“It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood” but there is always something beautiful in each day given us whether it be sunshine or rain. The glory of each morning is that it gives us the chance to begin again.
Yesteday we celebrated the promises God gave us when His Son shed his blood for our sins and rose again. I enjoyed church services and dinner with my church family. Some of us stayed at church all afternoon and sang. Burr, Ruth, Jamie, Joseph, Benji and Jean sang and played for the enjoyment of the rest who stayed to listen.
After I came home Kasey came by bringing me watercress and Greg and Karen came bringing plants for my garden, then Burr and Ruth came after church services Sunday night. It was a good day!
Greg and Karen had dinner with Greg’s mom, Norma Evans, and with the other of his family. Greg cooked the hamburgers and everyone brought the rest of a very good Sunday dinner, so I hear.
Kasey Taber visited Leon Lakey Sunday morning. He told me he sure did like “that old man.” I can’t think of myself as old. My body is determined that I am convinced however. I shall not write what Leon called Kasey when I talked to Leon earlier.
Greg and Karen enjoyed a cookout with Kasey and Terry and family one evening last week in celebration of Monica’s birthday.
Matt and Natasha had supper with her Mom, Terry and Kasey Sunday evening.
Those visiting Jim and Jean Frye Sunday evening were Danny and Jamie Dry, Benji, Dana and Cori Dry and Rusty Frye. Tony Ingerson had spent a day with them during the week.
Ruth Taber’s daughter, Amber and Matt, and Paulie came to church service Sunday. Paulie is talking plainly for a two year-old. They grow up too fast.
Joseph brought me a dozen fresh big brown eggs Sunday sent by his sister, Jessica. They are my grandchildren. I appreciate it very much, Jessi.
Burr and I had a day together Wednesday. We went by town and then a drive out 76 Highway and back in time for dinner at the quilting club for a delicious meal. Nothing like pot luck dinner hosted by experienced cooks.
I am concerned for my friend, Lorene Maloney. I heard she is in the hospital. Our prayers are for her. Lorene is my age and a schoolmate from Clark where we spent eight years together learning Reading, Writing and Arithmatic. We never left the Ozarks and have kept in touch. I love you, Lorene.
Campaigning is in full force and with much time still to hear more. I’m endorsing only one candidate for sheriff.
While thinking of campaigns and touching on the subject of old folks, had an idea, in fact a great idea.
I think Congress and the government would benefit greatly and possibly cut down on expensive and idoiotic ideas if they had an advisory council of old folks to warn them when they were about to do something really stupid.
First of all consider that advisory councils would be cheaper than consultants and would use smaller and to the point words than economists. A lot of wisdom is just going to waste in this country and advice from people who have seen and done everything could benefit our politicians. For example before going to war advice from someone who has actually been in one before. With those kinds of people on the job, our government might not keep repeating the same old mistakes.
Now, therefore this council should be composed of a farmer, a veteran from the military, a school teacher, and a wife who has raised four or five kids.
One example of the type I’d want on this old folks council is patterned after the wise and experienced farmer I heard about and which you have also I’m sure. But in case you haven’t and which is so good it bears repeating is the story of this farmer who had a visitor from the USDA who wanted to count his cows. This was during the depression and they were paying farmers about 35 cents for every cow they killed like the dairy buyout only with bullets. This official handed the old farmer his business card with addresses and big word embossed and which cost the government a lot of money wasted, because I’m sure you could tell that he was a real expert just by looking without the card. I can imagine him being the kind who could look at a cow and tell instantly if it was male or female and he would be right about half the time.
The story goes that he informed the owner that he was going into the pasture and count his cows. He was paid to make sure there’d be no cheating the government out of 35 cents. After tiptoeing off through the cow pies he re-emerged shortly running about at 40 miles per hours with the Jersey bull breathing right down his trailer hitch. I think we appreciate the picture.
As he passed the old farmer he was begging for help or advice. Because both were rapidly getting out of hearing range the farmer yelled at the top of his voice, “Show him your card. Show him your card.”
For sure that’s the kind of person I’d put on the old folks advisory council. What do you think?