A political sign roof, anyone?

Published 10:53 am Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Echoes from the Loafers Club

“I’m so tired I have trouble staying awake.”

“You need to catch up on your sleep.”

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“There’s no way I could catch up. It took me 58 years to get this tired.”

Driving by the Bruces

I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: Plastic political yard signs make excellent shingles. They are easy to handle, flexible and much more durable than political promises.

My heroes have always been cowboys

Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers and Gene Autry were my role models. They never started a fight, never needed a shave, never talked loudly on cell phones at inappropriate times and were optimistic.

These were good guys. You could tell because they had six-shooters that held more than 1,000 cartridges each.

It bothered me a little when Roy or Gene would burst into song for no apparent reason, and that Hoppy didn’t wear a white hat, but they were heroes. If you waved at them, they waved back.

The doily rule

When my ancestors came to this country, they built a barn so they would have work. Then they built a house so they would have shade. They marked their territory by planting lilacs around the yard.

My mother marked her territory inside the house with doilies. A doily is a small ornamental mat, usually made of lace or linen.

If an object had a doily on or below it, it was not to be moved.

It was the Doily Rule.

I’ve learned

My ears are not made for those earbuds that come with iPods, laptop computers and small radios. The earbuds either refuse to stay in or I have to jam them in with such force that I need a surgical procedure involving a jackhammer done to extract them.

Wealthy

There is a variety of apple called a Wealthy. We had several of these apple trees on our farm. This apple is still grown but has lost favor to apples with better flavor and other desired characteristics.

The apple was named after the forename of the wife of the horticulturist who originated the apple.

As a boy, I thought the name Wealthy came from that feeling I got when the trees were heavy with apples.

I could take a bite out of one and then toss it at a broken tractor. I could do that without the guilt I typically felt whenever I wasted food because there were so many of the apples.

We were far from rich financially, but the Wealthy apples made me feel wealthy.

The pelican breeze

I was speaking on the Pelican Breeze, a tour boat that cruises Albert Lea Lake. It was a cold, rainy day. We were about ready to leave the dock when a man got off the boat.

I asked the man where he was going.

“I’m going home to get my jacket,” he said.

“Where’s home?” I asked, concerned that he might delay our departure.

“Phoenix,” he replied.

An alarming morning

The clock radio went off at 4:30 a.m. Music was my instrument of awakening. This can be a dangerous thing. A song that awakens a man can remain in his mind all day.

I could have hit the snooze button. I set the alarm a little earlier than necessary. I always do that. I didn’t hit the snooze button — I never do. I knew that I could have and been rewarded with nine more minutes of dreams.

I didn’t employ the snooze button because I fear that a life lived in nine minute increments leads to a short attention span.

The answer man

As a boy, I thought my father was the world’s smartest man. That was because he had all the answers.

They all were, “Go ask your mother.”

Nature’s World

Most crows do not live a year. Many crow eggs do not hatch and a great number of nestlings perish. The average breeding age of a crow is three to four years.

A lucky and wary crow could live to be 15 years old. The oldest wild American crow recorded was 29 years old.

Early American colonists had never seen cicadas.

They were familiar with the Biblical story of locust plagues, but were not sure what kind of insect was being described. When the cicadas appeared in large numbers, some colonists thought it was a “locust plague.”

Talking to the Holstein

I was talking to the Holstein the other day.

The Holstein is a retired milk cow, so she has time to talk. I asked her what she would do if she could do one thing to make the world a better place.

The Holstein chewed her cud thoughtfully and said, “I’d make all electrical cords a foot longer.”

Meeting adjourned

It’s none of your business what anyone thinks of you. Be kind.