"Hey, Ivan!"
"Yeah?"
"What's the 'D.E.' in your name? Dead End? (snicker snicker.)."
"Naw, it's no secret. It's been on my Social Security card since I was about 11 years old, Ivan Dee Earl Beaumont."
I could never figure out why I didn't end up with a name like Sean, Ryan or Ringo. Three other members of the family have handsome names like Dolores Darleen, Marianne Jane and Dennis Eugene . . . all named by Mom.
Dad stepped in when No. 2 son came along and said, "here, now woman-of-the-house, I'll handle this little fella . . . (all the conversation took place in a little home in Kansas, in Mom's bedroom of course).
And with one big breath he spelled out the name for the doctor who was trying to write all that or the birth certificate with a fountain pen and trying to keep from squirting ink on the kitchen table. (Ball point pens came many years later, kids).
Dad never had the answer I was looking for when I asked him about my names. My family is Welsh English, Russian and French, so maybe that accounts for some kind of answer.
We have a young woman working in our office, Charlotte Hays from Ringgold, Louisiana. Her hometown is not far from Shrevesport where a good friend of our family works in a printing shop.
I first met B. Glen Price when we were in the Navy at Pearl Harbor. He's a big strapping fellow who never had any trouble handling sailors. And, despite his friendly attitude and smile, he's got a temper.
I only saw him flare up once . . . that was when a "Yankee" called him by his first name, "Beverly."
He was named after his grandmother.
See? My name is not so unusual.
It was shortened for four years, during military service, but when I returned to the life of a civilian and the stencils washed out, we sorta dropped "Ike."
Hello there, LeRoy Fletchall.
LeRoy Fletchall, 2105 Third Avenue, is maintenance foreman of American Meter company in Nebraska City, a Volunteer fireman and rescue squadsman. He has been with American Meter for 18 years.
He likes to help in his community and gets a special kind of satisfaction of doing volunteer work. "It's something you can't put your finger on," he said recently. "It just makes me feel good."
LeRoy is a quiet, reserved citizen. But he was a real tiger at one time.
During WWII, he was flight engineer on one of the Navy's C-54's, four-engine airplanes, and logged nearly 8,000 hours of flying time.
Today, he has no interest in piloting or throttling an airplane engine. He prefers his pickup and camper and a pleasant weekend.
He was "burned out" of his airplane, belly whopped another and crawled back into the cockpit of another and took off again as one of the many men who did their jobs during The War with little notice.
"Those kids who flew those planes really had guts," LeRoy recalled. "They were just that — gutty-kids."
LeRoy neglects to mention flights when he was the co-pilot and engineer or when he was the only one in the cockpit . . . apparently he was one of those "gutty kids."
A preview of "Two A Penny" screened the other day at the Optimist meeting was a good selling job . . . the Optimists bought a packet of tickets for students at the School for the Visually Handicapped.
The film is a story about two young kids, their love affair and accepting Christ after attending a Billy Graham crusade.
And because it's Billy Graham oriented, I'm all for it. When Billy's crusades are on, I'm the TV hog in our family. We really enjoy his messages.
I'll never forget the night he spoke on sex. He told the parents and the TV viewers that his message was aimed at the young, and boy did he lay it on the line in a well presented way.
After it was all over, I strutted around the living room puffing away at the Cherry Blend and said:
"You know, Millie, I think maybe we better have a talk with No. 1 son about the birds and the bees."
"Yes, Ivan," the queen bee answered. "It's time YOU have a talk with YOUR son."
. . . did you ever get the feeling that you're all alone in the world when a problem comes up?
The boys and girls at Senior High said they really enjoyed Sheriff Joe Higgins, the Dodge dealers safety sheriff.
His message to the young was a dilly and he apparently talked the language they understood. The sheriff spoke to the students about such things as snuggling while driving down highways and the responsibility they faced as the person who might be the cause of the death of the other person in the car.
With all his seriousness, he held his audience captive with quips about young couples in cars and he had 'em rolling in the aisles on occasion . . . seems there's no such thing as a generation gap between the 60-year-old sheriff and the teens of today.