Cousin Brad in Amery stopped at the Uff Da–Youbetcha cafe on Vine Street this past week, ordering his usual liver cooked rare with rare bacon on the side. Across from his table he noticed a wonderful old couple huddled together who just got their order: one large orange juice, one hamburger, and a side of fries.
On an extra plate the man counted the fries so each of them received the same number while she cut the hamburger in half. He took one half and each took turns drinking from the glass of orange juice. They shared it all.
Brad’s liver arrived, but he couldn’t stop staring at the couple, guessing they were in their 90s.
Standing up and walking to their table, Brad, a man of action, carefully asked them if they’d accept another order of fries and a hamburger. He guessed they were too poor to order more food.
The lady, introducing herself as LaVerne, told him that’s all right. “We share everything, we enjoy eating out like this. Once a week.”
Her husband, Timothy, simply nodded his head and kept eating. His wife wasn’t eating at this time.
“Ma’am,” Mark said. “Don’t let me keep you from eating.”
“That’s okay,” she said with a gracious smile on her face. “I’ve got to wait for the dentures. It’s Timothy’s turn to use them.”
Brad had a hard time finishing his rare liver and bacon.
Turkey Shooting in Rural Amery
Cousins Jimmy and Brad Lindahl sat drinking a few brews at the Alibi in Amery, the one near the clock, and Jimmy announced that he had something great to announce.
“Brad, got my first turkey today, the first ever.”
Brad didn’t even know Jimmy had a turkey license, but he asked him where he shot it.
“Out at the Stalheim Farm on 46, one shot to the head. A great big white tom turkey.”
“White? How did you shoot a white turkey?”
“Like this. Everything went well until the farmer stepped out of the barn and yelled at me to get away from the chicken coop.”