A fire which destroyed a vacation home at Lake Wa-Con-Da has prompted the local lake authorities to seek protection. The group has asked property owners to volunteer to serve on a fire department, planned to outfit firefighters and is inquiring about a storm alert system.
So, it seems that the idea of "getting away from it all" just ain't true. No matter where you go to play, you've got a certain responsibility.
My suggestion was that Mrs. Russell Palmtag, one of the Wa-Con-Da property owners, be appointed fire chief.
Joe Fletcher, the ex-GI who sells washing machines, and everything else from Jerry Hall's Sears catalog, says he will be back on the baseball diamond this summer.
Joe hopes to coach the "old" Optimist team. He coached the boys to many victories and would like to get them back together for a team in the Jaycee league.
We attended a few practices of the team several years ago when they were "little guys." Joe used to get the boys on the diamond at 7 a.m., for a workout.
One morning he asked me to help. So, I picked up a glove to catch for righthander Gary Nerison. I caught two of his hard throws and suggested that it was time for me to go to work and leave the playtime scene to the boys. (My hand hurt for a week, but I never told that to Gary).
We've never attended a school evaluation session, but we've been fortunate to sit in on the reports given after the lengthy studies.
What may seem to be a dry, drab and uninteresting affair to lay people, is serious work done with dedication by school teachers and state department of education officials.
What it amounts to simply is — a better education for our kids.
The visitors attempt to find out what the school has to offer, look over the teaching materials, talk with teachers and students, look for flaws and then put it down in writing.
Nebraska City residents and school personnel should feel pretty proud. The committees liked what they saw. One item which kept coming up concerned new school facilities.
The old school just doesn't hack it in today's world. There's a new breed coming in every year and they're smarter than the grads who walked the halls of the 40 or 50 year old schools.
Schools have changed and many authorities say they must because education is the real meat of the hungry world. Those changes often require physical changes — new schools.
Gerard Timothy and me joshed with Bill Tempelmeyer who is with the Stella Southeast school system along similar lines. We weren't as gentle with "Temp" as the evaluators were with the Nebraska City schools, but our thoughts were along the same line.
In fact we envisioned great moves in school consolidation (if you want to get your head chopped off) in the Greater Stella Consolidated district.
The puns hold some sincerity. It was pointed out that perhaps the big hold up in school mergers is the tax levy. It's no surprise that rural school district tax levies are much, much lower than the town district levies.
There is one hope, schoolmen believe, and that is in the increased school aid authorized by the legislature. When fully funded under the law the Nebraska City tax levy will be sliced. As an example, school people in town have pointed out that if the law was in effect now, Nebraska City's operating school tax levy would be cut in half.
And podner, no matter how you look at it, that's what you call bargaining power or horse tradin' sense. Ask anyone in Union and they'll tell you about school mergers and the hope of school consolidation.
Don Chapin and Frank Bataillon were named by the rescue squad the other night to organize another city wide disaster drill. We had one a couple years ago and observers said it was worthwhile. The idea behind it is to find out how the town functions if a tornado swept across the community.
The job of organizing such a drill is mammoth. It takes so many people to put it over. And it's no good if everyone knows that tonight at 5 o'clock or tomorrow at 6 o'clock is when we're going to have the drill. It's gotta be a secret. There are a few who will be in on the know and they include law enforcement officers and civil defense authorities.
What we know about it you'll read in the paper. But then we are not likely to know any more about the date for the drill so we'll probably jump out of our chair when the siren on the courthouse blasts off.
You won't believe this . . .
But, the other day ole' Sam the Brownville headhunter and his woodchopper (he makes Belle do all the work) visited Nebraska City and took in the shindig on Arbor Day.
They met up with a feller dressed in a city slicker suit by the name of Cottonwood Cal Carsten, Avoca. Cottonwood (call him Woody, if you like) assured the hill people that he was a good guy and that he was a state senator and as such represented the people of the district. That really got ole' Sam.
Right off, the hunter offered his peace pipe to the senator. Woody obliged, putting away his Sir Walter Raleigh going to light up the shavings offered by the buckskin clad voter (?).
"Hold on thar, hoss," Sam said. "You ever smoke shavings afore?"
"Well, no," the senator said and then smiled as he remembered his corn silk days.
Anyway, ole' Sam leaned Betsy (that's his 99-pound rifle) up against Virg Pitstick's gingko tree and reached for his pouch.
In all the excitement of coming to town and seeing all the Shriners and their gay costumes, Sam filled the senator's pipe from the wrong pouch. Actually it was the right pouch, but Belle didn't want Sam to get into any trouble in town shooting off Betsy so she switched the black powder and tobacco.
Guess what happened? You've got it.
"B-a-l-o-o-e-y!"
The senator was thrown 40 rods, rolled in the rose bushes and bounced across the tulip patch.
He was still holding the pipe in his hand when he walked back to Sam and Belle.
"That's a little on the potent side," he said.
"Here," Sam said, "you didn't get enough . . . fill 'er up this time."
"No, no," the senator said, "Thanks so much but I believe I'll pass this round."
After visiting a few moments, the senator left. He walked wobbly-legged dusting off his suit.
Ole' Sam eyed Cottonwood Cal all the way.
"Whatcha thinkin' Sam?" Belle asked.
"Don't trust him," the hunter replied.
"Why not?" Belle demanded. "He smoked with you didn't he?"
"Yup," Sam answered, "but he ain't much can't even hold up to a little shavings smoking."