Democrats?
The Minersville Diary
Didya hear the one about the prominent Republican who went into the Legion dining hall in Nebraska City with a seven-foot alligator on a leash?
"You serve Democrats in here?" Henry Schemmel bellowed.
The waitress said "Yes."
"Well," said Henry, "whip up a Democrat for my alligator and bring me some fried chicken."
The dreamer
The sun came out, the snow and ice started melting so I wandered through the garage looking over the BMW motorcycle, just sitting there waiting.
"What on earth are you doing out there?" Queenie asked.
"Oh, I'm just piddling around and day-dreaming about summer rides," I answered.
Golly, was I day dreaming. It doesn't seem that long that we took a Sunday ride one hot summer Sunday through Waubonsie Park, Hamburg, Rock Port, stopped for a cuppa coffee at Trail's End and came home on the interstate.
"It won't be long."
"What?" she asked.
"I said it won't be long before we can get the Bemmie on the highway again."
"True," she answered. "If you're so all fired up about spending some energy, why don't you pick up a shovel and go chop and scoop that ice out of the drive?"
Mumble mumble.
"What was that?" she called.
"I said you sure look sharp in tight pants sitting on the back of a motorcycle."
"Don't be silly," she snorted. "Better get started on that ice."
Fletch
His name was LeRoy Fletchall and he was maintenance chief at American Meter company. His friends knew him as "Fletch" and as a man who believed in helping others.
Fletch died the other night. His friends from the Nebraska City Rescue Squad, of which he was a charter member, answered the call for help and rushed him to the hospital.
He was silent but active in organizations. He took a great deal of pride in the Nebraska City Volunteer Fire Department. On any emergency at American Meter, the volunteers felt they always had a head start because of Fletch.
His friends miss him.
The fair board
Thank you to Dale Bolz of Palmyra and Walter Reimer of Syracuse for working so many years as volunteers for the Otoe county fair.
The two retired from the board and were appropriately recognized at a dinner the other night.
I can't imagine either one leaving fair work. I think it just means they can't vote any more as directors of the fair board.
Hello — Max Snodderly
Did I ever tell you about the time I was rebuilding a jeep (the Jolly Green Jitney) and had mechanical troubles that bugged me for several days?
I tried everything, but that jitney would not run like I knew it should. One Sunday I was ready to push it in the river but thought I'd go next door and see if I could bother my neighbor.
Max Snodderly was service manager for Haley's Chevrolet Cadillac and one of those rare Model T mechanics. In his gentle way, he didn't laugh at my efforts but punched out the filter screen in the gas tank and the jitney jumped.
Today, Max has taken a few punches and is doing some recuperating at home. He remembers his friends well in Nebraska City and to help you remember him, here's the address.
Max & Alice Snodderly.
300 South Krudwig.
Lebanon, Mo. 65536.
We shared a garden space on one of Al Gibbs' lots, but gave it up for a new neighbor, Harold Gress.
We spent a lot of time and water in that garden, lied about the size of our potatoes and Max distributed the bountiful harvest of vegetables to friends and neighbors.
His brother, Rex, and wife, Eunice, got so that when they drove up to Max's for a visit they went to the garden first.
Oh, say, Max. Forgot to tell you, remember how we compared water bills and yours was always more than mine? Never did tell you before, when I watered the garden I hooked the hose to your faucet. Snicker snicker.