I don't know if this is true. ..but
Didya hear the one about the man who got off the elevator on the wrong floor at St Mary's and found himself in the maternity ward?
He went over to the window to look at the babies, noticed they were crying and asked nurse Teddy Webering what was wrong.
"You'd cry too," she said, "if you had just arrived, found you owed the government $2,000 on the national debt and had wet pants."
One of the most pleasant assignments we had recently was to take a picture at Riverview Terrace of couples married over 50 years.
About seven or eight years ago we attended a 50th wedding anniversary in Kansas for a favorite uncle and learned a lesson — Uncle Henry and Aunt Ruth were ready for the observance long before their friends and relatives arrived.
So, I remembered that little incident . . . and went to Riverview Terrace 15 minutes early.
Yup, you guessed it. The smiling couples were waiting. They are Mr. and Mrs. Bob Harrah, Mr. and Mrs. Emory Ford, Mr. and Mrs. Lester Horton, Mr. and Mrs. John Paben and Mr. and Mrs. Elmer Holliway.
It took a little moving about to get the couples situated in chairs on the lawn, but the 10 residents were so willing, they made the job easier.
I thanked the group for the time they spent so we could print their picture in the paper.
"I hope it wasn't too much of a bother to you to get all spruced up and sit in the warm sun just for a couple snaps from a camera," I told one woman.
She smiled and looked at me with a sparkle in her eyes.
"I wanted to get that apron off anyway," she said and walked away on the arm of her husband.
(I've said that meeting so many new and friendly people proves to me again that I've got the best job in town).
Didya hear the one about the janitor who reported to work 10 minutes late and the manager asked, "What did they do in the Army when you were 10 minutes late in the morning?"
"Everytime I came in late," the janitor explained, "they all stood up, saluted and said 'Good morning, colonel.'"
Mr. and Mrs. Harry Kastens, Avoca, enjoyed their bus trip with the Jolly Trippers and thanks to Mrs. Kastens, News-Press readers got the report as soon as the group returned.
We visited with Mr. and Mrs. Kastens briefly at the Republican party barbecue at Syracuse the other night. They pointed to Ed Bottcher, Talmage, and said he does all the work making the arrangements.
Stolen
And then there was the one about the drunk who went to court with his wife at his elbow.
"Your honor," she explained, "this here no account husband of mine drinks."
"Yash sir," the old boy said, "I do drink some, but that woman don't treat me right. I sold the kitchen stove for booze."
This happened at Rev. John Green's First Evangelical Lutheran church . . . er . . . so I'm told.
A little boy was sitting in the church pew between brothers and Mom and Dad watching a bald headed man in the next pew in front scratching the fringe of hair on the side of his head.
The little boy watched the continued scratching, leaned forward and whispered.
"Mister, you'll never catch him there. Why don't you run him out in the open?"
Well, hello there Diane Larsen.
There is a young woman in the Nebraska City school system who stands pretty tall in our house and hopefully in the home of some other Dads and Moms.
Diane Larsen is the phys ed and volleyball teacher at Junior High and . . . you know what she does?
SHE MAKES THE GIRLS WEAR DRESSES!
We have rules in our house (the kids say we've got enough to publish a book) and dress codes are at the top of the list.
We don't say too much about the length of a boy's hair . . . as long as it's not shaggy, is shampoosed regularly and combed. I gave up on the shoes. That's a losing battle in Today's Tennies World.
But we think that once in awhile a girl ought to look like a girl and wear a dress instead of pants, pants and more pants.
Well, that's where Miss Larsen comes into the picture. No. 3 daughter, Jeannea, wears dresses twice a week. You can imagine the surprise at the breakfast table when she came into the kitchen one morning wearing a dress without a bedroom-closet fight.
"Heya, there kiddo. What's the bit with the dress this morning? No clean jeans?"
(I wish I could describe in words some of the answers I get in the morning.)
The eighth grade volleyball player smiled, bubbled around the kitchen and put us all in a state of shock.
"Oh, I HAVE to wear a dress today," she said.
"Well, honey, I know you HAVE to wear dresses at least twice a week, but you usually wait until Thursday," I said.
"Oh, we always have to wear dresses on volleyball game days. Miss Larsen said so."
"Your're kidding."
"No, Dad, I'm not. You can ask her."
Heya, uh, Miss Larsen, you're the greatest middleman-woman I know.