The Mornin' Mail is published every weekday except major holidays
Tuesday, October 9, 2007 Volume XVI, Number 80

did ya know?

Did Ya Know?... October 9th: Friends and Family CPR 5:30 p.m. in the hospital conference room. This FREE class teaches you the basics of CPR. Anyone who doesn’t need certification, including care-givers, babysitters, parents, or those who have a loved one with medical problems should take this class. Call to make a reservation at 417-359-2452 or 417-359-2432.

Did Ya Know?... The Carthage Veterans’ Alliance will meet October 11th in the Legion Rooms of the Memorial Hall at 7:00 p.m. to plan the annual Veterans’ Day Program. All of the organizations and the members of the Community Band are invited to attend.

Did Ya Know?.. Pleasant Valley PTO is hosting the 2nd Annual Chili Feed and first ever Chili Cook-Off October 13th from 5-7 p.m. All you can eat dinner includes hot dogs, frito pie, drink and dessert for $6.00 (adults), $3.00 (kids) and kids under 3 eat free. To-go orders just $3.00. Cook-off pre-registration deadline Oct 13, $4.00. Forms can be picked up at Pleasant Valley Elementary or YMCA bulletin board. Judges: Allan Mattthews from KODE and Food Columnist Cheryle Finley. For more info call 359-5126.

today's laugh

To write a hit song; take an old composition and decompose it.

Some people can carry a tune, but seem to stagger under the load.

If you want to live a long time, become a centenarian

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

Worked Him For A Cigar.

A young traveling man who sells cigars thinks he discovered the acme of gall the other day. The traveling man had displayed his cigars at his hotel and made a sale when suddenly the man of gall said hastily, "Let me see those cigars." The traveling man, thinking he was about to make a sale to a merchant, promptly produced his cigars. The fellow dipped into the ten cent box and proceeded to strike a match. "Do you handle cigars?" inquired the salesman. The nervy man made no reply, but coolly lit the cigar and took a long puff, then asked absent mindedly, "What did you say?" "I asked if you handled cigars," replied the salesman impatiently. "Oh, no," said the cheeky individual, "but I sometimes smoke a good one," and with that he walked away. The young fellow proved to be a clerk from Mt. Vernon out for a few days’ recreation, and the traveling man was so dazed he neglected to even give the fellow a cussin’.


Today's Feature

Council To Discuss Settlement.

The Carthage City Council will meet this evening at 7:30 p.m. in the Council Chambers of City Hall. Items on the agenda include the first reading of an ordinance approving the settlement agreement with Verizon wireless and assigning a percentage of the settlement proceeds to the Missouri Municipal League.

This ordinance would settle a lawsuit between Carthage and Verizon wireless concerning the collection of municipal taxes. If approved the City would collect back taxes since September 1, 2005 through August 1, 2007; amounting to $31,408.52. Tax collection would also continue under the jurisdiction. The City ordinance would assign 5% of the money collected to the Missouri Municipal league for their assistance to the City in the resolution of the lawsuit.

Other items on the agenda include the first reading of an ordinance authorizing a contract between the City and Kaatz & Associates for the purpose of conducting a comprehensive compensation and classification study. This study was approved during the budget process this fiscal year as a method of bringing the City’s payscale up to a more competitive level with regional cities.

Just Jake Talkin'
It was as if the rest of the world had just stopped for a day. ‘Bout 2 o’clock I finally accepted the fact that the mail wasn’t gonna come.

The one good thing ‘bout holidays like Columbus Day is that they remind us that the world does not revolve around our own schedule. It’s a humbling experience to prepare for the daily routine of makin’ it to the bank, or stoppin’ by the Courthouse, just ta realize that on that particular day, none of it’s gonna happen. It’s especially humbling if you realize what day it is, then later forget and have to be reminded.

There was a brief glimpse of hope, that somehow Columbus Day could be used as a "catch up" day. But that idea was soon left in the pile of outgoin’ mail that would still be a day late to its destination.

This is some fact, but mostly,

Just Jake Talkin’.

Mornin' Mail

To Your Good Health
By Paul G. Donohue, M.D.

Some New Thoughts on Constipation

DEAR DR. DONOHUE: I have a problem with chronic constipation. I drink approximately six to eight glasses of iced tea every day. Could the tannin in tea contribute to my constipation? I don’t particularly enjoy plain water, so I drink tea for my fluid intake. -- M.C.

ANSWER: Tea isn’t constipating you, and you can use it for your fluid intake.

Constipation is having fewer than three stools a week or having stools that are hard and difficult to pass without straining.

Some new thoughts on constipation and laxatives fly in the face of what we’ve been taught. One is that an increased amount of fluid is necessary for regularity. That advice has never been proved. People should drink enough fluid to keep themselves hydrated, and thirst can be their guide in most cases -- perhaps not for the very old. The intestinal tract regulates how much fluid gets into it.

Fiber works as a constipation cure for some, but not all. Twenty-five to 30 grams (30 grams is 1 ounce) is recommended daily. Fiber is indigestible material in foods. Fruits, vegetables and whole grains have the most. Bran, available in health-food stores, is another good fiber source if you can’t get enough in food.

We learned that most laxatives should be used sparingly in order not to develop a "laxative habit." This is another piece of advice that has been challenged. Many authorities now say it’s a myth, that the colon doesn’t become dependent on laxatives.


More Letters from
a Self-Made
to His Son

by George Horace Lorimer

First Published 1903

From John Graham, head of the house of Graham & Company, pork packers, in Chicago, familiarly known on ‘Change as Old Gorgon Graham, to his son, Pierrepont, at the Union Stock Yards.

No. 2

From John Graham, at the Schweitzerkasenhof, Carlsbad, to his son, Pierrepont, at the Union Stock Yards, Chicago. The head of the lard department has died suddenly, and Pierrepont has suggested to the old man that there is a silver lining to that cloud of sorrow.


CARLSBAD, October 20, 189-.

Dear Pierrepont: I’ve cabled the house that you will manage the lard department, or try to, until I get back; but beyond that I can’t see. Four weeks doesn’t give you much time to prove that you are the best man in the shop for the place, but it gives you enough to prove that you ain’t. You’ve got plenty of rope. If you know how to use it you can throw your steer and brand it; if you don’t, I suppose I won’t find much more than a grease-spot where the lard department was, when I get back to the office. I’m hopeful, but I’m a good deal like the old deacon back in Missouri who thought that games of chance were sinful, and so only bet on sure things--and I’m not betting.

Naturally, when a young fellow steps up into a big position, it breeds jealousy among those whom he’s left behind and uneasiness among those to whom he’s pulled himself up. Between them he’s likely to be subjected to a lot of petty annoyances. But he’s in the fix of a dog with fleas who’s chasing a rabbit--if he stops to snap at the tickling on his tail, he’s going to lose his game dinner.

Even as temporary head of the lard department you’re something of a pup, and where there’s dog there’s fleas. You’ve simply got to get used to them, and have sense enough to know that they’re not eating you up when they’re only nibbling a little at your hide. And you don’t want to let any one see that a flea-bite can worry you, either. A pup that’s squirming and wriggling and nosing around the seat of the trouble whenever one of his little friends gets busy, is kicked out into the cold, sad night in the end. But a wise dog lies before the fire with a droop in his ear and a dreamy look in his eyes until it gets to the point where he can’t stand ‘em any longer. Then he sneaks off under the dining-room table and rolls them out into the carpet.

There are two breeds of little things in business--those that you can’t afford to miss and those that you can’t afford to notice. The first are the details of your own work and those of the men under you. The second are the little tricks and traps that the envious set around you. A trick is always so low that a high-stepper can walk right over it.

When a fellow comes from the outside to an important position with a house he generally gets a breathing-space while the old men spar around taking his measure and seeing if he sizes up to his job. They give him the benefit of the doubt, and if he shows up strong and shifty on his feet they’re apt to let him alone. But there isn’t any doubt in your case; everybody’s got you sized up, or thinks he has, and those who’ve been over you will find it hard to accept you as an equal, and those who’ve been your equals will be slow to regard you as a superior. When you’ve been Bill to a man, it comes awkward for him to call you mister. He may do it to your face, but you’re always Bill again when you’ve turned the corner.

Of course, everybody’s going to say you’re an accident. Prove it. Show that you’re a regular head-on collision when anything gets in your way. They’re going to say that you’ve got a pull. Prove it--by taking up all the slack that they give you. Back away from controversy, but stand up stubborn as a mule to the fellow who’s hunting trouble. I believe in ruling by love, all right, but it’s been my experience that there are a lot of people in the world whom you’ve got to make understand that you’re ready to heave a brick if they don’t come when you call them. These men mistake kindness for weakness and courtesy for cowardice. Of course, it’s the exception when a fellow of this breed can really hurt you, but the exception is the thing that you always want to keep your eye skinned for in business. When it’s good growing weather and the average of the crop is ninety-five, you should remember that old Satan may be down in Arizona cooking up a sizzler for the cornbelt; or that off Cuba-ways, where things get excited easy, something special in the line of tornadoes may be ghost-dancing and making ready to come North to bust you into bits, if it catches you too far away from the cyclone cellar. When a boy’s face shines with soap, look behind his ears.

Up to this point you’ve been seeing business from the seat of the man who takes orders; now you’re going to find out what sort of a snap the fellow who gives them has. You’re not even exchanging one set of worries for another, because a good boss has to carry all his own and to share those of his men. He must see without spying; he must hear without sneaking; he must know without asking. It takes a pretty good guesser to be a boss.

The first banana-skin which a lot of fellows step on when they’re put over other men is a desire to be too popular. Of course, it’s a nice thing to have everyone stand up and cheer when your name is mentioned, but it’s mighty seldom that that happens to any one till he’s dead. You can buy a certain sort of popularity anywhere with soft soap and favors; but you can’t buy respect with anything but justice, and that’s the only popularity worth having.

You’ll find that this world is so small, and that most men in it think they’re so big, that you can’t step out in any direction without treading on somebody’s corns, but unless you keep moving, the fellow who’s in a hurry to get somewhere is going to fetch up on your bunion. Some men are going to dislike you because you’re smooth, and others because you have a brutal way of telling the truth. You’re going to repel some because they think you’re cold, and others will cross the street when they see you coming because they think you slop over. One fellow won’t like you because you’ve got curly hair, and another will size you up as a stiff because you’re bald. Whatever line of conduct you adopt you’re bound to make some enemies, but so long as there’s a choice I want you to make yours by being straightforward and just. You’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that every enemy you make by doing the square thing is a rascal at heart. Don’t fear too much the enemy you make by saying No, nor trust too much the friend you make by saying Yes.

Speaking of being popular naturally calls to mind the case of a fellow from the North named Binder, who moved to our town when I was a boy, and allowed that he was going into the undertaking business. Absalom Magoffin, who had had all the post-mortem trade of the town for forty years, was a queer old cuss, and he had some mighty aggravating ways. Never wanted to talk anything but business. Would buttonhole you on the street, and allow that, while he wasn’t a doctor, he had had to cover up a good many of the doctor’s mistakes in his time, and he didn’t just like your symptoms. Said your looks reminded him of Bill Shorter, who’ went off sudden in the fifties, and was buried by the Masons with a brass band. Asked if you remembered Bill, and that peculiar pasty look about his skin. Naturally, this sort of thing didn’t make Ab any too popular, and so Binder got a pretty warm welcome when he struck town.

He started right out by saying that he didn’t see any good reason why an undertaker should act as if he was the next of kin. Was always stopping people on the streets to tell them the latest, and yelling out the point in a horse-laugh. Everybody allowed that jolly old Binder had the right idea; and that Magoffin might as well shut up shop. Every one in town wanted to see him officiate at a funeral, and there was a lot of talk about encouraging new enterprises, but it didn’t come to anything. No one appeared to have any public spirit.

Seemed as if we’d never had a healthier spring than that one. The most unpopular man in town, Miser Dosher, came down with pneumonia in December, and every one went around saying how sad it was that there was no hope, and watching for Binder to start for the house. But in the end Dosher rallied and "went back on the town," as Si Perkins put it. Then the Hoskins-Bustard crowds took a crack at each other one court day, but it was mighty poor shooting. Ham Hoskins did get a few buckshot in his leg, and that had to come off, but there were no complications.

By this time Binder, though he still laughed and cracked his jokes, was beginning to get sort of discouraged. But Si Perkins used to go round and cheer him up by telling him that it was bound to come his way in the end, and that when it did come it would come with a rush.

Then, all of a sudden, something happened--yellow jack dropped in from down New Orleans way, and half the people in town had it inside a week and the other half were so blamed scared that they thought they had it. But through it all Binder never once lost his merry, cheery ways. Luckily it was a mild attack and everybody got well; but it made it mighty easy for Doc Hoover to bring sinners tinder conviction for a year to come.

When it was all over Binder didn’t have a friend in town. Leaked out little by little that as soon as one of the men who’d been cheering for jolly old Binder got yellow jack, the first thing he did was to make his wife swear that she’d have Magoffin do the planting.

You see, that while a man may think it’s all foolishness for an undertaker to go around solemn and sniffling, he’ll be a little slow about hiring a fellow to officiate at his funeral who’s apt to take a sense of humor to it.

Si Perkins was the last one to get well, and the first time he was able to walk as far as the store he made a little speech. Wanted to know if we were going to let a Connecticut Yankee trifle with our holiest emotions. Thought he ought to be given a chance to crack his blanked New England jokes in Hades. Allowed that the big locust in front of Binder’s store made an ideal spot for a jolly little funeral. Of course Si wasn’t exactly consistent in this, but, as he used to say, it’s the consistent men who keep the devil busy, because no one’s ever really consistent except in his cussedness. It’s been my experience that consistency is simply a steel hoop around a small mind--it keeps it from expanding.

Well, Si hadn’t more than finished before the whole crowd was off whooping down the street toward Binder’s. As soon as they got in range of the house they began shooting at the windows and yelling for him to come out if he was a man, but it appeared that Binder wasn’t a man--leastways, he didn’t come out--and investigation showed that he was streaking it back for Connecticut.

I simply mention this little incident as an example of the fact that popularity is a mighty uncertain critter and a mighty unsafe one to hitch your wagon to. It’ll eat all the oats you bring it, and then kick you as you’re going out of the stall. It’s happened pretty often in my time that I’ve seen a crowd pelt a man with mud, go away, and, returning a few months or a few years later, and finding him still in the same place, throw bouquets at him. But that, mark you, was because first and last he was standing in the right place.

It’s been my experience that there are more cases of hate at first sight than of love at first sight, and that neither of them is of any special consequence. You tend strictly to your job of treating your men square, without slopping over, and when you get into trouble there’ll be a little bunch to line up around you with their horns down to keep the wolves from cutting you out of the herd.

Your affectionate father,


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