We decided to join the "Company's Coming" program by helping with the cleanup around the house.
First, the Missus said we had to clean out the "junk shed."
For shame, Millie, that's my neat and tidy tool compartment.
Well, we decided to keep peace in the family we'd better get on the ball. Clyde Stoll has opened up the City dump on Saturday afternoons and a couple of Sundays so that gives us a chance to get back on our Sunday visits.
The first thing to catch the trash-hauler's eye (that's me) was one of those African Safari hunt hats. Only this one is white styrofoam and has a red-lettered label on the front: NEBRASKA CITY CHAMBER OF COMMERCE.
Oh, yeah, now I remember. That came from the state corn picking contest held south of town several years ago. Boy, we had a ball at that deal, helicopter rides, the whole bit.
That's when I first got my citizen band radio and transmitted with call letters KGI 8621. I got the results of the contest and radioed them to the News-Press for the story.
Since the contest, the hat was worn once on Halloween night when we made a few visits for trick or treat stories, once at a school function and a few times as a bonnet against the hot sun while mowing the lawn.
Really, Millie, I can't throw that away. I'll just put it back on the nail in the tool compartment.
Then there is a broken snow shovel.
Only this snow shovel is only a couple feet in length and was used by a little girl who has since grown up (and out of the snow-shoveling habit).
I remember when I bought that at Rollie's Hobby Shop. I bought two and the other one was used this last winter by Jeannea, our youngest.
I could throw away the old broken one, but it does still have fond memories like the letter "D" painted on the handle for the little owner.
Tell you what, Millie, I'll just put it away in the corner where it won't take up any space. And maybe sometime when I go to the dump I'll remember to take it along.
There's a 20-foot long chain. That brings back memories of "Jet," my Weimaraner. She was to be the hunter's friend. An illness which led to her death, left this hunter with a collar and chain.
As a youngster at home, we had a "coon" hound. We called him "Thunder," a name which appropriately fit him on the hunt.
He was the largest, fastest and meanest dog I've ever seen, but to the hunter he was an obedient friend. Since those years of "Thunder" we thought we'd try it again, only this time with a bird dog.
Raymond Bossung let me have the pick of his litter. She was the same breed as the huge dog owned by Dr. E.J. Kotab. His dog is also gone now. (He can tell you about the hunting qualities of the Weimaraner.)
I think I'll save the chain, Millie. It makes a good stop on the gate where we keep the lawn mower.
Omigosh, there's that old bumper jack I borrowed from John Smull when I was tinkering on my old Studebaker. John lives in Kansas City now. It'd be a shame to haul it out. Guess I'll keep it til sometime.
There's an old grass catcher that was part of a power-driven reel lawn mower I got from the late Francis Cole. The mower has since worn out but I hated to toss away a perfectly good catcher and since it doesn't take up much room, I'll just leave it hanging on a nail.
Well, there's one thing I'm not going to part with — my bull!
He is made of malleable iron and at one time was the 60-pound decorative piece on top of windmills for the Fairbury Windmill company. He's still got the ring in his nose and the chain attached.
The late Merritt Whitten made an offer at one time but I told him I didn't want to part with him. After all, he's a pretty hefty piece of bull to toss around.
I could toss out some of those coffee cans Millie's been saving for me. Oughta keep that gunny sack for Keaton's fishing. I'll still need those laths for tomato plants we'll put next to the fence. Hate to toss away those six "original" glass beer bottles, 'cause someone may want to melt candles in them.
Can't toss out those fruit jars 'cause we won't have any home canned peaches and cherries if I do that.
There's that whole box of sea shells my uncle sent from Port Isabel, Texas. Better keep them for the little kids . . . That three gallon crock takes up space, but it might be used for sweet pickles this summer. Can't toss out that pogo stick from Art and Dorris Sackles. Betcha I've put a dozen rubber cups on the bottom of that blamed thing.
Well, that ought to about do it for "Company's Coming."
Don't believe I'll need a truck after all. Maybe I'll just put the junk in a plastic bag to be picked up by the cleanup crews who are making the rounds.
How'd you do at your house?