Competitively priced shingles
Shopping for farm and home products wuz a lot different back in the “good ol’ days,” compared to shopping for the same stuff these days.
Back when businesses in thriving small rural towns offered a full array of products needed in everyday rural life, farmers and ranchers didn’t have to drive miles to buy needed goods and services. Everything they needed wuz available locally.
Which leads me to the first story for this week’s column. It wuz told to me by my new Colorado friend, 96-year-old Bitsan Rowells, who lives in retirement near Greeley.
He told me about a job he got as a 9-year-old doing odd jobs that a kid could do at a lumber yard in a small rural town. He said he wuz on the job one day when he overheard the following conversation.
A local rancher came into the store and told the lumber yard owner he needed to buy a few squares of asphalt shingles for a roofing project.
The owner priced the shingles at “seven bucks a square.”
The rancher replied, “Well, that’s a bit much. The other lumber yard down the street has shingles priced at $6 a square.”
The owner, a bit miffed, shot back, “Nuthin’ keeping you from buying your shingles down there then.”
“Well, I stopped there first and it didn’t have the shingles I want in stock,” the rancher explained.
“Oh, that’s different,” the lumber yard owner countered. “I can easily beat that price. When I don’t have any shingles in stock, the price is only $4 a square.”
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William wuz a local lothario in a small rural community. His antics as a womanizer gained him quite a reputation and the nickname “Wild Bill.” William made a living doing odd jobs in the community.
One day he showed up on the front porch for a little fix-up job. The woman who answered the door gave William a wide-eyed look and asked, “Aren’t you the guy they call ‘Wild Bill?'”
William looked at her, gave her a sly wink, and replied. “The men call me ‘Wild Bill,’ but most of the ladies call me ‘Sweet William.'”
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My story last week about unusual farm land sales prompted a faithful reader, ol’ Rocky Rhodes, to respond with an e-mail story describing a land sale in the Flint Hills that also took place during the Great Depression.
Here’s the story: “As to farm land sales, during the depression, there was 120 acres just east of me and across the road south of my granddad’s land. Granddad said he bought it three times before he got it paid for. Twice, he put up the down payment on the sale, but couldn’t make the payments either time and had to let it go back to the seller. Finally, the third time, he got it paid for — and that was probably $10-15 an acre. At that time, banks and insurance companies owned a lot of Chase County.”
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Recently, I’ve heard a couple of unusual wildlife stories. I’m sure the first one is true because my young deer hunting neighbor, Chris, from Emporia, Kan., sent me both a picture and a video that verifies it.
Chris wuz bow hunting one morning from his tree stand. The stand overlooked a nice clearing with timber edge both left and right. He said he saw a nice buck deer along the edge of the clearing on his right. It wuz out of arrow range and looking nervous.
About that time, his eye caught movement in the timber to his left and, “whoa,” a big, mature bull elk popped out of the timber and into the clearing. It wuz out of range, too, and Chris didn’t have an elk license. So, he whipped out his cell phone and snapped a picture and captured a video.
The bull had a huge atypical rack and, as it headed across the clearing, Chris said the buck deer retreated on the run.
Needless to say, Chris wuz excited about the elk sighting. The nearest elk herds to Emporia are about 75 miles away right here close to me on the Fort Riley military reservation. Local folks around Riley have to drive with care not to collide with elk on the highways.
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I can’t verify this second wildlife story as true, but it wuz told as true at our daily geezer gathering. The story goes that a local farmer wuz harvesting grain in the fall and left his grain truck in the field overnight. It’s windows were rolled down.
The next morning, he arrived at the field and opened the truck door and surprised a big bobcat that wuz basking in the sun on the seat. Apparently the farmer and the bobcat equally surprised each other. The bobcat hurled over the farmer’s head and disappeared into the uncut grain. The farmer wuz left scratching his head in awe and feeling lucky that he wuzn’t nursing bobcat scratches.
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Words of wisdom for the week: “Thermometers aren’t the only things that are graduated with degrees without having any brains.” Have a good ‘un.
