Dr. and Mrs. Carroll Prouty will celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary August 10 from 3 to 5 p.m. at the St. Paul United Methodist church at 12th and M Streets in Lincoln.
Dr. Prouty was pastor of the Nebraska City Methodist church for a number of years. The Proutys are frequent visitors to Nebraska City. They also attended the Chautauqua.
We won't be here to attend their wedding anniversary, but we send along our best wishes.
The Prouty address:
Dr. Carroll Prouty.
3610 Vine St.
Lincoln, Nebr. 68503.
We're anxious to load up our Maverick "6" and get rolling down the highway in a couple of weeks for Los Angeles. Manny Weinman fixed us up with some heavy duty shock absorbers, Bill Gangel outfitted us with tires and Bill Winkler of Gangel's tuned the wheels and alignment.
With all that mechanical savy out of the way, all we need is time and cool weather. The trip will be brief, but we figure on "mobiling" long hours with early starts each day.
The little Maverick has buckets and you know who is going to sit in front . . . yeah . . . the King and his Queen Bee.
Meanwhile, in the back seat there could possibly be overtones of a Muhammad Ali-Joe Frazier fight with Billie Jean King as the referee.
There may be an ever-so-little effort by No. 1 son to antagonize two sisters to the point where he gets to sit in the front seat . . . depending on Queenie's patience.
As for me, no sweat. I can sing louder than the kids and I have a few choice songs like "You get a line and I'll get a pole, we'll go down to the crawdad hole," or "Beg Your Pardon," or Johnny Cash's "I'll Walk The Line," or pure delight in "Shine on Harvest Moon."
Boy, I'll tell you . . . if you really want to control an audience and soothe things, all you have to do is warm up the vocal chords and unload with a peach of a tune. The kids may not enjoy it, but . . . it takes two hands to cover their ears.
This trip hopefully will be the first of annual trips to the coast. My dad has been retired for a number of years and doesn't care to travel. It may be a working vacation, because the folks hope to be moving to another area in Los Angeles.
We have three licensed drivers in our family and a growing towhead with a learner's permit.
The seating arrangements in the car will be the first round of fun.
"Yes," said No. 2 daughter, "and I suppose you'll make me sit on the 'hump' because I'm the smallest."
"I'm not going to sit by HIM," said No. 3 daughter pointing to the towhead with the clunky feet.
"You don't have to worry about that. (censored) . . . I'd sooner ride on top with the suitcases."
"Awright . . . awright, hush. We haven't even started packing yet and you guys are at it again," observed the wise King. "I have a suggestion . . .."
"Lookout, Keat," said No. 2 daughter, "here comes his curve. Go ahead, daddy."
"My suggestion is that we rotate over a given distance so that anyone with a hot seat won't have to squirm too long before he or she gets a chance to switch."
"What's the matter with you, Clarissa?" the boy said. "It sounds great to me. Only . . . dad, will it get too hot for Jeannea in the trunk?"
"Now cut that out!" exclaimed the master. "Jeannea . . . belt him and he'll quit saying things like that."
"She better not lay a hand on me . . .."
"That's enough!" up perked the Queen Bee and the conversation quieted.
"Ivan . . . you stop teasing the children."
"Clarissa, you stop fussing about sitting in the middle."
"Jeannea . . . just don't touch him if he's so finicky."
"Keaton . . . get up on your big feet and come here and help me."
(Does this sound like your home?)
"Psssst, daddy," No. 2 daughter said.
"Huh?"
"Do we have to share driving?"
"Uh-huh."
"How long?"
"100 miles nonstop."
"You wouldn't dare . . .."
"Try me, kiddo."
"M-O-T-H-E-R!"
The bald headed preacher reprimanded a fat woman for going around in a bikini.
Her retort: "I'll have you know I'm no more nude than you without a hat."
Scott Simms . . . the finest.
Bub Conley, chief of the Kearney Hill Road Commission, has watched Scott Simms pitch and hit for the Legion Midgets and says the ball player is "the finest 'kid' pitcher in my time."
Scott is the son of Mr. and Mrs. Jack Simms.
"He can pitch as well as hit. How many Big League pitchers can hit? My guess is 1 out of 20. This 'kid' will make the big time if he so desires. He has the smooth delivery — cool — and knows the game which is Out to Win.
"I'll bet all we people of Nebraska City will someday be proud of Scott in the Big Time."