Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting:

My cousin Earl lost his job as a lifeguard because he couldn’t swim.

Why didn’t he learn how to swim?

Because Earl and water don’t mix.

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: I see dead insects while I’m driving. My windshield is covered with kamikaze insects that came to a glassy end. They are particularly numerous this year. I clean the windshield regularly, but there are always replacement splatters at the ready. What is the last thing that goes through an insect’s mind when it hits a windshield? The rest of its body. A sunroof makes it easy to fit a car into tight parking spots. The driver could always crawl out through it. Car dealers like balloons. Is the sight of balloons supposed to create a desire to buy a new car?

The cafe chronicles

The man parked his car outside the eatery’s front door. His vehicle was ancient, but honorable.

The waitress poured him a cup of coffee before he sat down without a word passing between them.

“Be strong,” he said.

“Who are you talking to?” I asked.

“My coffee. I’ll need it to wash down a hamburger. The hamburgers here are always out of focus. I’ll order a lettuce salad with French dressing on 1/3 of the salad, olives on 1/8, sunflower seeds on 3/16, Italian dressing on 1/4, shredded cheese on 12 percent and ranch dressing on 44 percent. They will bring me a hamburger instead. Order a hamburger. It’ll be the best hamburger you’ve ever endured.”

Another loafer ordered three meatballs, as he wanted to learn how to juggle. The waitress told him that it was good to see him and when he left, it doubled her pleasure.

The waitress, the mother of six small children, cut up my meat for me.

Pickles and parades

I watched a feline walk down the railroad tracks. It was a cat on a hot train route.

I’d been listening to music from Iron Butterfly to Madame Butterfly on the car radio while on my way to a local celebration, when an Arlo Guthrie song came on.

With apologies to Arlo, I sang, “I don’t want to ride my motorcycle. I just want a deep-fried pickle.”

I’d never eaten a deep-fried pickle before that day. It was good, but not quite as good as a dill pickle that isn’t fried.

The parade was well run. Tootsie Rolls were tossed from floats, but the secret to a good parade is to make sure the horses are at the end.

Jim Finseth of Albert Lea asked why us local yokels have hunched shoulders and sloping foreheads. He said it’s because when asked a question in school, we shrugged our shoulders. When we learned the answer, we smacked ourselves in the forehead.

Those thrilling days of yesteryear

I made rope from baling twine by using an ancient hand-operated, rope-making machine. I used the twine transformed into a rope to tie an old tire to a tree branch. I didn’t do that to keep the tire from rolling away. I did it to make a tire swing. I’d no time to admire my handiwork. I’d sit on that tire, swaying back and forth, before turning the tire and the attached rope until it could be twisted no more. Then I’d let go and see how long I could spin before feeling uncomfortable. A sit and spin in the shade. Cool and cooling.

Starbuck’s Fast Food

I found myself in Nevada, Iowa. That had never happened to me before. I was hungry. That happens to me regularly. I craved a loose-meat sandwich, a sloppy joe without the sloppy (sauce). We all like different things. I like loose-meat sandwiches. So I went to Starbuck’s Fast Food along the Lincoln Highway. It’s not the ubiquitous Starbucks famed for coffee drinks with many adjectives. A yellow sign directed me to the door. I had a blueberry malt and a loose-meat sandwich. I couldn’t put it down until I’d downed it.

Fortunately, I don’t live that far from the Tendermaid in Austin, another fine establishment offering this tasty sandwich.

Nature notes

Pigeons and doves produce pigeon milk. They regurgitate a milky substance, heavy in protein and fat, to feed nestlings.

Meeting adjourned

“Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.”— Ralph Waldo Emerson