It was Tom's birthday so John and I decided we would call him and sing Happy Birthday. When the phone answered we began to sing. Then we heard no, no, no, no. We had called Mike by mistake.

I've been trying to think of another story, but my mind seems to be blank. You would think after all these years I'd have hundreds of them. Right now my most important story is a thank you to the Lord for bringing Mike and Diana through their case of covid.

Recently John an I went to have lunch at the Hibachi Grill ( a Chinese buffet). I think the food is great -veggies, fruit, breads, lots of different kinds of dessert - just about anything you want, shrimp and chicken 50 different ways. well, maybe not 50, but close. Anyway, John went in with his walker. When the waiter took us to our table, a gentleman rushed up and pulled out his chair for him. I thanked him and he went on back to his booth. John decided he wouldn't use his walker at the buffet, so I went with him and held the plate. He hung on to me and put the food he wanted on the plate. Apparently others were watching. After eating a bunch the waitress finally brought our check and the fortune cookies. As we were reading our fortunes, the 25.00 ticket was abruptly snatched from our table. I was at a loss for words and sat there trying to figure it out. It was the guy who had pulled out  John's chair. I saw him standing up near the cash register, so I went up to him and said, "You didn't need to do that." He said, "Yeh, I know, but I wanted to." I cannot for the life of me remember what else I said at that point, but finally at the end I said, "May God bless you." He said, "I think He already has." With that we hugged each other and he  left. I'm still in awe, and think of him often. Now I feel like I should do something similar. What a wonderful person he must be.

Some years ago a group of us went out to dinner. It was a nice place with a big round table to accommodate us all. The waitresses all wore cute little aprons tied in a big bow in the back. When the waitress got around to me to take my order, she was facing me and had her back to Mike, who must have been 3ish at the time and sitting in a highchair. He reached over, grabbed the sash, and untied that big bow. Fortunately she caught her apron before it fell. I can't remember if Mike laughed or just had a stunned look on his face.

Tom and I were both born in Columbia, MO and lived there quite a while. At one point we lived across the street from our cousins, Donnie Ray and Sharon Hope. We played together a lot. Tom was still pretty little (my BABY brother) so he wasn't with us so much. I wasn't allowed to cross the street without an adult because I might get hit by a car. (there were probably 2 or 3 all day). I did it a few times anyway and I would see mom come out the door, break off a switch from the tree, and head my way.  Not a pleasant experience, and you'd think I would figure that out. But playing with my cousins was more fun, so I took my chances. If it rained they would come over to my side of the street and we'd go to the empty lot next door. There was a great spot for making mud pies. We would make a bunch. I don't know if it was the name "pies" attached to it or not. But Donnie would always eat one.

It was over the week of July 4th probably about 17 years ago. The four of us, Diana, Paul, Kyle and I went on a vacation out to the west coast with our trailer. We reached the thriving metropolis of Sydney, NE when the trailer decided to lose an axle. Well, it didn't fall off but the bearings in the axle seized up causing one of the wheels to no longer turn. That seemed to be a problem. That and the smoke billowing out from the dragging tire. After a little panic (the thought  was where there is smoke there is fire, no fire thankfully) we managed to get a call to a towing service. Out came a truck from Rood's Tire Service in Sydney, and, after blocking up the wheel somehow, escorted us back to town. He took us to the lot of Rood's right off of the main street. When we were parked, dumped the trailer and figured out the problem he reported that we would need a new axle and it would be three days before we got one air freighted to us. (I saw dollar signs.) I asked him where we could stay and he responded, "That's your home there, ain't it?" pointing to the trailer. "Just stay there." He ran an extension cord out to us. We were on the lot, which was a bit higher than the street with the trailer sideways to the street just above the sidewalk. We got out our little grill, grilled for a couple days in the parking lot. On the fourth of July, there was a car parade down the main drag that we had a front row seat to. We got out our folding chairs and sat around the fire a couple of nights. We drove into town and went to the public pool. That way we could swim AND get a shower. We hit a restaurant and a laundromat. We also discovered that Cabella's was based in Sydney. Despite the 'campground' we had a pretty full time. We almost hated to leave. Almost. Best of all, on the way out of town there was a dump station for the trailer.

One day I had some sewing to do, so I went to my machine and began to work. As I was sewing, Mike came into the room. He must have been about 3 at the time. All of a sudden he decided to put his hands up by the needle. I kept telling him, "No", but he persisted. I finally slapped his hand (lightly, of course). Not having been slapped or spanked before (because he was the perfect child), he thought it was a game. He started laughing and kept putting his hand back on the machine. Finally I just quit and we left the room.

Mike, you can't remember a smidge of this, can you?

It was quite a few years ago, back when Kyle was maybe 10 or 11 years old (as I remember it) and we went up north to visit in the summer. Davy wanted us to meet him at a place called Bimbo's. It was (is) the equivalent of a Lake of The Ozarks restaurant/bar. He had this crazy smile and said that he got the hottest wings they serve and wanted us to eat them. 
Before moving forward with this story, I should point out that up north, to spice something up they quickly pass the pepper shaker over a pot of something. Sometimes, they may actually turn the shaker over. Back to the story . . . . .
Kyle, never one to back away from food, quickly reached out and snagged a wing. He took a tentative bite (he wasn't stupid) and then all of a sudden DEVOURED that wing. A machine couldn't have done it faster. He came back for more. I've seen the boy eat and decided if I wanted any, I'd better get in there. Between the two of us, we cleaned it up in minutes. We repeatedly asked Davy if he wanted any. Maybe it was the wings talking, but I swear every time we asked him (or I looked over) his face had taken on a more crestfallen look than it had before. He forgot the primary rule. A lot of us southerners eat spicy food often. To add insult to injury, I remember him asking Kyle if he thought it was spicy and Kyle responding, in between gulps, "No. It's not."

Back in my college days I got a parking ticket.  Uncle Harold was a city detective in the town,Columbia, where I was going to school.  Not having much money, I thought maybe Uncle Harold could fix it for me.  I went to his office at the police station and explained my situation. Uncle Harold said that since I had come to the police station for the first time that I should take a tour.  He showed me the first floor offices then took me down stairs to where the jail cells were.  While I was looking at the inside of a jail cell I heard the cell door slam.  I turned around and Uncle Harold was gone.  After some time passed, Uncle Harold returned, opened the cell door, looked at me and said.  "Pay the fine".

The year was about 1969 when the Fox and I were rebuilding a house in Farmington Mo.  After a days work we were sitting around watching the evening news.  After the news was over I mentioned that I wanted to play the harmonica and that I had bought one.  I got the harmonica out of a drawer and said that I had no idea how to play it.  The Fox said "Let me see that thing." I handed him the harmonica.  The Fox started playing that harmonica about as good as Stevie Wonder.  I was 28 and didn't know the Fox could play the harmonica.