A FEW AUTUMN SCHOOL MEMORIES FROM DAYS GONE BY

It wasn't only the crickets in the cornfield I could hear this morning, it was also the cornfield itself.  A brisk westerly breeze played its way across the fields rustling the corn stalks as it passed.  These cooler sunny mornings in the countryside are so special.

 YES, IT'S GETTING TO BE THAT TIME OF YEAR ALREADY

 AREA BEAN FIELDS ARE RIPENING

Figuring I had better take advantage of the earlier morning's cool air, we headed home after our walk.  Hauled out my shop vac and went at our Winnebego's interior.  It wasn't really dirty but there were cobwebs and things in the corners that needed vacuuming out.  Because of not using the rig's gray water dump valve very much these past couple of years it was almost seized up, but with a little WD-40 and some good old elbow grease, I was able to get that valve freed up and functioning properly again.  The black tank valve is fine......and the toilet is still holding water:))

 SCOOTER'S CAB IS STILL IN THE SAME PRISTINE CONDITION IT WAS WHEN IT WAS NEW TWENTY YEARS AGO

I am always happy to see the end of July and August and the beginning of September.  It signals cooler temperatures and that is a biggy for me.  It also signals, in my opinion, the most beautiful time of the year.  A quiet time, a peaceful time.  There comes a breath of nostalgia in the air and it's a time for looking back and remembering.  My early school days come to mind.  The smell of erasers, inkwells, farts, pencils. and paper.  And yes, there always seemed to be the smell of little people's farts wafting through the classroom air.  I remember the laughter and games in the schoolyard, meeting new friends, recess, skipping ropes, games of marbles, and breaking in new teachers.  Hearing the school bell ring and the scrambling of hundreds of little feet on the steps leading to the classrooms.  Hearing the opening and closing of those old wooden desk tops as notebooks, pens, and paper are hauled out.  The sounds of old iron radiators banging away bringing warm welcome heat on those cold winter days.  Chalkboards and their brushes, the old map of the world that pulled down and singing God Save The Queen every morning while standing at attention beside our desks.  Wooden floors that my mother, aunts, and uncles had all walked on many years before I was ever even there to walk those very same floors.  I think my kindergarten teacher might have been my mother's kindergarten teacher.  And I remember the big maple trees in the schoolyard in their colorful Autumn glory.  'Fire drill' had us all scrambling in single file hurrying down long steel outside stairways from top floors to the ground below where we lined up for a head count.  I always liked fire drills because it was a chance to do something different and get outside for fifteen minutes.  Not so swell in the winter time though.  There were always things going on in the schoolyard too.  Most of them good and some not so much.  A new kid came to school one day and he was big and powerful.  It was decided amongst some of us bigger fellas that somebody had better challenge him and show him his place.  I was the one picked to do that.  Of course, the required fight ensued whereupon he hit me once and knocked me out.  We became good friends after that and he was truly a gentle and 'friendly giant.'  (that friendly giant was your brother Donald Snarey) Yes, I have a lot of treasured Autumn memories that swirl up every year at this time and these were but a few................         

GROANER'S CORNER:((  At the height of a political corruption trial, the prosecuting attorney attacked a witness. "Isn't it true," he bellowed, "that you accepted five thousand dollars to compromise this case?"  The witness stared out the window, as though he hadn't hear the question.  "Isn't it true that you accepted five thousand dollars to compromise this case?" the lawyer repeated. The witness still did not respond.  Finally, the judge leaned over and said, "Sir, please answer the question."  "Oh," the startled witness said, "I thought he was talking to you."

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"I'd like to order a pizza” the guy says at the bar. “Shall I ask them to cut it into six or twelve slices,” the barmaid asks.  “Six, please. I could never eat twelve pieces."

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