Saturday, September 10, 2005


(Run originally 3/18/04 on our old site)

Mary Kay VP James

The snapshot of Peggy, Marlene and Milly (3/16 “Trio”) ... was taken on a band outing at Petit Jean or some such place, where the stream was dammed at several levels by rocks that could be walked on. We were on a picnic, for some reason.

Peggy was bleaching a streak in the front of her hair with peroxide and lemon juice, I think. Remember when we did that in the summer, and sat in the sun for our hair to lighten?

Tom Pry

Well, I never did but, if that’s your thing ….

Thanks for the correction.

And you, reading this: what’s your excuse for not contributing your memories?

Now .. as a followup to my totally forgettable piece about my father’s privy answer to the Taj Mahal .. my mom forwarded this to me and, since this feels like the kind of a day that could use a little whimsy, I herewith unfold it for you, so latch the door and enjoy …


The service station trade was slow.
The owner sat around,
With sharpened knife and cedar stick.
Piled shavings on the ground.

No modern facilities had they,
The log across the rill
Led to a shack, marked His and Hers
That sat against the hill.

"Where is the ladies restroom, sir?"
The owner leaning back,
Said not a word but whittled on,
And nodded toward the shack.

With quickened step she entered there
but only stayed a minute,
Until she screamed,
just like a snake Or spider might be in it.

With startled look and beet red face
She bounded through the door,
And headed quickly for the car.
Just like three gals before.

She missed the foot log -- jumped the stream
The owner gave a shout,
As her silk stockings, down at her knees
Caught on a sassafras sprout.

She tripped and fell -- got up, and then
In obvious disgust,
Ran to the car, stepped on the gas,
And faded in the dust.

Of course we all desired to know
What made the gals all do
The things they did, and then we found
The whittling owner knew.

A speaking system he'd devised
To make the thing complete,
He tied a speaker on the wall
Beneath the toilet seat.

He'd wait until the gals got set
And then the devilish guy,
Would stop his whittling long enough,
To speak into the mike.

And as she sat, a voice below
Struck terror, fright and fear
"Will you please use the other hole,
We're painting under here!


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