Tonawanda News — Wow! Am I ever glad the Rod Rowland pays attention. He emailed referring to last week’s column item about five Friday, Saturday and Sundays in August — a phenomena that supposedly happens only once every 823 years.
Not so, Rod said.
“Check out March 2013. Any 31-day month that begins on a Friday would have five Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays, unless I am missing something. Wouldn’t it make sense that the law of averages would dictate any given month to begin on a Friday, every seventh time. I’ve seen that forwarded e-mail before.”
Thanks for the correction, Rod.
Once a month Dick Hempel stops by with the announcement for the luncheon for the North Tonawanda High School classes of ‘39 to ‘47. We also spend some fun time reminiscing about years past. This week, the topic turned to dairy farms and how at his uncle’s farm they’d enjoy milk right from the cows. And how about milk delivery in glass bottles and paper tops which in the winter would be pushed up as the milk froze in a milk box or on an outside step? Or the cream that came to the top of the bottle. Or shaking the bottle each time milk was poured?
(By the way, those of you in the above-mentioned classes, why not attend the luncheon at Pane’s and do some more reminiscing then send Dick over with more stories?)
Last week, I drove George Manhardt to a Quality Student committee meeting. We were late (my fault) and I had a disparaging word to say about every signal that was red. George, in his very calm voice, joked that he was sure there wasn’t a signal in the world that I didn’t like.
Right on, George.
Late as Usual
Anyone who know me knows I’ve inherited a gene from my dad that makes me late for everything. (Sorry, Dad.) Anyway, last week I had an appointment with Father Mike Uebler, everyone’s favorite pastor of St. Francis Church. I’d decided I would, for once, be on time — and miraculously, I was. However, Father Mike was still at his daily visits to the school classrooms, so he came in late.
“I want it noted,” I said, “that I was here on time.”
“And I want it noted,” Father Mike laughed, “that I knew I had an appointment with you, so I was sure I had an extra 10 minutes.”
Dave Fill, a former police officer in the City of Tonawanda, occasionally emails memories and ideas for this column. Yesterday I received the following true Christmas story, along with two others, both touching and beautiful, but too long for this space.
Dave wrote that this memory is from a fellow police officer several years ago and asked that the officer remain anonymous.
“About two years before I retired I answered a first aid call on Hackett Drive. I met an elderly, loving wife who was in tears; she led me through the house to the bedroom where her husband was lying on the floor, wedged between the bed and the wall. He couldn’t get up nor could she help him. I bent down, bad back and all, and hoisted him up to the bed where she nicely tucked him in. The old man started to cry weakly. I had noticed a picture of a young strong, handsome soldier just returning from WWI neatly placed on the dresser. I knew that before me lay the remnants of a once strong soldier who helped keep me in a free and beautiful country. I knew why he cried. He told me that he was so embarrassed because he couldn’t make it into his own bed. I told him that I noticed the picture on the dresser and that led to a conversation in which he was able to bring back memories of a better time when he was very proud of his manly hood. When I left, we all had a good laugh even though the corners of his eyes were still wet from tears. I thanked him dearly for his services during the war and let him know it was an honor to be able to help him this evening, I left heavy hearted knowing I too may very well be in the same situation that he was in this evening and I hoped that someone would be compassionate, a trait I learned from officers such as yourself.”Contact Community News Editor Barbara Tucker at firstname.lastname@example.org or 693-1000 ext. 4110.