That Reminds Me . . .
Wherever I go people tell me stories. And I pass them on. Here are the latest. Hope they make you smile.
October 17, 2024 Bartlett Public Library
In Bartlett They Give as Good as They Get
Had a grand time in Bartlett at the ibrary which is conveniently right next to the school. Somebody was thinking ahead! I know it’s a good session when I get nearly as many stories as I give. Here are a couple cockahs about yankee traders.
I’m reminded of the ancient storyteller credo: I can’t vouch for the details of these stories but I know they’re true.
John told about a fellow named Tim Hill who had a car for sale at his garage in town. Price $100.
His buddy George haggled him down. To $75, then $50, and finally, $25.
“Deal,” George says. “You got a payment plan?”
* * *
Ty told about Errol, known for his frugality, who locked out himself out of his house. He didn’t want to break a window (glass costs money), so he got ahold of the local locksmith, known for his business acumen.
The locksmith picked the lock and opened the door.
“That’ll be $10,” he said.
“I ain’t paying $10 for two minutes work,” Erroll said.
The locksmith snapped the door closed. “That’ll be $20,” he said.
Sept. 11, 2024 Laconia Friendship Club
Two (Too) Big Families
At the Laconia Friendship Club, which meets weekly in Gilford (go figure), I met two women from Bar Harbor, which is near my camp in Maine, and we learned we had friends in common—specifically the Hatch family from Salisbury Cove and Donnell Pond. Chalk that up to the small world department.
The Hatch family included seven children, named alphabetically, beginning with Alan. Sure enough, Ella, who grew up in Rochester, Vermont, is one of nine children, also named alphabetically: Allison, Barbara, Christine, David, Ella, Frederick, Gratia, Harold, and Irene whole middle name is Jean since, somehow, Mother knew there wa’n’t going to be a J child coming along any time soon.
For vacation, there were too many kids to fit in a car, so Dad bought a rattletrap old school bus. They went all over. But the trip to Quebec proved . . . . Well, here’s what happened. Driving down from the heights of Mount Royal, the rattletrap bus lost its brakes. Dad laid on the horn to warn any vehicles on the road ahead as the bus picked up speed. The horn stuck. So that bus full of kids comes speeding and wailing into town. Finally, rolls to a stop.
A police officer was waiting: “Why did you do that?” the officer says, in French. Luckily, Dad spoke French, so he explained the situation as best he could. (Mother wasn’t happy.)
As the family headed back to Vermont, Mother said: George, that’s the end of our vacations.
And it was.
***
Ella’s story reminded Rachel of a story. (This often happens.) Her dad was out for a Sunday drive on Hurricane Road in Belmont. It’s a narrow road. Not much room for passing. He drives pretty much the whole length of it at 15 miles per hour.
The local police officer pulls Dad over and asks for his ID. “Why, Mr. Bretton,” the officer asks, “were you driving so slow?”
“Well,” Dad says, I’ve got ten children at home and I’m in no hurry to get there.
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