Know what to do and do it.
Ivan D.E. Beaumont.
Saving a life.
Ila Hanson, Lincoln, a member of the mobile heart team, told the first aid class the other night at City Hall that the one big step to saving lives of heart patients is for more people to know what to do.
Miss Hanson is a representative of the American Heart Association and lectured at the Emergency Medical Training class which is conducted each week under the sponsorship of the NC adult education and Southeast Community College.
Seattle has the biggest "save" rate in the country, she explained. That means that more heart patients in Seattle live than in most other towns and cities.
The reason, she explained, is because more people in Seattle have had some sort of emergency training. "They know what to do and do it."
She suggested that for Nebraska City to improve its emergency medical care program more people in the town should get into first aid classrooms.
If you're interested in such a class, call the rescue squad business phone 873-3444. Frank Batallion is the secretary.
Wayne Whitney.
We lost a friend with the death of Wayne Whitney of Lincoln.
Mr. Whitney bubbled with enthusiasm. He particularly liked Nebraska City where our horticulture was a main attraction.
He was on the Backyard Farmer TV program about 20 years, served as an horticulturist in the state for many years and spoke to many groups. One of the talks we remembered most was a colored slide story . . . on the proper construction of an outhouse. He was a master at humor.
The Whitneys were shopping in Nebraska City just a few weeks ago. Mr. Whitney had retired a couple years ago and in his usual humorous way he explained that he was making more money "retired." In this case, the federal government was his financial partner.
He gave me a tip a couple of years ago that proved worthwhile. He enjoyed cracking walnuts and at long last had "discovered" a super-duper kind of walnut -cracker . . . at the Gambles store in Pawnee City.
We have that cracker in the basement of our home. It's loaned many times and it's a conversation piece.
We miss our friend, Wayne, but we remember most his warm and happy living.
Rolling 'em out.
I looked at the kitchen clock. It was 7:30 a.m. "Phooey," I said. "He's up now so I'm going to call."
For once Queenie didn't fuss . . . It was below zero outside.
"R-r-r-ing. R-r-r-ing."
"Hello," came the response.
"Dean, you wanna thaw out some frozen water pipes?"
"Go-l-l-y no," Dean Hauptman of D & D Electric said.
"Well, then, how's about working inside and putting a new motor on my furnace?"
"That sounds better."
About 4 a.m. that morning I was given one of those, affectionate, sexy elbow jabs that bruise, but don't break ribs . . . "Ivan . . . Ivan . . . get up . . . get up . . . something's wrong with the furnace."
Sure enough. The motor was shot. So I shut off the juice and went back to bed explaining it will be cool when we get up.
Out little electric heater that the teen-aged females often used during their morning hair washing and primping came in pretty handy that morning at the breakfast table.
As a matter of fact . . . we didn't have a pucker or a sour face at the breakfast table, . . . and that was sorta unusual.
Dean planned to come up shortly and replace the motor. We were all gone when he did his work, bet we appreciated the warm comfort when we returned. It had been 42 degrees at the breakfast table.
This palaver points up to one thing . . . we sure depend on a whole lot of other people.
Next time I may just call Bill Brockley and won't wait until daylight. Snicker . . . snicker.