High loader not a good substitute for Highlander
Damphewmore Acres, Kan.
A good neighbor of mine, ol’ C. Faren Wyde, a month or so ago had hip replacement surgery.
The surgery wuz done in Manhattan, Kan. He wuz recovering well until one evening he, unfortunately, rose from sitting in his home, lost his balance, fell and broke the leg attached to his replaced hip. It wuz serious and required an emergency trip back to the hospital in Manhattan. His son used the family’s SUV as an emergency ambulance and made the trip.
When the family members started to communicate Faren’s situation to each other that evening, well, that’s when something funny happened — and the family is still chuckling about it several weeks later. First, Faren’s wife called his sister and told her about Faren’s fall and trip to Manhattan in the family SUV. She even used the vehicle’s model name — Highlander.
Well, Faren’s sister, hastily conveyed Faren’s situation to his brother who lives in the neighborhood. However, in her haste to communicate, she told her brother that Faren had been transported 60 miles to Manhattan in the family’s “high loader,” which is a small square hay bale stacking machine the Wyde family uses in its haying enterprise.
Faren’s brother realized his sister had misspoken, but he replied something like, “that’s going to be a long, cold, slow, bumpy ride for brother Faren.” Then he explained the difference between the family Highlander SUV and it’s high loader bale handling machine.
Needless to say, no member of the Wyde family is about to give the sister an ounce of slack. Nope, they keep piling on. When Faren’s son was ready to bring his dad back from his stay in Manhattan, he posted on the internet a picture of the hay loader with the comment that “I’ve put more loose hay in the loader so dad will be more comfortable on the ride home than he wuz on the ride up.”
Of course, sister replied, “Not funny!”
I’m happy to report that Faren is well into his second successful surgery recovery, and the Wyde family now has another funny “memorable moment” in its history.
Just found out today that “the community” race horse, Kumsee Mytrick is booked into his second race. It will be Wednesday evening, Nov. 20, as the fourth race of the evening — a maiden claiming race. He will start from the good post position #4.
He will run before this column gets read, but I hope to have better news to report than his first race wuz.
Okay, it’s time for Desktop Bingo. I’ve got a stack of envelopes and slips of paper in my desk that’s accumulated for several months as possible column material. Some of it might be funny, or not. Some of it might be related to agriculture, or not. Some of it might be political, or not. Here’s the first envelope.
• At my age, when I get carded, it ain’t for booze. It’s for medical insurance.
• My doctor told me to spend an hour a day on my treadmill. It sure is an uncomfortable place to take my afternoon nap.
• My wife often talks to herself. Of course, she doesn’t know it. She thinks I’m listening.
• The hardest part of being on a diet is watching other people eat all the great tasting foods.
• A cloudy day is no match for a sunny disposition.
At a trial for a rural burglary, a lawyer asked the farmer to describe someone he saw leaving his farmstead after the crime.
The farmer answered, “The person had a bushy brown mustache and a long filthy-looking gray beard.”
The lawyer continued, “Was this individual male or female?”
The farmer, barely containing a grin, replied, “Unless the circus was in town, I’m going with male.”
Here’s a short poem about Colorado cowboy Tex Junkman, by his friend Jay Esse.
“Tex is great at rounding up cattle,
But not so good at sorting sheep or pigs.
Because if he tries to turn or stop them,
They run right through his bowed legs.
Tex says his legs aren’t bowed at all.
He claims his jeans are a special kind.
‘Specially made so his legs look bowed,
But, I believe Tex is feeding me a line.”
Wise words for the week. “Thanks, Lord, for not allowing me to become who I would have been if it had been left completely up to me.” Have a good ‘un. ❖