Get off your . . . chairs!
Stand up for the flag!
A group of Legionnaires from this area snorted, kicked chairs and asked patrons in a box seat at Ak-Sar-Ben to please stand for the flag. They refused.
The incident occurred the other night at an opening performance. Twenty-five to 30 Legionnaires were seated directly behind the box seat and when the rider passed with the flag, they noticed the half a dozen people (adults and children) did not stand.
That stirred the blood of the war veterans, but they said nothing until after the National Anthem was played and the group did not rise.
This time a chair was kicked "to get their attention" and one angry Legionnaire called to the group to "get off your a . . .."
They refused, but stood with the rest of the audience for the "seventh inning stretch."
The Legion group included a post commander, DAV member and a mixture of Korean and WWII veterans and their wives. They said they could understand it for a religious purpose, but for nothing else. They wrote some letters voicing their objections.
The recipe contest
Among the many things at which I am an expert is judging recipes of pork dishes.
Fortunately for the cooks there were other judges, but I gave it the ole' country try. I had to impose on the No. 1 cook at our house for a little deciphering on what the dish would look like when all the goodies were added.
She flittered and fluttered around in a show-and-tell attitude trying to convince me I didn't know anything about the finer things of food preparation.
Actually, we got along fine until we got to the main dish section. For the sake of contest fairness, I won't tell you the decision. The cook at our house objected to my choice and particularly to my method of assessment when I suggested serving her favorite and my choice to four hungry football players.
Like I say . . . fortunately there were other judges, including the former Peru State home ec teacher, Mrs. Art (Louise) Kregel, and Mrs. Fred Oetgen who prepared the meals with her husband at Steinhart Lodge for many years.
22 years a Guardsman
Maj. (ret) Dennis Kennell, Nebraska City, was recognized in a recent issue of the Nebraska Prairie Soldier for a poem he penned about his 22 years as a member of the Nebraska National Guard.
Major Kennell wrote the poem on his return from annual summer camp at Camp Roberts, California. He reflected on the defense of a free country through the National Guard, pointing out that the duty will not end. Others will do their part to maintain the spirit of the "legend of the Thundering Herd," the name attached to the guard unit.
Major Kennell and his family live at 1548 North 11th Street. He is a representative of the Farm Bureau Insurance company.
The airplane sale
The ad in the N-P told about the first airplane auction to be held in the state. That sounded different, so I mounted the motorcycle on a beautiful Sunday and wheeled to the Arrow Airport at the north edge of Lincoln.
As I wheeled into the airport, Dennis Schroeder gave a welcome wave and shouted:
"Put a price on it and we'll sell it today."
Arnold Schroeder explained to the good-sized crowd that selling an airplane (or buying one) is no different than an auction of a cat or other big machinery.
There was a lot of jargon I didn't quite capture about "navco's", "transponders", "total time" and "(x) number of hours since topping," but I walked along the rows of planes at least admiring what I didn't understand.
And then I saw a jewel. She was about the prettiest thing I guess I've ever seen and her sleek lines glistened in the bright sunlight. Naw . . . Millie . . . it was an airplane.
I nudged up against the fuselage and looked in the window. Sure looked complicated with all the dials and gauges. The upholstery was clean. It was like one of those used cars that a little old lady had in her garage for years.
Arnold had the bidding under way. "Awwright, I've got 75, do I hear 77 . . . now give me 76 . . . YEAH! . . . we've got 76 . . . etc.
The bidding moved along at a good pace, then appeared to be bogged at 91 or 92 . . . YEAH! . . . I've got 93 and she's going to go . . . do I hear another 50 . . .
You might be interested, that's not $93, or $9,300, but $93,000.
I munched on a Polish sausage, sipped a can of pop, walked the airport grounds and visited with Capt. Harris Esluer and Jim Olsen who were also looking over the planes.
The motorcycle ride home didn't seem to last long enough, but after I put the bike away and stretched out on the living room floor to "paint the ceiling" my bones told me that was enough for one day.
The Jolly Trippers
Mr. and Mrs. Ed Bottcher and a busload of hearty travelers will leave October 10 for another of those see-the-U.S.A. bus trips. This time the group will tour New Mexico and Arizona and other points in the southwest.
The Jolly Trippers organized in 1967 when a group of travelers guided by Mr. Bottcher went to Washington, D.C., to plant a tree on the capital grounds. This will be Trip No. 12 for the group.
"We always have a great time," Ed says. "We're a rural oriented group and have a lot in common. We have a good time together."