Many of the folks around here have been working with Nebraska City businesses to bring the Homemakers School to town again.
The program will be February 12 at 1:30 p.m. at the Pioneer Theater.
One caller wanted to know if she needed a reservation. No, but we suggest coming early to assure yourself of a good seat. (Last year about 700 people attended.)
Another caller wanted to know about buying an advance ticket. Well, mercy, no. It's all free and there are lots of gifts on top of the free show, compliments of the News-Press and many businesses.
Rick Baldwin, our advertising manager, will be the master of ceremonies, but he says the real work on the stage will be by two graduate home economists, Denise Ulrich and Joyce Sierfering. Also helping Rick with the organization of the program are his sales staff, Susan Whitmarsh and Dee Driever, the newest member of the ad department.
There are five other helpers you'll see at the Pioneer. They are members of the Women's Fellowship of the Bethel United Church of Christ.
They are Mrs. Merl (Victoria) Leeper, Mrs. James (Sharon) Moyer, Mrs. Larry (Janice) Rains, Mrs. James (Sharon) Herzog and Mrs. Melvin (Evelyn) Giittinger.
Congratulations
To — Mr. and Mrs. Carl Giittinger on their 58th wedding anniversary. Mrs. Giittinger is a resident of Duff Memorial Nursing home.
Have you seen these before?
O.S.H.A. — Occupational Safety and Health Administration.
E.P.A. — Environmental Protection Agency.
S.P.C.C. — Spill Prevention Control and Countermeasure.
N.S.F.M. — Nebraska State Fire Marshal.
N.F.P.A. — National Fire Protection Agency.
T.G.I.F. — (a favorite at school) Thank Goodness It's Friday.
The winter concert.
We failed to mention one interesting feature about the Bicentennial band music at the winter concert the other night.
The song was made up of eight pieces and Director Gary DeBolt made a point to musically explain the different sections. That was good because it helped the audience follow the program.
What we forgot to mention was the length of the song — 20 minutes, according to Aldean Grundman, president of the Music Boosters.
That's a whole lot of music and hard work by the youngsters in the band. The audience responded with applause, which is still the best pay yet on stage.
Wedding bells.
"How's it going, Bill?" I asked the man at Dawson Oil and Transport.
"Just fine, keeping busy," he said.
"How many do you have in college now?" I asked.
"Two."
"Wow, that must be sumpthin'."
"Yup," Bill said, "and it'll cost more soon. Becci's getting married."
"Oh oh . . . ole' dad is going to shell out for that."
"Yes . . . heh . . . heh . . . but it shouldn't be too expensive," saith the man with-no-experience.
"Hold on thar hoss," I stopped him. "What's this stuff about low cost weddings?"
"Well . . . it's just not going to be expensive."
"I don't want to pry ole' Billy-Boy but have you got any idea of what is meant by A LOW COST WEDDING?" I challenged.
"Well ummmmmuh . . . not really."
"Ah hah! Just as I thought. Admit it, silver-haired-daddy, you don't know from nuthin' about weddings."
Well, in his usual friendly way, Bill admitted that he really didn't know what the cost would be but knowing HIS daughter, he wasn't too concerned.
I didn't want to laugh and hurt his feelings. He's really a pretty good guy, but when it comes to weddings . . . he's just got to consult the pro.
"Now listen, friend Bill. There's a cute little girl at the University who probably called upon you to repair her dollies and other toys and now she's grown and she is calling on you to do just . . . one more thing.
"You understand, friend Bill," I assured, "I'm not trying to talk you into anything . . . but remember that miserable hot summer when that little cutie pumped gas and diesel fuel at Dawson Oil? . . . Huh? . . . Huh? Huh?"
"You're on the wrong track," he snorted. (I could tell he was about to become honest because grandmother was in the other room and she perked as the conversation peaked.)
"I told Becci if she'd let her mother help more with the plans we'd take care of things."
"Oh . . . just like that the ole' dictator bends a little now, huh?" I said.
"No, not anything like that. I just don't think it will be costly."
Woe is Bill.
"Would you like some advice from an expert?" I asked.
"No, not really," he said.
"Well, I'll give it to you anyway. You'll appreciate it later. Besides it's the same advice I gave Bill Carroll and he lived through it."
"Okay, I'll listen . . . but I think you ought to put those two tires on the front of your Ranchero." (Once a salesman, always a salesman.)
"Well, Bill, ole' friend, there will be times of frustration, times of worry, and a grand time of satisfaction. And, when you see your little girl try on the wedding dress at a fitting, you'll get a lump in your throat that'll choke you for the next several weeks.
"When that little cutie comes up to you and says, 'D-a-d-d-y' . . . she will be asking for something for that special day that has more meaning than all of your Firestone and General tires combined."
"I guess I know that," he admitted. "It's just . . . different."
"Sure it is . . . and all fathers are alike . . . we're all suckers for those little girls. They've been known to melt some mighty tough fathers.
"Well, gotta go. Good luck to you, dad, in the coming weeks."
"Thanks, Ivan . . . Hey! Hey! Come back! You never did tell me how it's going to cost!"