Danny's Doting(s)

I was just watching clips from 'A Christmas Story' on Youtube and watching the boy's Mom stuff Randy into all his winter clothes sent me into a state of happy, fond reminisce.  When winter would inevitably roll around when I was a little fella, Dad would mount the Super Six loader with its big snow bucket on our Massey-Harris 44. He made big piles of snow with it that seemed like white mountains to a little kid who could hardly stand up in all his getup much less climb.  When it was time to go outside to play, Dad would cram me into all of my winter clothes like stuffing a wiener back into its skin. By the time I had been jammed into everything textile-wise that was in the house, he pretty near had to stand me upside down to shove my boots on. With six pairs of socks on, I could nearly fit into his boots. If I fell down (and I did - a fair bit) it was a monumental struggle to get vertical again. With a big scarf wrapped around my neck and my four shirts buttoned up to the ...

"The Customer is always right".  Who ever came up with that line? It is the absolute bane of retail! I tell ya: A parts guy's self esteem will never get out of control on him. The public sees to that in a very effective and efficient manner.  Case in point: Today's phone call of Standout Merit.  "Import Tractor Parts" "Hello, this is ***** *****" "Hi. How are you today?" "Alright I guess". *grumbly voice* "I got the parts on Thursday you sent me. You sent me the wrong parts".  Here we go; you order them yourself off the website, but I sent you the wrong parts. Yep, got it.  "Ok, let's see here.... you ordered a fuel filter glass bowl and primary and secondary fuel filter for a 1250/411R. What's your tractor?" You always have to start there. The rest will eventually reveal itself from that point. Sometimes right away. "A 1255". There it is: right away. "Those parts are completely wrong f...

  Queen's Line small farm times were wonderful, wonderful times. I miss them with a never-ending ache within me. I already missed them 15 years ago. There was a community spirit in that time gone by that cannot be even mimicked today. As those Gentleman Farmers were all gradually called Home, our way of life slowly but surely changed, and not at all for the better. Neighbours helping neighbours was a given, not an exception. If I could turn the clock back to those halcyon days of my youth and vigor, and wonderment of discovery, filled with so many shining role models, I would, and in a heartbeat. I miss the sound of cows bawling on every farm, gas tractors, square balers lunging, and neighbour farmers yelling "WHOA!!!" at the top of their lungs when the baler ran out of twine, or the knotter stopped tying, or a string broke. When a cloud lazily drifted overhead from the West on a hot summer's hay day, you knew the farmers up the road had been treated to its cool, refr...

  When I wrote about Mike not knowing when to quit, I didn't certainly didn't intend anyone to think I emerged from years of all out three wheeler riding completely unscathed. Nothing could be further from the truth. I had my moments, too. A particular incident in that regard comes painfully to mind. While Mike got messed up the third or fourth or fifth time around, I only took one try to wreck myself. While I said three wheelers were inherently safe, they were also unforgiving little sods. You had to treat them with respect, or nurses would be treating you with antiseptic in the hospital. Putting your foot down in an argument is one thing, and every Scotsman I've ever known lays claim to that sovereign right. Putting your foot down on a three wheeler meant you got your heel ripped off. Maybe your lower leg. You just didn't do it. One thing those trikes could do was climb hills. Man, could they ever. Mike and I found, early on, that we could conquer almost any hill wit...

 August 29, 2020 I just woke up from a dream. Darn glad none of it was true, either. Sharon and I won a trip to the White House. When Obama was President. We were escorted into a large conference room, where several other couples from other nations were gathered. They must have had a draw in their country too. They were having an uproarious time together even though nobody understood a word anyone else was saying. Except their spouse, that is. It seemed to be a good trip to bring couples closer together. They burst into a bout of extra-hearty laughter, and I gathered it was at the expense of one poor fellow who had done something somehow culturally off, and all the wives were laughing at him, while all the other husbands were laughing because it was him and not them. Now we were ushered to a large table, and I found myself seated next to, none other than the POTUS himself. He was elaborating something to the assembly and gesticulating somewhat with his hands. As he orated in discou...