Milo Yield: Laugh Tracks in the Dust 7-16-12
The old saying goes that what goes around comes around. I’m sure it’s not universally true, but I’ve got some friends with a story to prove that saying is true part of the time.
Several years ago, my long-time friends, Mr. and Mrs. Loston Fowndagin from down in Altamont, Kan., went to an outdoor event of some kind and took their lawn chairs with them and, as a precautionary measure against loss or theft, wrote their last name on the back of the chairs.
Somewhere in the middle of the event, the Lostons left their chairs in place and went to buy drinks. Lo and behold, when they returned a few minutes later, they discovered their clearly identified chairs were gone — either stolen or mistakenly picked up by an innocent party. Either way, the chairs were gone.
They returned home with a little less conviction in the good ways of their fellow man, but went on with their lives.
Now, turn the pages forward a year or so. The Fowndagins again attend an outdoor event and take new lawn chairs with them — also with their last name clearly written on the back of the chairs.
During the intermission, they left their chairs in place and went to the concession stand. When they returned to their seats, Loston went to one pair of “named” chairs and the Mrs. went to another pair of “named” chairs — except they were now seated several rows of seats from each other.
Yep, the “lost and named” chairs had magically reappeared at the event. Loston told me that he simply went to where his wife wuz sitting, gathered up his long-lost chairs and put them in the trunk of his car.
He said he returned to the remaining chairs, but no one ever showed up to claim the “lost” chairs. So, in the end, they still don’t know if the original chairs were stolen or inadvertently “borrowed.” Regardless, they now have four “named” lawn chairs.
My friend Jay Esse from Longmont, Colo., says he got a great deal on buying a pair of water skis, but now he can’t find any hills on any mountain lake to ski on.
This story in from Osceola, Mo. A farmer’s son returned home for the summer from his freshman year at the University of Missouri. Eager to learn of their son’s experiences at college, his dad and mom asked him if he’d found a serious girlfriend at college.
Junior reported that he’d had a few dates, but all the girls had turned out to be too “citified” for any of the relationships to get serious.
When his folks asked how Junior knew the girls were “too citified,” he started listing the reasons: “Well, none of ’em had ever tried a chaw of Red Man. None of ’em wanted to go fishin’ because worms were too icky. They didn’t appreciate the jar of Bag Balm I used to make my hands soft. They didn’t like country ham and they’d never even heard of red-eye gravy. They didn’t like tractor pulls or rodeos.
“And, they all liked cats better than coon dogs and all their cats had names. They turned green when I explained that mountain oysters aren’t seafood from Colorado. They thought the only difference between a cow and a bull is a bull has horns.”
Junior’s parents agreed that his college education wuz definitely making him smarter.
Have you heard the story about the preacher of a rural church who was hired by the church deacons to paint the church as a supplement to his meager income. The agreement wuz for the preacher to supply the paint and be reimbursed for materials and labor at the end of the job.
Well, the preacher painted and painted and had only the front of the church to finish the job. However, it wuz late Saturday evening when he discovered that he had only 2/3 enuf paint to finish the job.
Since he knew he couldn’t buy paint, nor finish the job on Sunday, he made a hasty decision to add some paint thinner and finish the job, rather than wait until Monday to buy more paint.
The preacher finished the job and wuz quite pleased with the final look and the money he’d saved. He went home for the night and prepared the final bill for the deacons.
However, that night it rained hard and when he arrived Sunday morning to deliver his sermon, he was chagrined to find that the diluted paint has washed off the front of the church and stained the steps and sidewalk.
Knowing he wuz in trouble, the preacher looked to the heavens are cried out, “Why, Lord?”
He wuz stunned when a deep, authoritative voice boomed from above, “Repaint! Repaint, you thinner — and thin no more!”
Might as well end this column with a quote about churches. Msgr. Joseph P. Dooley, is noted for saying: “Quit griping about your church. If it were perfect, you couldn’t belong.”
Have a cool good ’un. ❖
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