Wednesday, September 28, 2005


(Run originally 3/30/04 on our old site)

Ernie Simpson

(We recently wrote of having a friend driving behind us, checking our A model speedometer with his own, when my shotgun passenger threw the remains of his milk shake out the window .. and right onto the windshield of our chase car. My shaky memory said it was Ernie .. and he hereby confirms it. –tlp-)

Yep, my friend, I felt badly about the milk shake on whoever was following, since I loved Mr. Henry's famous Dairy Queen Cherry Milk Shake with added malt, and a sprinkle of nutmeg on top....yum, yum.

Anita's comments about the Poor Farm evokes the following from yours truly:

In the 1940's....from about 1946-1948, we lived on the left side of the road in a little white house across from what is now the White County Fairgrounds. South towards town, and on the east side of the road, was the "Poor Farm". As a child, I never knew what that was all about, except a lot of old folks sat in rockers on the porch that surrounded the building.

Somehow, mom and dad became acquainted with a little old gent called Uncle Tom .. Mason, Mitchell, Mose, or something. He was a quiet, dignified grandfather type, and we had him in our house often for meals. He walked to our house, and dad generally drove him back to the Home after dinner.

He loved to sit in our living room after dinner chatting with mom and dad, and during the conversation tapped his walking cane on the floor.

Between taps, he spun the cane between his thumb and middle finger. Tap, spin, tap, tap, spin. I guess he could do that for hours, because the whole time he sat, he was tapping and spinning.
Nobody ever said 'that gets on my nerves', and he visited with us until we moved out on Route 5, closer to Echo Dell.

This is a fragment of the story of "How to Get to Echo Dell From Crosby, in Eight Years.”


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