Echoes From the Loafers’ Club Meeting

It looks as if you’re wearing a toupee.

It is a toupee.

Well, you could never tell.

Driving by Bruce’s drive

I have a wonderful neighbor named Bruce. Whenever I pass his drive, thoughts occur to me, such as: Large, round bales of hay, golden on the sunny side; farmyards hemmed in by trees; and the sound of a paved road greeted me as I turned off the gravel. I drove between Moulton, Iowa and Coatsville, Missouri. Most of the drivers I met waved at me. That was cool as I was traveling on a hard surface road. In Minnesota, it’s state law that you have to wave at everyone you meet on a gravel road.

The cafe chronicles

“I have some bad news and some good news. Which do you want to hear first?” asked the server.

“Give me the bad news,” I replied, preferring happy endings.

You ordered the beef commercial. The beef commercials here are terrible.”

“What’s the good news,” I asked.

“We’re all out of beef commercials.”

Don’t forget to vote and cancel your spouse’s vote

The alarm went off in the hotel room. It sounded like a cross between a chainsaw and a platoon of light sabers. I didn’t remember setting it. It was earlier than it had ever been.

I’d stayed in a snazzy hotel, one of those in which a fellow could go broke just by sleeping. I drove past a McWendyBellHardee- ChickKingSubQueen-StarArby’s to get to a big mall where I could walk for exercise on a cold, rainy day. I put one foot in front of another while avoiding eye contact with people selling things from kiosks. The mall was so large I could discern the curvature of the earth from inside it.

A woman handed me a flier advocating the political candidacy of a local. I told her that I was from a distant land and not eligible to vote for her candidate. She reminded me to vote somewhere. I wanted to tell her about a guy I’d talked to the day before who told me, “I’m so angry, I could vote.” But she didn’t seem mirthful. Not likely the kind who had a laugh to spare.

I vote in every election. It’s a privilege. I’d vote more often if it were legal. I’m bombarded with political advertisements. I realize that most are from PACs (political action committees). PACs are willing to strike a Faustian bargain to get what they want. Many are filled with distortions and falsehoods. “Let me tell you something I don’t know,” they say. Under the guise of trying to give heft to a campaign, they promote their agendas ruthlessly. Push polls are ostensible opinion polls in which the objective is to sway voters by using loaded or manipulative questions. From my jaded standpoint, all those things are not only deceitful, they are a complete waste of money. They need better product development.

A granddaughter took 500 shots during one self-imposed basketball practice. Her father served as her rebounder and passer. She was named Player of the Year in AAU basketball for the state of Minnesota. She works hard to be the best player she can be and the recognition was nice. People of all ages want to feel appreciated.

Surrounding me with dishonest advertisements doesn’t make me feel appreciated. Pat Summitt, the legendary basketball coach who never had a losing record in 38 seasons (1,098 wins and 208 losses) and won eight national championships, said, “Here’s how I’m going to beat you. I’m going to outwork you. That’s it. That’s all there is to it.”

We need that from both office seekers and office holders.

Nature notes

I watched our cat, Purl, perform her daily ablutions. An old saying is, “If a cat washes her face over her ear, it’s a sign the weather will be fine and clear.”

With that as a guide, I headed outside. Virginia creeper showed much red. Ruby-crowned kinglets fluttered wings incessantly as they foraged. A flock of pelicans passed between the sun and me. Fifty pounds of pelican shadows went by just out of my reach.

My yard showed me its first dark-eyed junco on October 6, a white-throated sparrow on September 21 and a red-breasted nuthatch on August 24. Many butterbutts (yellow-rumped warblers) were feeding on berries. Raucous blue jays, noisy robins and flighty flickers (our only brown-backed woodpecker) filled the rest of the yard. The robins were busy eating the fruits of hawthorn and mountain ash trees.

Purl was right.

Meeting adjourned

  Keep your loves in the right order. Be kind.