"I'm hurting, boys," he said. "That's a fact. 'Course Maizie told me
it was a fool thing to do, but you know how she is, so I did it
"What's that, Bert?"
"Grandfathering, that's what. But what the heck, guys, you gotta
do it, don't you? I mean, we owe it to the kids to start them on the
road ... yes, that straight and narrow road leading to a fulfilling
future, filled with..."
"Bert," said Doc, "you get tattooed with a phonograph needle?
Just tell us what happened."
"My granddaughter, Gina," he said. "She's 8 now, you know, and
she's been staying with us for a while. Well, she's the best girl
you ever met, but it's hard to get her up on time. Seems like every
other day she fools around and misses the school bus, and then we
have to drive her to school. I just got tired of that and figured
I'd teach her a lesson.
"Well, she missed the bus again this morning and said, 'Grandpa,
you'll have to take me to school.' And I said, 'OK, Honey, get your
books.' So she got her little backpack with the books on and I
walked her to school."
"All the way to school? How far is it from your farm?"
"Eight miles, boys. Eight very long miles."
[to top of second
He grinned. "Several times people stopped and offered us rides,
but I just said no thanks, and explained that it was an object
lesson. Gina just mumbled that she hated object lessons, but she
kept walking. Walked all the way up the canyon and didn't sit down
"How about Grandpa?" Dud asked.
"He didn't sit down, either. Hey, how would it look?"
"No wonder you're tired, Bert."
"Well," he said, grinning. "I don't expect I'll ever need to do
this again. I believe the lesson got learned just fine."
[Text from file received from Slim Randles]
Brought to you by the personally inscribed new book "Home Country,"