Dancing at the Eagles? Music by Paul Moorhead?
You bet, and it was a grand night.
We had never danced at the Eagles or had we ever danced to music by Paul Moorhead, but any Nebraskan will recognize his music and remember the old Paxton Hotel days.
We were dancing up a storm when we were passed on the floor by Charlie Gude (that was before his appendectomy at St. Mary's) and Mr. and Mrs. Ed Harms. And when it came to the mixer, we whirled and swirled with so many gals and with my poor memory all I could remember were pretty faces, good dancing partners and they were from Auburn, Brock, Hamburg and Omaha, and of course, Nebraska City.
Well, it was a good night. We were visitors at the Eagles and we thanked Harley Bagley and John Jens and other Eagles for a pleasant evening.
One of the most interesting conversations we had concerned the age of Paul Moorhead . . . no one seemed to know other than "about 65 or 67." I dunno . . . he played his horn, bounced around on the stage, sang with relentless energy (alongside that slinky blonde) . . . and was the envy of every man over 30. The next time the Eagles advertise a dance with music by Mr. Moorhead, don't blow it . . . go!
The greatest shift on earth.
Ten years ago Bruce Larson of Larson's Supermarket, was named Thespian of the Year at Nebraska City Senior High. That means he was the No. 1 actor at the high school.
Well, I just gotta bring that up to date and please, don't send him any awards[illegible].
"Brrrring!"
"Larson's, Bruce speaking."
"Hi Bruce, this is Ivan."
"Ivan, who?"
"Ivan, you know, the guy across the street from you . . . the newspaper reporter . . . the one with 'eat more possum'?"
"Oh, yeah . . . whattya want?"
"Need a favor, ole' buddy-buddy . . . ever hear of Evel Knievel?"
"Sure," Bruce answered, "he's the hotshot with the flying bike (that's motorcycle to you four-wheelers)."
"That's right, Bruce ole buddy-buddy . . . and that's me on the local scene. You see I've got this here bike a-coming and no operator's license."
"Oh, you want to borrow my Honda 350cc?"
"You've got the picture now, tiger."
"OK. I'll run it to the store after lunch."
"So be it."
"Vrrooom . . . Vrooom . . . let's see, that's down for first gear and the others are up. Gotcha! Wanna see me pop a wheelie?"
"Take it easy," Bruce said, "bring it back in one piece."
Meanwhile, the state license examiner, Kenneth Mach is a very patient man. I blew one question on the written test, but he said I passed. The bike test was a snap, I found out. All I had to do was ride it and he would watch (I didn't think the state would permit its examiners riding around on the back of bikes).
I killed the motor, had a hard time getting it back in neutral before kicking it again and then buzzed off, careful to use the blinkers. Everything was okay.
Officer Mach said, "you passed." He instructed me to take my driver's license to the county treasurer's office to get the proper "A" marked on it and into the record.
Meanwhile, back in the alley behind Larson's . . .
"Vrooom . . . vrrrooom . . . putt-putt-putt . . . Heya, Bruce, no sweat. Everything fine, no spills, no spins and no grinding gears. Thanks so much for the use of the 350. That's a mighty nice bike."
"Heya, Evel," Bruce called, "just when are you gonna get your bike?"
"Oh, anytime now . . . American boy have red, white and blue helmet and Kawasaki (pronounced Ka-Wa-Sock-ee) will putt-putt soon."
"You handled the 350 pretty good," Bruce observed. "Are you going to be operating some pretty hot stuff?"
"Ohhhhhh . . . American boy with red, white and blue helmet will teach No. 1 son proper operation of Kawasaki which also is down to first and then upshifts."
"You mean it's a 350 or bigger?" Bruce asked.
"Ohhhh, so sorry if I didn't tell you before . . . Kawasaki is only 90cc."
(Eat your heart out, Tim Hall).
Arbor Day in Washington, D.C.
Mary Ulbrick returned from attending an Arbor Day tree planting ceremony in Washington, D.C. "that was really something."
Mrs. Ulbrick, Arbor Day Queen Cheryl Burkhart, and a delegation of boosters planted a tree in the capital with the help of Agriculture Secretary Earl Butz and Rep. Charles Thone of Nebraska.
Mary said she thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it . . . that is, except for some anxious moments . . .
Mary was using a pay telephone at the airport in the capital when a thief with expertise took her for $300. Mrs. Ulbrick said she had her purse on her arm, and even without her noticing anything, the thief opened the purse and took her billfold.
That billfold contained about $300 plus Mary's driver's license, traveler's checks and a number of credit cards.
But leave it to Mary . . . she just bubbled all over the capital having a whale of a big time and seeing all the sights just as though someone had given her $300 to shoot.
"Bub" Conley ran across this written in 1960 by the late J. H. Sweet of the News-Press.
This fellow was 44 years old and was called the salt of the earth. He was never late for work, brushed his teeth after each meal, had good manners and habits, never drank or smoked.
He promptly paid his bills, didn't swear, never cheated on his wife, wouldn't think of making a bet, voted regularly, went to bed early, always bought Girl Scout cookies, Easter Seals, attended PTA meetings with his wife, never forgot her birthday, Valentine's Day or their anniversary.
Death came to him just as he turned 45.
His insurance policy, paid up naturally, went in for a claim.
The insurance company refused to pay.
Why? demanded the widow's attorney.
Well, exclaimed the insurance agent . . . "we know the guy died, but we can't believe that he ever lived."