Travels With Becky

Lincoln, peas, and other stories

Ran into Scott Bartlett at an event last week.  He’s the one who told me a couple of Fred Lee stories a year or so ago.  You know, the one about Fred working on the Kancamagus Highway, when an out-a-stater drives up next to him and hollers out the window:  “Where’s Lincoln?”  To which Fred replies:  “Far’s I know, he died 150 years ago.” 

Fred was a Yankee wit of renown.  (Renown, I just realized is hard to spell.  Tried “renoun” and “reknown.”  Didn’t look right.  Neither does “renown” for that matter, but I guess that’s it.)  

Scott reminded me that Fred was originally from North Woodstock. It’s important to get these details straight.  Sometimes I mix things up, like claiming Fred was from Lincoln.  Which he wasn’t.

We got to talking about different sayings and so forth.  Scott said one of his favorites is “I’ll give an honest day’s work even if it takes all week.”  Which reminded me of a little story.  A boy goes to a local hardware store looking for a part time job.  The owner says, “Sorry, son, but there’s not enough work in the store to keep another person busy.”

The boy says:  “That’s ok.  It don’t take much to keep me busy.”

Mary in Gilmanton told me this story.  She said Mrs. Jones owned a dairy farm up the road and the six little neighbor kids (I think Mary might have been one of them) walked up to the farm to see some newborn kittens.  Five of the kids walked back home, but one stayed to help Mrs. Jones shuck peas.

Mother, of course, noticed the missing child.  “Where’s Caleb?” she asked.

“Oh,” said a sister, “he’s up peeing with Mrs. Jones."

A Stucky Situation

True story from down Durham way. This one is a candidate for my book-to-someday-be: “The Chronicles of Nimrod.”

Fella was building a house out in a field, but the ground was soft and his pickup got stuck. Called his buddy who had a Jeep. Chained the pickup to the Jeep but the Jeep got stuck. Called a wrecker, but halfway out in the field the wrecker sunk to its rocker panels in the mud. Wrecker stuck.

Finally, Harold from the garage in town showed up with his own wrecker. He parked on the tar road. Run a long cable out to the disabled vehicles and dragged them to dry ground one by one.

At the end of that debacle, the only one laughing was Harold.

A cheesy blog post

I’m right out straight promoting my new (and first) picture book, “The Iciest Diciest Scariest Sled Ride Ever!”  Launched it at the NH Farm Museum.  Wouldn’t you know, we had 150 people show up -- many of them kids.  Jennifer Thermes, the illustrator, was there. Also cookies, cocoa, and the Uncle Sam, the biggest double runner sled in the world.  It’s in the Guinness Book of World Records.

My mind is on the little ones.  My friend Dana told me this story about her daughter, the Inimitable Cassie.  After the last storm, Cassie’s friend’s dad said he was headed out in the yard to pick up some debris.  Cassie’s friend said, “What’s debris?”

The Inimitable Cassie quipped:  “It’s a French cheese.”

Really, Governor Adams, You Should Have Known Better

I love telling stories of New Hampshire characters that prompt people to recall their own encounters with these characters. Of course, Sherman Adams (governor, chief of staff to Eisenhower, founder of Loon Mountain) was a well known and beloved figure. 

Two stories, I’m happy to report, have been recently added to the Sherman Adams collection:

A close friend of one of Adams’ three daughters recalled that on one occasion he instructed his wife to stay to home. And locked the garage to be sure.  What he didn’t count on (and this is a puzzlement) was Rachel’s determination.  She drove the car right out through the garage door  and went happily on her way.  Bet Sherm didn’t try that trick again.

In another story a man tells of boarding a chair lift at Loon and beside him is an octogenarian who looks familiar.  “Are you Sherman Adams?” he asks.  And the fellow replies:  “What’s left of him.”