A lot of friends.
If he didn't know it before, he knows it now. Dr. R.R. Andersen has a lot of friends.
They paid tribute to him and 40 years of medical practice in a special observance at Nehawka. The community did it up right — they like the man.
Dr. Andersen (I don't know what "R.R." stands for) is a driver. We learned that when the first simulated disaster was held in town under the direction of the Civil Defense and the rescue squad.
Dr. Andersen ramrodded the emergency care section at the hospital. That meant taking care of a lot of injured and frightened people in a very short time. He handled it with amazing coolness, direction and security. We all enjoyed the drill thanks to the success he contributed to it in the hospital operation.
Congratulations to our friend on 40 years of dedication to fellow man.
To Sam Kellogg, Jr.
We have the sports page from the St. Petersburg, Fla., Times, and smack on the front page is a large picture of a rodeo scene . . . you bet, the Sidney, Ia., rodeo with Will Herron being tossed from a bronc in a bareback event.
The item was brought to our attention by Loyal Shannon. He agreed that the rodeo recognition is spread afar.
Fire calls.
Nebraska City volunteer firemen were kept pretty busy the other night when two alarms sounded within a short time.
Driver Ken Wiles notified all the volunteers, sounded the alarm, then drove the fire truck (it started after a few anxious moments) to the scene.
Meanwhile fire department rules about other duty drivers reporting to the station were in effect. Jim Chaney showed up at the station moments later. Butch Rains was already at the station. He had been at a rescue meeting in the next room.
Rains went back to his meeting and Chaney took over the fire duties. Routine, both men thought.
Chaney was troubled with something in his eye (thought to be a metal shaving) so Dr. Paul Madison who was also attending the rescue meeting took a moment to look at the eye.
And then it happened . . .
"Baaaaaaa" went the fire phone again.
This time it was a rural fire. Chaney and Rains went to work. They alerted volunteers for the second fire, then started equipment and had it running when the volunteers arrived. Chaney drove one of the rigs while Rains stayed at the station. Four rural units were dispatched to the Trail farm.
The point to remember here is that the firemen are volunteers. The legislature has given volunteers $5,000 life insurance (always a pleasant thought, you know, that someone else gets the money) but for the most part Nebraska City's three companies draw a sandwich and a can of beer on "payday."
About the only thrill for firemen is a new piece of equipment like the ladder rig which should be delivered in the next few days or w[illegible].
Small towns are blessed with volunteers like those who make up the fire department. The cost for maintaining a paid fire crew would be staggering. In fact, occassionally we hear talk about the taxpayers hiring full-time fire or rescue crews but the truth is, we doubt that either organization wants to be city-controlled.
Three fire companies in Nebraska City date back many years. There's a lot of pride.
The home and castle.
"Y-e-e-o-w! Lookit that, dad!
"Y-a-b-b-a-d-a-b-b-a-do-a . . . go, man go, go, go!"
"Ivan," speaketh the Queen Bee.
"Yeah," I answered from the basement rec room.
"What's going on down there?"
"That's O.J., mom," No. 1 son answered.
"O.J. what?" she snorted.
"O.J. Simpson and he's killing 'em," saith the young son.
"Ivan, what are you two doing down there?"
"Football, mother, football on TV," I assured her.
"Football? Now? It's 90 degrees outside and football is on televison already?"
"Yeah," I answered, "and it's so cool and nice in front of the TV."
School days.
If your house is like our house, then you probably have the same rat race every morning.
If it isn't choir or football at the high school, it's volleyball at the junior high. We haven't had one of those little ones board a bus for kindergarten for a long time, but we know the feeling.
Meanwhile, our house is getting larger. Another daughter is leaving.
We'll spend Labor Day at Morningside college at Sioux City, Ia., where No. 2 daughter, Clarissa, will make her "home" for the next several years.
Everything I've ever said to that girl about her room is coming true. She's spent a week cleaning it and every night packing stuff to take to school.
(You parents of teen-agers know what I mean . . . they decide to do the cleaning and packing after 11 p.m.)
"Hurry up and get that stuff out of there," I told the little Missy one day. "I want that room spotless by next week."
"Okay, okay, daddy," she answered, "but I don't know what the big rush is."
"You aren't going to using the room anymore, are you?" I asked.
"Well, no, not really, but it's still MY room."
"Fine. Clean it up. I want to run a want ad in the News-Press — ROOM FOR RENT."
"M-O-T-H-E-R!"
Wolfman Jack.
Ah! Ah! Hel-lo there Sharon Schmitz, receptionist at Nebraska City Federal Savings and Loan Association.
For you folks who've never heard of Wolfman Jack . . . call Sharon's mother, Mrs. Jerry Schmitz. Understand that mother and daughter had a talk and Mom now knows all about Wolfman.
. . . or you can always call Sharon at NC Federal . . . or you can tune into Double-U-O-Double-U.