Travels With Becky

Shot shots

At the Sanbornton Library, local institution and generally cool guy Ken Randall passed on several stories of historical interest. Ken, for many years, taught school and on his weekends and summers off, kept the books for the hotel at the top of Mount Washington.

He recalled being in the ticket office at the base of the big mountain one long ago September when four young women wearing high heels and short shorts (or as we say shot shots) announced their plan to climb the Ammonoosuc Trail. As most New Hampshire folks and hikers know, the difference in temperature and weather conditions between the bottom of Mount Washington and the top can be dramatic. Ken didn't think the young women were dressed or equipped for the wintery weather they'd find at the top. But they were determined.

Finally, he said, (straight faced, for he is blessed with the ability to keep a straight face under all circumstances): "Do me a favor, and if you start getting sleepy, just lie down beside the trail and go to sleep, with your arms and legs crossed."

"Why?" the young women asked.

"If you get sleepy, that's a sign of hypothermia, so when you go to sleep it'll be the Big Sleep. If you've got your arms and legs crossed, that'll make it easier to wrap your bodies up and haul them off the mountain in a gurney."

The young women decided to forego the climb.

Good Afternoon, Mr. President

When folks got the news that the President was coming to town, they went all out. They decorated the gazebo with red, white and blue; displayed every flag they could lay their hands on in the square; and gathered -- one and just-about all -- for the big moment.

And when Air Force One flew overhead, they waved.

A Case of Mistaken Identity

Jimmy Cannon was known to drink heavily, which one Christmas Eve he did. He drank so heavily, he couldn't make it home from the bar, so as he walked past the creche on the town square, he decided to have a little nap. He crawled into the hay and went to sleep.

Next morning, the town constable roused him: "Jesus Christ!" the constable shouted.

"No-no-no-no," said Jimmy, "Jimmy Cannon!"

Needless to Say

Ken Randall told this true Sanbornton story of a local character name of Windy Wilson. Windy liked to talk. One day, Ken, passing on the road, spotted Windy and his father on the porch roof shingling. Windy, upon spotting Ken, climbed down the ladder and entered into conversation, talking as usual, a mile a minute.

After some time, Windy's father climbed down the ladder. He said to Ken of Windy:

"Do you need him for help?"

"No."

"Do you need him for advice?"

"No."

"Do you need him for consultation?"

"No?"

"Do you need him for anything at all?"

"No."

Father Wilson then turned to Windy: "Then godammit, Windy, get back on the roof."

Sometimes a Person Can Use All the Help She Can Get

Donna told this story. When her brother's wife was pregnant with a second child, Alan, four years old, was very curious about the whole process.  One day, when Mother's belly was pretty big, he asked her how she was going to get the baby out of there.

She explained that the doctor was going to help her.

Alan was amazed:  “You got a doctor in there, too!”

Or on the rocks?

A town meeting story from New Castle:

The building of a sewer system in town was a contentious issue.  It was going to be darned expensive.  But not building it was going to be even more expensive:  The state threatened a fine of $1000 a week until a good set of plans had been developed and the project set in motion.

The legislative body realized this project must be undertaken, but they weren’t happy about it.  George Pitts summed up the frustration many felt:  “I told you it was a mistake to put in town water!”

His neighbor said, “George, don’t you drink your bourbon with water?”

George said, “You know darned well I drink it neat."

The best-laid plans

A true story:

An old mill on the river looked, to the rich man from New York, like it would make a great house, renovated of course.  At a cocktail party, he mentioned the project to a friend who was a professor.  The professor said his architectural students were available to design houses for free, as part of their course work.  

The rich man jumped at the chance!  One of the students redesigned the old mill as a home and the rich man was delighted with the design.  A local contractor took on the job of taking down much of the old mill and rebuilding it.  The rich man went back to New York.

Months later, he returned to the site to see what had been accomplished.  He became irate.  “That house doesn’t look anything like the design in the plans I gave you.”

The Yankee builder says:  “I know.  I didn’t like those plans.”

The cat came back...

A Yankee trader story: sounds apocryphal, but I’d never heard it before.

The fella from away stops in the general store and sees a cat drinking milk out of a Dresden bowl.  He says to the storekeeper:  “That your cat?”

“Ayuh, but I’m trying to sell it.”

Fella from away says:  “I’ll give you $5.00 for it.”

Storekeeper shakes his hand on the $5.00.

Fella says, “I imagine you want to throw in that old bowl, since the cat is used to it.”  

“Oh no,” says the storekeeper, “that bowl has sold me six cats already.”

A most delicate question

At a town meeting in a kind of a rich, hoity-toity town (we have a few), discussion turned to the building of a new fire station.  The fire chief made his pitch. Questions followed. 

One prim and proper lady, whose property lay nearby the proposed site of the proposed fire station, asked a delicate question.  There didn’t seem to be a bathroom in the plans for the building. What, ahem, would the fire fighters do for toilet facilities?

The chief replied they’d do same as they’d done at the old fire station:  Piss out the back door.

The vote for the new fire station was in the negative by a margin of about a hundred to one.

Defibrillate this!

Deb Schulte, New Castle town historian, passed on this true town meeting story.  The town had put in a request for a defibrillator for the EMTs.  Discussion included questions about the EMTs' qualifications to run the defibrillator and, of course, cost.  Seemed kinda pricey to a lot of folks.

An older gentleman named Bill explained that he had a modest home. Would the selectman tell him how much the defibrillator would cost him in property taxes in the coming year?

Selectman said:  “On your house, Bill, it’d be about $20.”

Bill said, “My wife’s worth $20.”

The article slid right through.



The welcoming committee at the New Castle Historical Society.


I wonder if the "neighbors" were listening.