Travels With Becky

A trio of tales

2009-11-06T08:00:00-05:00

Three quick ones gathered at the St. Pius X Women’s Guild meeting in Manchester:

Little Jasmine told her mom she’d gone to the school nurse that afternoon because she was feeling obnoxious.

The IRS contacted the minister and asked if Mr. So and So, had, in fact, donated $10,000 to the church. The minister said: “He will.”

Everett’s daughter, Sandra, age 7, took ballet lessons from Mrs. Ring. They ran into her in the grocery store. “Mrs. Ring,” Sandra announced. “You have your clothes on!”

We had a good turnout at St. Pius. In the middle of the program, someone said, “I bet you never had a cat at a program before.”

True. Patrick the kitten was being baby-sat by his grandparents. He listened quietly in his cat carrier. Oh, all right, he slept through most of it. Afterwards, he made an appearance. Here’s the little sweetie himself.

More pillow talk

2009-11-05T08:00:00-05:00

Remember my story of Pillow a while back?

Got this e-mail from Pat Cummings at quiltersmuse.com.

"Dear Becky,

"I enjoyed your story so much, we took a ride to Hebron and found said, "pillow" –only the stone said, "pillow of the UCC" – (United Church of Christ). Nice stone. Took a picture.

"Our best,

"Pat"

True stories are the BEST.

Here’s a picture taken by James Cummings of Quilters Muse Publications of the stone in question. Pat cropped the photo so’s not to broadcast the Pillow’s real name. She’s a sensitive soul.

A puzzle for you!

2009-11-04T08:00:00-05:00

What ship sails in the mountains?

Here are some pictures from inside the ship – from the day I “sailed” on her in a performance for a conference of New Hampshire Court Reporters. Where am I?

First person to guess gets a Live Free and Eat Pie T-shirt (size S, M, or Large – sorry all out of X-large).

The mule whisperer

2009-11-03T08:00:00-05:00

Brian in Berlin told this story, which he attributed to Lyndon Johnson. I heard it years ago at UNH from a history professor. Let’s hope it’s apocryphal.

George the farmer had a reputation for being able to sweet-talk even the most stubborn of mules. A mule-whisperer so to speak. His neighbor had a non-compliant mule so he asked George to come by and whisper some sense to the hinny. (A hinny is a female mule – I didn’t know this until I heard this story. We learn!)

George approached the hinny in the barn. He took a big stick and whacked her between the eyes.

The neighbor said, “George, I thought you were going to sweet-talk her!”

“I am,” George said. “But first I had to get her attention.”

Waste not

2009-11-02T08:00:00-05:00

Another tale of Yankee frugality. True story.

Auntie flew to New York for her operation, but it didn’t go well and she passed away. The family got word. What arrangements did the family want to make for her? And how would they get her home?

“Well,” said Uncle Nub, “she has a return ticket.”

Future outlook

2009-11-01T08:00:00-05:00

Dad talked with the sexton about choosing a plot. “Which one do you think,” the sexton asked. “You want one by the woods or overlooking the river?”

“Don’t make no difference,” Dad said, “all the views are the same. Straight up.”

Daring deacon

2009-10-31T08:00:00-04:00

Yankee humor sometimes gets a little bit, you know, spicy.

I heard this one from a Congregationalist, of all things!

The deacon from Errol, a bachelor, caught the train for Boston in Berlin. His friend saw him off.

“What’s in your pocket?” the friend said.

The deacon turned a little red. “It’s a bottle of perfume. I heard there’s some pretty women in Boston.”

“What else?” the friend asked.

The deacon pulled out a Bible and explained, “If it’s true about the pretty women, I might stay through Sunday.”

Written in stone

2009-10-30T11:52:16-04:00

At White Mountain Community College in Berlin, the stories were like grapes on the vine – ripe for picking. Thanks to many of my old friends, who I met while working on the Telling Our Stories Project in 2007-8, for coming out on a cold drizzly night.

Here’s a story of Yankee practicality and sense of mortality:

Mother was 94 when she died. Several years earlier, in 1999, she was in her rocking chair on a sunny afternoon. She announced, “I’m gong to die this year.”

“Mother! Why would you say that?”

“I have to, the 19 is already engraved on my stone.”

In fact, Mother lived until 2005. The 19 was smoothed away and the 20 put in its place. So Mother needn’t have worried.

Speaking of Yankee practicality ...

2009-10-29T08:00:00-04:00

Old Rufus was checking out. It was his time. His wife, Miriam, asked if there was anything she could get him to make his last days or hours on earth a little more pleasant.

“Miriam,” he said, “I crave tomato juice. If I could have a drink of tomato juice, that would be nice.”

Miriam hurried down to the general store. This was in wartime, so not everything was handy by and in stock the way it is now. She said to the storekeeper, “Clarence, do you have any tomato juice. Rufus is asking for tomato juice.”

“I do,” he said. “I’ve got one gallon left.”

“A gallon?” she asked.

“Yes, Miriam,” he said, “I can sell you this gallon jug.”

She thought it over. “Never mind,” she said. “He’s not going to last long enough to drink a gallon.”

Special delivery

2009-10-28T08:00:00-04:00

At the Promises To Keep conference center in Derry, I had a great time swapping stories with members of the seniors group from the First Congregational Church of Manchester, including Russ Gagnon and Dick Jarvis. And enjoyed a delicious roast pork lunch, too. Don’t remember who told this story, but it’s a classic:

Becky (not me) and Hiram lived at the end of the road in Weare. When Becky got ready to deliver her first child, Hiram ran to fetch Dr. Backus, and they got back in the nick of time. Naturally, this would happen during an ice storm, so the electricity was out. Dr. Backus was unruffled. He told Hiram to boil water, which Hiram did on the wood stove. He told Hiram to bring the oil lamp, which Hiram dutifully did.

Skipping to the good part, Dr. Backus said, “Hiram, look here. It’s a beautiful baby girl.”

Hiram leaned in closer with the oil lamp. Sure enough.

“Wait a minute,” Doc says. “Here comes another! It’s a boy.”

Hiram leaned in closer with the lamp. Sure enough. “Look, Becky, we got twins.”

Becky says, “AAAAARGH.”

Doc says, “Oh my gosh, it’s another baby girl.”

Hiram says, “I’m putting out the light.”

“Why?” Doc says.

“I think it’s attracting the little buggers.”