Tuesday, May 5, 2009

"Best Stories!"

Here we go! x

Give up your best "stories" of Cedar Vale! I'll start! It happened on the road to the "dam!" I was driving. Phil was riding 'shotgun'!" We must have rounded a curve a little too short! Nonetheless, we landed in a ditch! How we got out of the ditch remains a mystery to me! Perhaps Phil will 'fill" us in!

As I remember, we retreived ourselves from the ditch, with minor damages to the Shaffer Car! Not knowing what to do, we resorted to the only "other" friend we knew, Mr. Beggs, our band director! Well, we tooled over to his house and asked him what he would do in such a similar situation! In words that will ever ring true, he said, "Just tell you Dad what happened, he will understand!" Well, we did that! I told my Dad what had happened! I can't remember his exact words, but as I remember, it came out somewhat like, "Well, Don, what happens, happens!"

I've told you one of mine! Let me hear your "best Cedar Vale stories!"


Pat Pate Molder said...

Just one of many wonderful memories of growing up in Cedar Vale. This one also involves a car. I took Grandpa's (Albert Pate) car to town and parked in front of L.C. Adam Mercantile ! When I backed out to go home I caught the fender of Mr. Metcalf's car with the bumper on Grandpa's car and did quite a number on Mr. Metcalf's car. (Was it Gould Metcalf; he worked in Adam's.) This made a loud noise and Mr. Metcalf came out of the store to see what happened. Of course (!) I started crying. He hugged me, told me not to worry about it because it could be fixed. Grandpa wasn't upset with me either. Both men were just glad I wasn't hurt. Neither of them even teased me about it later.

DFCox said...

In the 50s C.V. had a group of hard drinkers (alcoholics?) which included businessmen, bums, some in between. I was not living in CV at this time, but this is an oft told story that involved this group. They were inclined to go on prolonged binges and on one of these episodes the following happened: (This is from the Hilltop group so it has to be true)

Somehow the group found themselves in casket showroom somewhere and one of the group wanted to know how he would look at a viewing. (could it have been "Curly" Rommel?) He forthwith climbed into the casket and reclined. Naturally the others thought it would be cute to close the lid to frighten their friend. Well this was one of those high dollar caskets that seal and can only be opened with a special key. I guess things got tense before they found the funeral director and the key. When the casket was opened, the interior was completely ruined by the panicy occupant. The drinkers had to come up with the cash to refurbish the casket. They say the embarrassemnt was short lived cuz they were all back at it the next weekend.

Don Shaffer said...

DF, I laughed out-loud reading your "casket" story! :) Don, I think you ought to write a book! Really do! I'd buy it! That's for sure! All of us could supply you with material! Give it a thought!!!! I can not think of anything that would bring more pleasure to those of us who "blog," and those who read the blogs!

Moving one.... Pat, when you mentioned Gould Metcalf, I remember a particular poignant time at the Adams Feed Store, across from the lumber yard, where Gould worked. I'd sit on the feed sacks and listen to the yarns spun by people who always impressed me! Well, one day, Gould turned to me and said, "Don, I hear that you slumber in your sleep!" My face turned crimson and with what little courage I could muster at the time, said, "I do not!" The men regaled in laughter, as I slunk down from the feed sack, seeking solace and wondering what in the hell "slumbering" meant! When I got home and found out through the dictionary that "slumber" was a perfectly legitimate thing to do when sleeping! Wish I could tell you what lesson I learned that day! Just let me add, whenever Gould talked, I really listened!!!

DFCox said...

Pat, I imagine it was Gould's father who worked in the hardware section and had a beautiful little Ford coupe.

Phil Foust said...

Well, between Pat, Don, and Don ... I must say that my morning has been made much better. A couple of rather minor incidents I recall quickly ... and they both involve my dad who must at times wished he was childless.

1. While he was building our home across from the Baird house ... I was up in the attic area. He firmly told me to not venture off some boards but somehow I did ... and stepped through the kitchen ceiling. I wasn't hurt ... but the ceiling had to be replaced.
2. At the same place he was finishing up the garage ... and after what must have been either a fabulous date (or a frustrating one) ... I drove the car a bit through the end of the garage. Again, a repair job for my dad.
3. Dad seemed to take in stride all my bumps in life with great understanding. At the same time, should I challenge his authority as I did one time as a Sophomore ... as he looked me in the eye he brought his huge fist in front of me and expressed a lasting thought: "Boy, if you ever talk to me that way again ... this is going to go right straight through your face." (The exact wording is forgotten but I got the drift.)

wayne woodruff said...

When the boys basketball team played at Grenola High School, the games were played in a kind of civic auditorium down town. There was a stage at one end of the court with a big (red, I think?) curtain covering the stage. The visiting team,us, changed into uniforms on the stage. Imagine the group of embarassed boys running around in their jock straps and little else, when someone ?accidently (?Bill Williams?)pulled the cord and opened the curtain as the auditorium filled with spectators, who were presented with an unexpected entertainment.

Pat Molder said...

Great stores, Don,Don, Phil and Wayne. Don Cox - Was it Guy Metcalf who worked in the hardware store. After you mentioned "coupe" I remembered that he did rive a coupe.

DFCox said...

Yes Pat it was a dark blue or black Ford coupe. Yes it was Guy Metcalf, a very nice but reserved gentleman.

Don Shaffer said...

I remember Guy! He was just as DFC said, nice and reserved! Said a lot, with few words! Quite a contrast to those not so nice and not so deserved, who are receiving the headlines of today.

Life marches on! Who knows what the "headlines" of tomorrow will say? I just wish that those who write the headlines of today, could have had, or even imagined, the experience of living in a town like Cedar Vale! I am convinced that "living in such a town, would temper their words!

I leave with this one last story!
Don Downs, who worked for my Dad at the BBM Lumber company, had many "ways with the world! One day, he told me, "Don, if you would chew just a bit of tobacco when we're unloading this cement, (I can remember the smell!)...you won't be so thirsty! So, I stopped at Maurices's, and got a pack of Red Man! I chewed it vigorously! Feeling ready for the task, I took on those sacks of cement with a vengence! Well, half-way through, I was beginning to feel the effects of the Red Man! I will not entertain you with the "final results!" Just know, they weren't pleasant! The up-side is......I never chewed tobacco again!

There it is! Hope you're having a good day and a good night as well!

Diane Bradbury said...

In August of 1957 in Cedar Vale, Kansas, it was a hot. Sonja Venters and I were driving around trying to think of something to do. That's when we saw Kenny Wilkenson and another boy enjoying a drive around town. Both of us were only fifteen and had been given the restriction of driving ONLY in town. But for some reason I decided to drive out east of town, up Johnston's Hill and down Lover's Lane, Kenny following all the way. As I emerged at the bottom of the winding hill I was surprised to see the road covered with smoke and dust from a big wheat stubble fire. I couldn't see a thing and I knew not to drive into a fire or where visibility was zero.
I began braking and when I stopped, Kenny's car didn't.

There's nothing that gives you that sick feeling like hearing the sound of metal against metal in a car wreck.

Luckily we both could drive the cars - so back to town to see my dad. I couldn't put it off - I was anxious to get the telling over with. It seemed like a mile walking into the Ford garage. Daddy could tell something was
wrong and he got up and came to meet me. When I began to speak, tears and sobs came out, too.
Daddy just said, "You better not drive for awhile, hon." I turned and walked home feeling so relieved.

At the supper table that evening I pronounced that I would not drive until I was sixteen on Oct. 19. This self-imposed sentence seemed very long but I carried it out. When my birthday finally came it was Sweet Sixteen for more reason's than one. I could drive!