The Sentimental Old Fool

Hick is a sentimental old fool. I'm pretty sure you already know about the "old" and "fool" part. I've done my best to keep you informed. But you may not truly understand how sentimental Hick can be. Take my latest auction gift. I'm not even going to pull a Henny Youngman and finish that with "PLEASE!"

That's right. Hick bought me a milk bottle. Without any milk. He paid $4 for it. Couldn't even wait to get it home, but sent me a text with the picture, from the auction:

"Milk bottle from mountain grove"

What he meant, of course, was a milk bottle from Mountain Grove. The town of my first teaching job. Oh, I didn't know Hick back then. And I've only mentioned it in passing. But that Hick has a mind like a steel trap, by cracky! So he just HAD to have this commemorative milk bottle.

I didn't know anyone from this dairy specifically. We had a lot of kids who lived on farms. That's about all there is in Mountain Grove. Except the town square. And a Walmart. We used to get out of school early on rainy days, so the buses could get kids home before the creeks came up. The town is midway across the state, in southern Missouri, on Highway 60. Right at an hour east of Springfield, if you drive the speed limit.

Yes, Hick bought me a sentimental milk bottle. He left it on the kitchen counter for a week. I asked if I was supposed to wash it, and he said, "No. I got it for you." I replied that it was a nice thought, but I don't really collect milk bottles. A couple days later, my commemorative milk bottle was gone from the counter, and perched high above my head on the top of the kitchen cabinets, where I can't drink in its full beauty, nor get a better picture for you. At least it's a companion for the dust bunnies.

That Hick. He's just a sentimental old fool.