I know spring is getting closer by the day. My close relative has one old yellow flower flopping around in the frost, and buds on the maple tree are falling all over the porch. I track them into the house and she, you know who, clicks that tongue and draws her brow into multi-furrows. I can’t help it. It is too dang cold to stand around and scrape off the sticky things. So, you see, it is getting close.
About one more day of gray and I may have to take a trip to the southern hemisphere. I don’t know what or where that might be but it’s sure out of the cold. I suppose my battery may be run on solar power because I am getting pretty low on juice. Besides all the misery, I lost an hour on Sunday!
I decided to go to the sale barn and watch the fellers make money this week. Sure was exciting to see, about like a circus at the payout window. Old men who had not grinned in 20 years were breaking outsmiles and sorta skipping out the door. Killer cows and bologna bulls were filling fellers’ pockets. Of course, I had nothing to sell and, of course, the sun wasn’t shining.
When I went out to leave, a couple of older men were comparing their checks. They were giggling and slapping each other on the back. Happy days were there for them. I wondered if they realized they would need fuel in their trucks to go home and the checks they were so proud of might just cover the ticket.
I had a flat - picked up one of those big tin nails and probably the only one in the parking area of the sale barn. OK, the family wanted me to have this cell phone so we could call for help in an emergency and this seemed to me to be the time to use it. I called the older of the male offspring and asked him, rather gently too, to come help me out. I returned to the cafe in the sale barn and ordered a steak.
I called my close relative and informed her of my dilemma and the decision to stay in town until her offspring could get me in running order. She was not too kind about the whole thing, asking if I was gonna eat steak and fries with a side order of grease. I assured her I was old enough to take care of myself and cut the conversation short as I saw a feller opening the door to come in and he was sure happy.
I invited him to sit with me and congratulated him on his fine cattle that had landed so much cash in his pocket. I went on about how sad it was that I had none to sell at the time and yet a flat tire and having to spend money to eat in town.
It is my opinion, and everyone has one, you should never deny a friend the pleasure of doing something nice or giving you a gift. I do believe it is not proper to look a gift horse in the mouth, question the motive of a nice surprise or fail to say thanks.
My friend, good friend at that, paid for my steak and offered to take me home. So, you see, all was not lost on this dreary day!
Bill is a pen name used by the Gravette author of this weekly column.
Opinion, Pages 6 on 03/16/2011