Emporia: Disc golf national capital
For folks who don’t know this, it’s a fact that Emporia, Kan., is the “Disc Golf Capital of the U.S.” I don’t believe that’s a formal title, but it’s true because folks regularly travel to Emporia from all over the U.S. — and even foreign countries, to participate in various categories or divisions of disc golf tournaments.
So, that’s why we had visitors last week from Branson, Mo. Our friend, Ike N. Slingitt, brought his youngest son, Aimen Slingitt, to participate in a youth disc golf tourney. Ike also brought his two other sons, Ben and Brodie, but they were not playing in the tourney.
The Slingitt crew moved into our basement for four days because young Aimen kept himself near the top of the leader board and kept advancing day to day.
We’re happy to report that Aimen finished fourth out of more than 70 kids in the tournament. The winners of his age group were a year older and they were the champion and runner-up of the same tournament last year.
I’ll mention that Aimen must get his disc golf skill from his dad because Ike was the champion of his division at a national tournament in Emporia last spring. I’ll add that both of the other sons are excellent disc golfers, too.
Heard a good story at the Old Boar’s Breakfast yesterday. It’s sort of a sad, ironic story.
A local cowboy wuz competing in a wild cow milking contest when the whole thing turned into haywire wreck and he ended up in the hospital with a severely mangled leg that required emergency surgery.
After the surgery, the cowboy woke up in the intensive care unit and a grim faced doctor informed him that he had both good and bad post-surgery news to report.
The cowboy gritted his teeth and said, “Well, give me the bad news first, Doc.”
The doctor replied, “Well, sir, there wuz a terrible urgency mix-up in the surgery and the result is that your non-injured leg was amputated just below the knee.
The cowboy was stunned by that bad news and asked, “Doc, what could possibly be good news after such bad news?”
The Doc answered, “Well, your injured leg is going to heal up just fine!” He added as an aside, “Plus, modern prosthetic legs have made remarkable progress.”
While I’m on the subject of cowboying, this is a true story about a local ranch rodeo crew.
The crew drove to a contest somewhere south of Wichita and they were cutting it close on entry time, so the driver decided to wait and fill up with diesel fuel after the event wuz done, even though the fuel gauge showed low.
The ranch rodeo wuz over after 11 p.m. and the crew headed back toward Wichita where the driver of the truck and trailer intended to fill up the tank. But, lo and behold, there wuzn’t an open fuel station to be found. Every one of them wuz closed for the night, although at one place the attendant had just closed down the pumps and refused stubbornly to open them back up.
So, they hoped to find fuel up the road, but nary a diesel pump could be found. So, they pushed on towards home with the fuel gauge knocking on empty and frequent reminders from the occupants in the jump seat and the shotgun seat that “you never want to run a diesel engine out of fuel. It’s expensive!”
When they limped into Strong City, they dared not drive another mile, so they parked and started calling for help. First call went out well after midnight to ol’ Sol E. Mender, the local cowboy boot repairman, leather worker and artist. He, in turn, called — and awakened from a sound sleep — someone who had a personal bulk diesel fuel tank.
Eventually, fuel cans were found and diesel fuel brought to the stranded truck and everyone got home safe and sound, but not without taking a lot of grief from the “helpers.”
One more thing to add, one other time this same ranch rodeo crew ran so low of diesel fuel that a member had to ride his horse to a fuel station, carrying a fuel can, and bring diesel back to the truck. Some folks, apparently, never learn.
It wuz getting dry again, but last night, we got a welcome 1.4-inch rain and it’s still drizzling today. That will perk the garden up, including my newly-planted sweet potato plants.
Which reminds me that natural rain must be far superior to hose water. My proof is in my garden’s raised bed of carrots. I planted them two months ago and watered them regularly through the June dry spell. Germination wuz spotty and some plants grew to 3-inches tall. Then, when the natural rains hit the bed for the first time, voila, here comes a fresh germination of carrot seed. Don’t know why, but it happened.
Words of wisdom for the week: Some people are like clouds — once they disappear it’s a beautiful day. Also, common sense is not a gift. It’s a punishment because you have to deal with everyone who doesn’t have it. Have a good ‘un.
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