s true, the Adams police chief and I have a running feud. After he arrested me, so afraid was I to enter the town, that I would park my car at Gary and Jane Thome’s place north of town and walk into the community.

In fact, I visited Renee’s cafe for the first time this week after avoiding it for fear the police chief would be there.

In just 10 minutes, or the time it took to drink a cup of coffee, I got the low-down on everybody and everything in Adams from two pretty young waitresses and the cook.

Someday, I have to visit Renee’s in the morning, when the coffee regulars show up and people like Alan Gunderson, Jim Thalberg and the rest solve the world’s problems.

I missed Bubbles, the effervescent waitress who is the Holstein Lady and waits on tables at the popular cafe, and I missed the boss herself, Mrs. Schmitz, but there will be another time.

For a long time, whenever I thought of Adams, the name Tom Mullenbach came to mind.

That was because Denise Hompe, a former teacher of Tom’s was so impressed with him when he was a youngster in school, that she dubbed him "Saint Thomas."

When I mentioned that in one of these columns, the poor fellow was teased relentlessly.

Of course, it’s easy to poke fun at people in a newspaper column, but sooner or later reporters wind up meeting the people they write about.

That happened to me and Mr. Mullenbach one day after I called him "Saint Thomas" in the newspaper. Ever since Tom and I met and got acquainted, we’re on a first-name basis. I call him "Sir" and he calls me "Stupid."

Naturally, he’s earned my respect, and I will never ever insult him again in print.

Well, maybe.

The thing is I just don’t get that Millennium Prom business they had at Sacred Heart Catholic Church last New Year’s Eve, when Larry Tompkins took Tom to the dance.

Who was whose date and does Larry look better in high heels than Tom?

Fortunately, I know there is at least one couple I can trust to support me when I get into hot water writing about Adams.

That would be Gerald and Margie Meier, who have proven themselves time and again to be willing to go out on a limb and defend me when the Adams folk think I’m poking fun at them.

Just the other day at Corky’s Corner, I innocently asked someone, "Does it take more Mullenbachs or Kiefers to screw in a light bulb?"

It was just my luck that there was a group of tough looking dairy farmers in the convenience store at the time, who were related to both Mullenbachs and Kiefers, and they didn’t like my attempt at humor.

Fortunately, Gerald Meier walked in just at that moment and stepped between us. "Tell them, Gerald," I said. "Tell them I’m Lee Bonorden, the world famous reporter."

True to form, Gerald looked me in the eye and said, "Lee who?"

Now, I always carry my sling when I visit Adams.

See ya’ at Dairy Days this weekend!