Stringing Along
Cawker City, Kansas, suffered the fate of the small town with a double hit. She lies halfway between Interstate 70, to the south, and I-80 to the north. With less than 500 people left, they boarded up the stores and sat on their porches watching traffic go by until one day somebody picked up a piece of baler twine and tied it to another; then another, and still another.
Eventually they all must have gotten into the act, for the ball of twine now weighs 18,000 pounds and is 40 feet in circumference. Every August they hold a “twine-a -thong” and add more string to the growing giant, which resides under a special pagoda in the center of what was once the town. Not much to do in Cawker City.
Determined most of my life to see the “Worlds Largest ball of Tine, I finally made it this week. Never met any ‘Cawkerites’ while we were there. They were probably strung out somewhere. But did meet a couple from Idaho who were on their way to the ‘Big Tex Steak House’ in Amarillo. Had a nice chat, and they went on their way.
Looking around I spied three guys standing around their motorcycles looking at three road maps and mumbling to one another. Always looking for someone to talk, to I lumbered over and said ”Howdy,” in my friendliest voice. I didn’t understand the retort, it wasn’t directed at me anyhow. They talked back and forth, and once one of them split a wad of tobacco in my direction. Still determined to talk, I asked them if their maps showed a good place to eat. No answer. Did you ever feel like a piece of cold chopped liver on the back side of a dirty plate?
When I asked them which direction they had come from one of them begrudgingly mumbled “North”. That made perfect sense.
Putting my hands in my pockets I kicked a tobacco laden rock up towards the twine ball and started back to the car. One of them hollered out as I was opening the door, ‘Don’t you want to know a place to eat?”
“Naw,” I replied in my best Yankee voice, “ I really ain’t hungry anymore,” shut the door, and headed for the interstate.
“Must be Democrats”, I offered to Mary, as we passed the city limits sign. “How’s that ?” she asked.
“Three grown men, with three roadmaps, in a town with one street, who can’t determine their direction, tells me all I need to know.”
Ya shoulda voted for Trump. You may not like the way he speaks, but he knows which direction he is headed in. See you down the road……. Mg n gg
garythepreacher.com 