Claire Lovell

We keep losing our old timers. On April 3, Florence Godick (Rae Hardesty to me) died in Seaside. As a child, Rae, with her parents and sister, Louetta, lived in my neighborhood. Her house was one of those recently demolished at the corner of 7th and Roosevelt. It was because of the Hardestys that I felt a pang to see it go. Younger people dont always appreciate any sentimentality for times with the past but thats the way it is.

We offer our condolences to Raes children and other family members.

Another recent loss was Jeanne Olson Anderson Fitz whom I knew in school as Jeanette. I forgot how long ago she married an old friend but Im glad they had some time together. Maybe a year or so, Ill miss Jeanne. She was one of the people who knew how to pronounce Wahanna.

Granddaughter Andra Artemova, her husband, Maxim Artemov and her father, Gary Hill, visited on the 19th of April for three days. While here, they met Ky Jennings who is publishing my book. We were doing a final run with pictures so weve had more contacts. The kids got in a little beach walking and took in some touristy places. Gary reported seeing a sign in what sounds like the former Harrisons Bakery Annex which could be given wide usage around town, except that its probably copyrighted: Unattended children will be given a cup of espresso and a puppy.

Son Gary also reminded me that it was Everett Dirksen who said, A billion dollars here and a billion there soon amounts to real money. OK. Call me a liar for a million dollars. Chump change these days.

A farmer was once walking an old donkey when the critter stumbled and fell down a well. It was quite a narrow structure and the animal was pretty well wedged in at the bottom. Looking over his options, the farmer decided getting his donkey out would be an impossibility so he set about filling the well with dirt to bury him as he lay.

Soon the shovelfuls of dirt began to fall. The donkey looked up and decided to save himself. Every time the dirt fell on his back, he shook it off and stepped up. That action continued. The dirt fell, he shook it off and stepped up. In no time at all, dirt had filled the well. With the last shovelful, the donkey shook it off, stepped up and over the short distance to the edge of the well. I imagine he stepped off at a jaunty pace down the road muttering, Never give up; never give up.

Ok so its no bedtime story but there must be a moral in there someplace.

Comment: I get these tales from TV. Sometimes I dont hear the punch line and dont write it till much later, so every now and then I make up my own endings. If you heard it too, we may not always agree on the outcome.

Quip Corner: Since the fellow who baked this loaf has a cockeyed sense of humor, it must be wry bread.