I’d like to start off with a few more stories about my Klaassen family that I didn’t tell last month. My grandpa Klaassen took me fishing at the Windom River and the slough east of Delft on the north side of the road. It’s the place where my dad would stop to fill the radiator on the old car. Uncle Ben was a heck of an ice fisherman. I never could see how he could sit out there in the cold without any gloves. He bought a new 1955 Chevy which we took to fish at a better lake up north in Minnesota. That’s when I learned about vacuum windshield wipers. It always rained when we went fishing. If you stomped on the gas, the wipers would stop working. My uncle Ben also taught me how to throw electric wire staples at a wooden wall in the garage and make them stick. My uncle John called Toyotas Tiogas. I always wondered if that was from his days in WWII. My aunt Marie was married to Glenn Campbell, and he didn’t play guitar. They had three daughters Ruth, Linda and Susan. Ruth and I would take a magnifying glass at my grandma’s house in Delft and burn our names in a piece of wood. It was pretty cool. My uncle Harry was a neat guy when I was young, but turned into a regular old guy when I was older. My sister Elaine told me he said he wished he had bought more life insurance as the plane was falling out of the sky.
A guy goes ice fishing all the time. His wife says, stop bringing home ice, I don’t know how to fix it!
The ads on TV are making me crazy, especially the ones about the senate races in Georgia and the ambulance chasers. There’s more of those here than at home. Another thing that’s different here in Atlanta is that it didn’t freeze until December 1. We’ve never been here for Thanksgiving in 25 years. Why did we wait so long?
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you and yours. I will sure be glad to see the end of 2020. If you need a gift for that hard to shop for person, buy my two-volume set of Two Decades of Partly Nonsense. They are available at the Hillsboro Free Press online store or at the office.
These jokes are just in from LA:
At the end of the day, a cliché walks into a bar — fresh as a daisy, cute as a button, and sharp as a tack.
A mixed metaphor walks into a bar, seeing the handwriting on the wall but hoping to nip it in the bud.