MEEKER | My mother-in-law, Pat Hendrickson lived in Meeker about a year before passing at the age of 94. She didn’t get to meet most of you, so I would like to share some of her humor with you now. Her Christmas letters were hilarious stories of life. You will need a little background for her letter to make sense. Her references to the “Wolf at the door” reflected the uncertain economics of farming. Ernie was her husband and all around great father-in-law. Pat and Ern have moved from the farm into the small town of Oswego, Kansas as Ern’s health was failing, unable to work the farm on Bitter Creek that he so loved. Here are a few paragraphs from their Christmas letter that year..
If you have intentions of putting us in your address book, use permanent ink, as we are never moving again. Gruesome details upon request, but not fit for a family missive. We do recommend to anyone moving that you take a year to do it—if sanity is not a big issue with you. That way, like us, you will be sure to move 10 times the stuff you will never need, use, or want in you remaining life time. You will also, like us build a garage to store the stuff in and then have to wedge the car inside with great care for the rest of your born days. (I am not sure what born day means, or are, but they sound ominous enough to be included in the context.) … The fluttering you hear is time passing quickly. Ern and I continue to creep around and avoid each other’s last nerve. This is a smaller house but comfy and so close to town we can see Main Street from our living room window. We can walk, or I sometimes hike, on our daily rounds. We have lovely neighbors, our church is close as is the bank and library, Pizza Hut and a good restaurant is a block away and a Casey’s General Store is next door. Everything we need literally at our doorstep. Really upsets the wolf. And no, we did not leave him on Bitter Creek. He quite comfy in Casey’s dumpster. The three cats we brought from the farm are happily living indoors with us and we take treatments for hairballs.
By ED PECK
