Laugh Tracks in the Dust 3-8-10
March 8, 2010
Here’s a funny, but told to me as true, story about a newlywed farm couple in Nebraska. It happened years ago, but I just recently heard the story.
The couple operated a grain farm and hadn’t been married long when the busy fall harvest season rolled around.
Due to the rush and pressure of the season, coupled with the long days and partial nights in combine, truck and tractor cabs, the newlyweds hadn’t got to see each other much.
One evening well after dark, the newlywed wife decided to take a snack to her husband operating the combine – which wuz jointly owned by the husband and his brother – in a big corn field.
She parked at the end of the field by the parked truck and waited until the combine got a few hundred feet from the end of the rows. That’s when she decided to give her new husband more than a gastronomical treat. She’d get a little risque and give him a visual treat, too.
So, she stepped out into the picked rows of corn where she could be clearly seen and “flashed” herself to him right in the bright beam of the headlights.
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Imagine her consternation when the combine stopped at the truck and out from the combine cab stepped her smiling-broadly new brother-in-law, not her husband.
Seems “hubby” had left the field for some reason and his brother had taken over as combine operator.
I’ll bet that story has been retold in that family for a long time.
And, another newlywed story that I doubt
A farm kid graduated from college, married a lovely big-city gal and brought her back to live on the farm. One day, the new wife’s old car stalled in town. When she got home, she told her hubby, “I was worried that your mechanic friend might try to rip me off. I was relieved when he told me all I needed was turn signal fluid and he put it in for no charge.”
My Iowa sheep-shearing buddy, ol’ Nick deHyde, tells this true story about the time the Missouri border guards let their vigilance down and he and his son Rip slipped across the border to shear some sheep for a feller near Gallatin, Mo.
He’d never been to the feller’s farm before, but he was sure he’d have no problem finding the place. He’d just ask one of the locals for directions.
Well, Nick and Rip stopped in a little cafe for breakfast and after they’d eaten, Nick approached a table surrounded by a bunch of aggie-looking types who were discussing – and offering solutions – to the world’s problems.
He introduced himself and said he wuz looking for his customer and wondered if anyone knew him. Nope, nobody had ever heard of the guy.
Now Nick understands how rural minds work, so he said, “I’m his sheep shearer, not the IRS, and he ain’t gonna be happy if I can’t find his place.”
That released the tension and a volunteer spokesman for the group allowed as how he probably did know directions to the farm.
The first part of his directions wuz: “Now, go north on this street until you come to the liquor store on the west side of the street. You can’t miss it. It’s the one with the drive-in window for the local Baptists …”
Nick found the farm, but he really got a good laugh from the directions.
One last true “animal” story for this week.
My ol’ buddy Rollin D. Birds has a brother who lives in New Haven, Mo., a shade west of St. Louis.
His brother is locally and “family” famous for his homemade wines. He can and does make excellent wine out of about anything that will ferment.
Last summer when the mulberries were ripe, the brother decided to harvest a bunch of mulberries and make wine from them. But, picking mulberries is an unenviable task, so he decided to take a shortcut. The first step wuz spreading a bunch of plastic sheets on the ground under the tree. The second step wuz to coax a grandson to climb high in the tree and shake the berries out.
That plan wuz working fair, but not up to expectations. So, Grandpa urged the kids to “shake harder.” The lad did, but to everyone’s surprise, not only did a bunch of mulberries fall out of the tree, but so did a big, fat woodchuck. It almost landed on the brother’s wife’s head.
I once saw a ground hog climb into the lower crotch of a tree trunk, but I didn’t know they’d climb way up in a tree to eat berries. I wonder how ground hog wine tastes?
I’ll close for this week with a great political quote about wine from Founding Father Thomas Jefferson: “I think it is a great error to consider a heavy tax on wines as a tax on luxury. On the contrary, it is a tax on the health of our citizens.”
So, relax with a good glass of wine, preferably homemade, and have a good ‘un.