Mornin' Mail

The Mornin' Mail is published every weekday except major holidays
Wednesday, December 23, 2009 Volume XVIII, Number 130

Did Ya Know?... The VFW Men’s Auxiliary has canceled the turkey shoot Sunday.

Did Ya Know?... The Recycling Center will be open for operation from 8:30 a.m.-4:30 p.m. on Monday, December 28, 2009. Normal days are Tue. - Sat.

today's laugh

Dear Ma and Pa:

I am well. Hope you are too. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer that the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled.

I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m., but I am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay... practically nothing. Men got to shave but it’s not so bad... there’s warm water. Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc., but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie, and other regular food, but tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food plus yours holds you ‘til noon when you get fed again. It’s no wonder these city boys can’t walk much.

We go on "route marches," which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it’s not my place to tell him different. A "route march" is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks.

This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don’t know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don’t move, and it ain’t shooting at you like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don’t even load your own cartridges. They come in boxes.

Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain’t like fighting with that ole bull at home. I’m about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake. I only beat him once. He joined up the same time as me, but I’m only 5’6" and 130 pounds and he’s 6’8" and near 300 pounds dry.

Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join up before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding on in.

Your loving daughter,

Alice

1909
INTERESTING MELANGE.
A Chronological Record of Events as they have Transpired in the City and County since our last Issue.

Unable to secure Employment.

A broad shouldered man, in good flesh, with rosy cheeks, a comfortable suit of clothers, fur cap and brand new boots, is working the citizens of Carthage for the price of a meal, the meal itself he politely declines.

He says that he is unable to procure work, as the authorities only allow him to remain in one place a couple of days.

A prominent physician yesterday directed him to the Charity Union, but the fellow replied that he had one experience with a similar organization and had worked two hours on a rock pile, and in return had received a ten cent meal. He hails from Oronogo last.

Mrs. Briol returned from Pierce City, last night, where she has been for the past month instructing a large class in water color painting.

Today's Feature

A Christmas Poem

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,

I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.

My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,

My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,

Transforming the yard to a winter delight.

The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,

Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,

Secure and surrounded by love, I would sleep,

In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,

So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t too near,

But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.

Perhaps just a cough, I didn’t quite know,

Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,

And I crept to the door just to see who was near.

Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,

A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,

Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.

Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,

Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,

"Come in this moment, it’s freezing out here!

Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,

You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,

Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts,

To the window that danced with a warm fire’s light.

Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,

I’m out here by choice. I’m here every night."

"It’s my duty to stand at the front of the line,

That separates you from the darkest of times.

No one had to ask or beg or implore,

I’m proud to stand here like my fathers before..

My Gramps died at Pearl on a day in December."

Then he sighed, "That’s a Christmas Gram always remembers."

"My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ‘ Nam ‘,

And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

I’ve not seen my own son in more than a while,

But my wife sends me pictures, he’s sure got her smile."

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,

The red, white, and blue... an American flag.

"I can live through the cold and the being alone,

Away from my family, my house and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,

I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.

I can carry the weight of killing another,

Or lay down my life for my sister or brother,

Who stand at the front against any and all,

To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."

"So go back inside," he said, "Harbor no fright,

Your family is waiting and I’ll be all right."

"But isn’t there something I can do, at the least?

Give you money," I asked, "Or prepare you a feast?

It seems all too little for all that you’ve done,

For being away from your wife and your son."

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,

"Just tell us you love us, and never forget

To fight for our rights back at home while we’re gone,

To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

For when we come home, either standing or dead,

To know you remember we fought and we bled

Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,

That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."

LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN

30th Naval Construction Regiment

OIC, Logistics Cell One

Al Taqqadum, Iraq

Just Jake Talkin'
Mornin',

"Other than that, everything’s goin’ pretty well?," was my dad’s common comment after listenin’ to tales of woe and worry from customers of his small sundries store. I guess he wanted folks to leave his establishment feelin’ a little better than when they came in. It was in his nature.

‘Course it was in my older brother’s and my nature to try to keep from laughin’ from time to time, hidden behind the counter. We’d exchange glances as we listened to the stories of divorce, illness, crop failure, and other personal catastrophes, waitin’ for the last shoe to drop. When Dad’s anticipated punch line was thrown, sometimes we had to be on the way out the door to keep from embarrassin’ the customer, thinkin’ we were makin’ light of their problems. ‘Course it always coulda been worse.

This is some fact, but mostly,

Just Jake Talkin’.