This story comes out of Brownfield, Maine. This young couple bought an old farmhouse decorated, the teller said, like it had been “done by committee,” complete with blue and red shag carpeting. The husband got talking with an old-timer down street. “So where you from?” the old timer said.
“Connecticut.”
“Where you living?”
“The old Perkins house. We’re fixing it up. My wife likes to decorate.”
“Tell you what you do,” the old timer said. “You take her out back and you shoot her.”
Meanwhile, at the New England Environmental Educators Association Meeting in Hancock last Friday, I learned what a clinker was. As you may know, one of my favorite expressions is “s--t a clinker.” Turns out, clinker is an old railroad term. When the coal gets low, the clinking starts and the fireman knows to refill. Clinkers are the dust and detritus from the coal that doesn’t burn and fuses together. You can find these pocked, stony objects along railroad tracks. Think of them as coal hairballs.
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