The Nebraska City Jaycees will have one less entrant in the annual Christmas lighting contest — A. W. Carr of 1215 Third Avenue said he is selling all his decorations.
Mr. Carr's home has been one of the highlights of many Christmas lighting tours by families for 10 years. He has several plaques which recognize him as a winner and several other recognitions earned through the years.
His wife, Zella Ziegenhain of Beatrice, died in June. And Mr. Carr said he has lost interest in the annual job.
"She didn't help much with the work of putting up the lights, but she sure enjoyed them," Mr. Carr said.
The Carrs moved to Nebraska City from Avoca in 1961. Mr. Carr retired in 1960 as a Missouri Pacific agent after 47 years of service. He started his Christmas decorating job with a single nativity scene at his home in Avoca in 1948.
The hobby soared in ambition and last year Mr. Carr said he had nearly 1,900 bulbs and "no idea" now many feet of wiring. His lighted flag contains 525 bulbs.
The Carr home was lighted after Thanksgiving and left on until New Year's, much to the complete satisfaction and amazement of many, many motorists who drove past 1215 Third Avenue.
Mr. and Mrs. Carr, who were married for 53 years, enjoyed the hobby through the years. "We really never got to see the decorations; we were always on the back side."
The Jaycees surely will feel the loss of the competition of Mr. Carr in the Christmas lighting contest.
Thank you, Mr. Carr, for sharing your personal hobby with so many people.
John Quinlan, the News-Press reporter who shares this desk, has on "his side" a left handed dictionary.
It should be used when you're about ready to quit your job and join the Foreign Legion.
For example, how's this for cheer?
A skeleton — That's a stripteaser who overdid it.
A pretzel — A biscuit on a bender.
Profit — That's wages for those who don't work.
Dictionary — That's a guide to the spelling of words which can be located if you know how to spell them.
Diaper — Trousers worn during the age of the indescrition.
Broadcloth — The kind used for Jackie Gleason's pants.
Despite threats, we will publish a list of the Nebraska City subscribers to Playboy magazine.
Surprisingly, most of the subscribers are housewives:
"I buy it for my husband every Christmas," one housewife replied. "I'd rather see him sit in the living room with that magazine and snicker."
(Stolen from Ed Ransdell's Car Quotes at Weinman Auto)
Dad to his son, the Boy Scout:
"Did you do a good deed today, son?"
"Sure did, Dad," the youngster beamed, "five of us escorted a little old lady across a street."
"Five? Why'd it take so many?"
"She didn't want to go," the boy replied.
Kenny Clinefelter, the editor of the Lincoln Telephone company magazine, puts out a newsy issue each month that not only contains the happenings in the LT&T business, but also several features.
(Kenny and I worked at the Fairbury Daily News, where we learned to develop film and make prints in the darkroom at the police station. We had some good times. The Daily News has since folded and taken over by the Fairbury Journal.)
He often reprints humorous articles and the best we've read recently was about General Patton, the famous WWII commander in Europe.
Ken said it was the only time General Patton was speechless.
The only time anybody ever saw Lieut. Gen. George S. Patton at a complete loss for words was during his desert maneuvers in 1942 in the Southern California desert, before he went overseas to Africa.
One day Patton sped down a road in a jeep. Suddenly, he yelled "Stop," and the jeep shrieked to a halt. Patton jumped out and strode over to a telephone pole. Up the pole was a young man in soiled khaki, no cap and open shirt. He was fixing a wire.
"Come down here," the general roared.
The lad looked down at the immaculate general. "I'm busy," he said.
Patton nearly went up the pole after him. Fuming, he repeated his command. The youth shrugged and came down the pole. And, horror piled on horror. He did not salute.
The veins stood out on the general's forehead. He bitterly berated the youth for his unpressed trousers, his unshined shoes, his open collar, his lack of a cap, his unpardonable failure to salute.
Finally at the height of his rage, he stormed, "You're a disgrace to my army. I won't tolerate it, I tell you, I won't. Give me your name and company."
It was the first chance the lad had to speak. He looked Patton straight in the eye.
"My name is Joe Johnson. My company is the Southern California Bell Telephone Co., and you can go straight to hell!"