You can hear the most amazing stories at the coffee clubs every once in a while. Some come from overactive imaginations, but there are others that seem so real they must be based on some degree of truth.

Last week we heard one that was a good example of talk about weather and politics slowed to the point an unusual silence occurred. That’s when one of the Bench Sitters started telling a story about a friend named Tall Sam who tries to make a living on a few acres over near the Black Hills.

Sam worked hard on his small ranch in Weston County. His wife worked a shift at a convenience store, and he also drove truck part time to keep all the bills paid. Sometimes that work kept him out of town overnight.

A while back his wife believed he was pushing himself too hard and not enjoying much in life.

So on his birthday she decided to take him to a night out in the “big town” of Rapid City. She fueled the pickup and they took off.

His wife frowned on drinking, but decided to take him to one of those downtown saloons as a treat.

When they walked in the bouncer at the front door said, “Hi Sam! Howya doin’!”

His wife was puzzled and asked if he had been there before. Sam said “no.”

“He thinks he’s a roper, and I met him at a branding over by Hulett last year.”

They got a table and a waitress in tight pants and top came over with a big smile.

“Well Sam, I suppose you want your usual Bud-Light,” she said with a grin.

His wife was getting angry and Sam explained she was a friend of the guy at the door and had helped serve food and beer at one of those brandings.

He had things settled down until another girl came by the table and said, “Hey Sam, are we gonna dance up a storm tonight?”

His wife stomped out the front door, and one of the few cabs in Rapid happened to be parked in front of the saloon.

Sam caught the car door and jumped in beside her. In soothing tones he started to settle her down. He explained how much he loved her.

It was going OK until the driver turned around and said . . . “Wow Sam, you picked up a real dandy this time!”

The Bench Sitter telling the story ended with … “Sam’s funeral is next week.”

And we have to mention there was frost on the ground at our place last Sunday morning, so maybe summer isn’t here yet.

In the area of technology we notice a few more hold-outs are starting to show up with those smart phones.

People who finally buy one of these “smart” phones soon learn a very small keyboard appears on the screen when they want to send a message.

The good Lord gave man thumbs to grasp things like food or hammers or golf clubs. I’m certain the Master Plan did not include the idea of “thumb typing.”

A new phone owner struggled with the task of sending a simple message when a kid watched him and said, “Don’t worry, you can simply ‘talk’ to the phone and it will type down whatever you say.”

He pushed the little “icon” that looked like a microphone, and said, “Hi Betty…I’ll stop by the store and get milk.”

Then he looked at the screen and it said, “Sigh getty, I’ll rot by the shore and fit silk.”

As he tried to correct the message he touched the little spot which says “send.”

As soon as Betty got the message she assumed he had fallen off the wagon again.

Life is too short to allow something that will fit into your shirt pocket to cause that much anxiety.

Finally this week we’ll pass along some ideas on how to stay young.

Try everything twice. The epitaph on your tombstone should read: “Tried everything twice. Loved it both times!”

Enjoy the simple things. Laugh often, long and loud.

Tears happen: Endure, grieve and move on.

Don’t take guilt trips. Take a trip to the Bighorns, even to Sheridan, but not to where you find guilt.

Tell the people you love that you love them . . . at every opportunity.

And remember, wine does not make you “fat” . . . it makes you “lean” … (against tables, chairs, floors, walls and ugly people.)

Stay happy so we can drop a line again next week.


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