| A Word Edgewise
by Mary Joe Clendenin |
 |
Often Told Tales Are Still Funny
I hear "Oft Told Tales" from the coffee clubs occasionally, especially the Sunday Club which meets everyday except Sunday. Some are pretty good. Some depend upon the talent of the teller and have lost effect by the time I hear them. I have a few that would fit rather well, but I prefer to tell them to you like this.
Alfred Lucke was a little man--little in size only. He and his wife Nora, the parents of my best friend, Lorene, lived and worked on the nursery during the '30s. Just because he was so small that Nora bought his clothes in the boys' department at the store didn't mean he couldn't stand his ground.
In fact, he used to tell us, "I may be little, but I'm wound tight." He was. He could do as much work as any man on the place and have fun doing it. He kept his hoe sharp and his hat brim turned down--maybe not as much to protect him from the sun as to hide the mischievous glint in his eyes. At the bottom of each practical joke, of which there were many, Alfred might be found laughing the loudest.
Bob Womack was a big man, and had the reputation of being just a tad lazy. Bob talked a lot to support a macho ego that sometimes got him in trouble, but he was right in with the fun.
Bill Ham and Alfred used the same cow lot there on the place for their milk cows.
They usually milked about the same time in the mornings and evenings. Bob was perfectly willing to accept a little fresh milk when they had more than enough and he didn't have to milk. He didn't have a cow at the time of reference.
Once, when Bill was to be gone over night, Bob was going to milk his cow for him. He and Alfred were at the lot that evening getting ready to milk.
It was customary to let the cow's calf suck a little before milking, then separate the cow and calf. Next to the lot was a small pasture for the calves to graze during the day and at night, but there was no gate to it. The fence was a rail fence where the rails fitted between two posts at the ends, and had a gate to the cow pasture, but none to the calf pasture.
Alfred's calf had already been weaned and was gone, but Bill still had a calf which was in the cow lot when Bob got there. He let the calf have his share of milk and then intended to put it in the calf pasture. Look, no gate.
Bob said, "How does Bill get the calf in that pasture?"
Here was a chance for a good one. Alfred said, "Well, he used to just lift him over."
Bob said, "Anything that character can do, I can do."
Now, the calf was about weaning size, maybe weighed 300 pounds, was gentle and used to being handled. Bob tackled him and tried to lift him. No way. He muttered and groaned and tried lifting first one end and then the other, getting madder all the time and muttering about what that Bill Ham could and couldn't do. Finally, he fought and shoved until he just kind of rolled the calf over the fence where it landed on its back and bounced up. In the mean time Alfred was laughing until tears were rolling.
You see, Alfred had said "Bill used to lift it over the fence." He failed to tell Bob that now, since the calf was so big, Bill removed a rail and the calf jumped the fence.
Always, something was going on around there. Bob was one of the budding crew, along with about seven others. Loleta Smith, always in a good humor and talking most of the time, was one of the crew. We carried our supplies: a bucket of bud-wood, jug of water, bud sacks, band cans.
As we walked to the seedling patch Bob would take advantage of Loleta's one-track mind. While she was talking, Bob would hand her whatever he was carrying, and often reach for what others were carrying and handed them to Loleta, too. She would take every thing he handed her and keep talking, until she would have her arms loaded.
She would stop, like that camel and the last straw, and say, "Where did I get all this?"
The one who laughed the loudest was the guilty one, but Bob reduced the load.
I'm glad that I remember the funny things that happened. Of course, the many stories of tricks, jokes, funny accidents and all that happened are fodder for oft repeated stories that gather laughter through the years. Now, I get to tell them to you. Almost none of the originals are still alive to enjoy the telling--but they have left a rich heritage for which I am thankful.