12-8-o9 A date I shan’t forget (daren’t)

Talking yesterday about us somehow the conversation got around to my parents, my proclaiming, talking to my Bride, “I wish you could have seen my parents interactions. They were a hoot all the time.” What I didn’t say as I had said it so many times before, “They was the best show in our home. Absolutely, radio couldn’t hold a candle to them, nor TV when it came into vogue.” Poor Lucy nor Ralph Cramden nor Archy Bunker hit upon some of their excitement. On the other hand shows like: Leave it to Beaver, Father knows Best, and the Nelson Family were total dead bodied lifeless drags.
Then I got into telling Frieda about the same Michigan story they had both individually related to me of their courting days. It seemed that during a time when a certain girl was living with her grandparents, just west outside Bangor’s village limits, her best friend had introduced that certain girl to her boy friend. That boy friend taking an immediate shine to this certain girl dropped the old one. That certain girl’s grandfather taking a shine to the certain granddaughter’s new acquaintance gave him a part time job. Now I don’t know how the new boy friend got from South Haven to Bangor in those days; but upon arrival date nights young man harnessed grandpa’s horse to grandpa’s buggy or cutter as the weather conditions had permitted. Now there was as it seems a dance hall within walking distance the grandpa’s farm just own the road. So, why walk that difference Dobbin’s transportation was handy. Well it seems the young gentleman got lost every time he escorted that certain pretty girl to the dance and invariably turned that horse the wrong way every time he had tried to take the certain young lady home. It was always the same when they had gotten to the southeast side of Bangor, when and where the young man had always seemed to find himself totally lost and confused he just plainly gave up and giving the horse its lead the horse found his own way home, which that old plug horse miraculously managed to find time after time.
Those young people eventually just happened to turn out to be my parents. And it seemed every time I asked what they were doing when the only one with smarts was drawing them all home. All I ever got was a far away look with a silly smile on my Mom’s face. Asking Dad I got a slow wink of an eye and a whole body swelled chest imaged with some inspiring tunes hummed from his diaphragm. It was about then our conversation just sort of drifted away. Never ever did I ever learn from either one of them what happened during that long way around ride home. I guess I’d have had to live them to appreciate some of the simpler thinks in the horse and buggy days. };^))
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One of the toughest things I’ve ever had to do for my bride is maintain my youthful, handsome, healthy good looks for her eyes alone. It certainly hasn’t been easy. It’s totally uncanny how Frieda keeps finding her eye glasses.
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I just really like starting the day out broke. My only solution was to see Aunty M for a financial transfusion. This before I could afford to put a feed bag on the old gray mare.
TI had offered to take Frieda out for a nice quiet romantic breakfast. While she was dressed first and supposedly ready to go I started to stack some firewood on the deck. Then when she finally comes out she looks at me and says, “I thought you were taking me out for breakfast?” About then I had already stacked what fuel we’d needed for a couple day’s burn. “I was doing this just waiting for you, Dear!” otherwise keeping my trap shut.
I can call it the romantic morning hour for when I take her just late enough in the morning hour we miss all the working stiffs busy breakfast hour. Figure it, walking in before late mid-morning we’ve got the choice of any table or corner in the joint. Now, being a special holiday, so to speak, we may eat anything we durn well pleased for we’d diet tomorrow.
Leaving the resturante I took Frieda to one of the most expensive places at the crossroads, the filling station. All the pumps nearing busy just because I was approaching all the islands I wound up beat out of the one/two favorite fueling landings my being pressed to park use a pump upon the fringe. Then it were self watching trap I didn’t say it or the wrong thing wrong. Normally a pay before gassing the women working this place all know me. Only near parked beyond the suburbs I had the national urge to push the help button and ask one of them lovely ladies, “Can you turn me on?” But I thought better for that for my safety’s sake’s reasons and just waited to be recognized, which had come shortly forthwith.
Having said nothing what could have been misconstrued I was home free for the day. Whew,
And, that’s the way it was this December 8th day up to this point for the year 2009.
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Getting back at farm needs I emptied some Ugly’s cargo box, and utilized the opened space to haul more salvage metals away from the shop’s apron out to the bone yard. I had uncovered, gathered, and packaged non metallic waste materials for trash pickup. Which reminds me I can also haul away the old planks out of stock trailer’s floor to handy’s handicrafts work area and some warped corn crib planks I thought I would have cut up use for. They can go down in the barn. Sheesh, all this picking up has sure created another massive packaged trash for Thursday’s shop trash day. Worked some on the Tall Ollie. I tried to move even a little bit one front axel again to no avail. Now for one more project, if I could just get a hold of one 5” wheeled caster for a steel construction site gang box sitting in the way. I could securely lock up some my tools down in my barn. It’d also make a good rodent proof supplement cabinet. But has to be fixed first before it before it may be used to good use.
Getting in again right at dark supper an hour later was some more our celebration’s honey cured ham. Hmmm MMM…, The ham’s sure been good for another day. BGKC.
Fernan