Bevvy G

Bevvy G here, checking in with another short (and somewhat disappointing) Small Town Sentinel Sunday. I’m going to go ahead and say that if next week’s issue is as boring as the last two, I’m skipping/fast-forwarding to the next edition that has Chaper Notes. Or pop machine bandits.

Anyway, one short snippet this week comes from our guy, T-Fisch. You know, the one who has worked at The STS since literally maybe high school and has his own editorial (sometimes two) each week. In this week’s paper, T-Fisch writes his editorial column about the school shooting that occurred in Florida in February. I’ll give it to him, the article is actually pretty good, but he starts out by saying it was “just another Wednesday” and then outlines his Wednesday routine. “My Wednesdays are pretty routine. Get a slice of breakfast pizza at [gas station]. Drive around to various courthouses to pick up the latest reports. Visit my great aunt at the care center. It was Valentine’s Day, so I made sure to pick up a couple roses.“

And now, on Wednesdays, I’m just going to think about T-Fisch cruisin’ the courthouse loop. And his slice of pizza and his great aunt.

So, there was that and the fact that my high school was having Walking Tacos for lunch that week. Which, trust me, is a highlight.

-Bev

Well, it’s another kind of disappointing week over here with the STSS. You’ve probably figured out by now that this basically just means there’s no Chaper Notes section. I HEART Chaper Notes!

But we do have another robbery! Yes, a $16,000 snowmobile was taken from a farm shed on 130th St. in Rockdale. “At this time, the Sheriff’s office has made no arrests.” Well, shocker. 

Oh, there were also two girls who challenged the school board to be able to wear their Girl Scouts graduation cords. They lost their battle. It was on the front page.

There was also a full insert featuring the local FFA chapters this week. Full color. Fantastic.

Fingers crossed for some better material next week. Ya know, Chaper Notes or Dougherty pop machine update.

-Bev

It’s the Saturday before the 4th of July, which means it’s time for Mayberry’s annual Independence Day celebration, and one of the only times I wish I lived in Mayberry. The celebrations are really very fun, and the fireworks are much better than one would expect from a town of around 200 people- and supposed to be bigger and better this year, according to Mama G!

See below for a few fliers from Mayberry’s Facebook page, which lay out the details of the weekend quite nicely. Of course, in order to conceal my identity, I had to do some fancy Photoshopping on the posters, but for the most part, you can see all the gory details. This will keep you all abreast of the day’s activities, and if you’d like to catch up on the pictures from last year’s events, you can do so here.

Have fun, Mayberrians!

-Beverly

I’m sorry to report that this will be a short Small Town Sentinel Sunday, everyone. There’s just not much to report in this week’s edition!!

I’d like to start out by acknowledging that T-Fisch and The Small Town Sentinel received some awards earlier this year (this edition was published in February), so way to go, STS! And, in true STS fashion, there was a typo in T-Fisch’s quote about winning his award. I just love it.

But there is one titillating little article on page 3 this week, and it revolves around the hot topic of snow removal. Hot topic, you say? Well, it was in Thornville this winter, it seems. The headline of the article reads Community snow removal concerns on the rise, and a “concerned citizen” went to the Thornville council meeting to share his worries. It sure sounds like this resident was pretty heated, as shown by this direct quote: “Two things are necessary at this point in time… and those things are to immediately manage, instruct, or replace the persons using the [snow plowing] equipment, and, in April, something needs to be done to repair the damage.” It sounds like the snow plows have torn up some citizens’ yards and the residents of Thornville ain’t havin’ it. This resident also stated that plow drivers are, allegedly by multiple community members’ observations, often caught driving at an excessive and reckless rate of speed. And it doesn’t stop there- Other communities are experiencing similar concerns, although more isolated than Thornville’s. 

You know who would take care of this? I do.

-Bev

I absolutely can’t stand it when people refer to the eggless cookie dough as edible cookie dough.

I’m here with a very important public service announcement for you: ALL COOKIE DOUGH IS EDIBLE.

-Bev

Comin’ in hot here with a late STSS here, guys. I had a very busy day of shopping, lunching, and attending an open house of my dream home with Fawn and her mom. Then Petunia Smalls came over for dinner and here we are, much later than normal.

Before I set in with the funny parts of this week’s Small Town Sentinel, I want to give a forreal forreal shoutout to my high school friend, Nina Applebottom. I opened up this edition to the following headline: Operation Gratitude: National veteran appreciation movement stems from a Shiffon woman’s efforts.

That Shiffon woman? The one and only Nina. The article goes on to tell about how Nina’s dad is a Vietnam war vet, and Nina runs a military triathlon each year in order to raise money for different organizations that honor veterans. I’m pretty sure I donated last year, and most certainly will be this coming fall. Nina, you da bomb, girl!

And now, on to the other highlights. You know, like this one.

Or this one…

And this highlight, which probably isn’t funny to you, but I have to tell ya… when I read it, I literally thought this was some kind of celebration to get 2,018 people in the park. Now, I know that seems pretty freakin’ stupid (Petunia Smalls just told me so), but we’ve seen stranger things in The Small Town Sentinel (Wayne’s robin on the front page, for example). Anyway, I believe that People in the Park must be Shiffon’s new version of “Big Days” and I’m so disappointed I won’t be nearby on August 25. Over/under on 2,018 people attending 2018 People in the Park?

And to round out this week’s quickie of a STSS, I want you to read this article below. And I want you to know that there was no “Quality Care of Animals” certification required when Maude and I showed our cattle. Which is good, because I probably wouldn’t have passed.

The world is going to Hell in a handbasket.

-Bev

As we all know, Father’s Day is approaching quickly. (well, at least I hope you know that. If not, you’ve got a few hours to throw something together!) Maude and I lucked out this year in that we were able to get Smoke and Mama G one joint gift that we think they’ll actually really like. In fact, we’re pretty much sure they will, because we asked them before we bought the tickets. You see, Martin Short and Steve Martin are going on tour this summer, and we got them tickets to one of the shows near Mayberry. While we knew they would enjoy the show (you should hear Smoke’s version of Steve Martin’s SNL skit ‘King Tut’ sometime), we had to double-check dates with them before making the purchase. (you should also hear Smoke’s version of how if “he doesn’t do it, it don’t get done”… you best not plan things for him because he will literally skip it if he can be in a tractor [or other piece of machinery] for the day)

Anyhoo, I did want to share some Mother’s/Father’s Day content with you because it brings up some pretty good Smoke and Mama G stories. And let’s face it, without Smoke and Mama G, Bev ain’t that funny.

We’ll start out with this email I received shortly before Mother’s Day:

I mean, for many moms, this would be a great gift, right? I mean, I’m not a mom, but I didn’t really realize that Uber did gift certificates/credits, so I’m happy to know that for future gifts; just not likely to be given to Mama G.

You see, Mama G is a fairly new Uber user. Like, within the last six months. In actuality, she signed up for Uber more like a year ago, but signed up to be a driver. Which, ya know, is handy a) in Mayberry and b) for someone who has literally never used the app before.

Anyway, she finally managed to sign up to take Uber rides not give them, and was pretty jacked up to take her first ride while she and Smoke were visiting Austin a few months ago. Please note that there were at least two conference calls before said ride. You know your typical Mom calls (we’ve all had them) “How do they know where I am?” and one where she was sitting at home in Mayberry, but wanted to be able to estimate the cost of an Uber ride from their hotel in Austin to the airport or downtown. Admittedly, this is more intermediate Uber usage- not for the beginner Uber Mom! You go, Mama G!

Anyway, she finally got up the gumption to take the first ride, and she was feelin’ pretty proud of herself after…

I know you’re probably thinking it’s odd that I asked if Smoke rode up front, because, well, that’s not really something one does in an Uber. Unless, of course, one is ol’ Smoke Goldenstein. Then- then, not only does one sit up front, but one absolutely pummels the Uber driver with questions from trip start to trip finish. You might not believe me, but here’s a list of actual questions/comments from Smoke to the last Uber driver we had together (this was before he and Mama G ventured out together, and was, therefore, under my account and rating).

“When’s it supposed to snow?”
“What’s the temperature?”
“Does your car have a thermometer?”
“What year is this?”
“Oh this is a Hybrid- I see the 48.8 mpg.”
“Well, you’re makin’ money like crazy then with that kind o’gas mileage.”
“Well, I suppose if I had a smart phone I could be sitting here, punchin’ on that son of a bitch like the rest of the world and everybody’d be happy.” (said when he caught a glimpse of me furiously typing his chatter into my notes to be saved for a rainy day Bev post. Luckily for you, that rainy day is today.)

This is only what I could capture, and doesn’t include anything from an epic Uber trip a few years back when Smoke, Mama G, Aunt Sue, Bessie, and I met up for a very big game for OurTeam. We were all shoved into an Uber (Smoke in front, natch) on our way home after dinner, and the downtown was crawling with fans of both OurTeam and the other. I don’t have any actual quotes, but he may or may not have been urging the driver to run over “Jaguars” as we’ll call the other team.

Somehow, I still have a 4.71 rating at Uber, guys. Next time Smoke’s in town, I’m going to carefully monitor any increases (OK, let’s be real- decreases in said rating).

Oh, that reminds me. Mama G called me one day to tell her her Uber rating. I had to break it to her that Uber isn’t necessarily a social media network, and that there’s no way for me to look up her rating unless I log into her account.

Literally, as I was working on this post, I got another Uber email, suggesting I buy Uber credits for my dad for Father’s Day. I just can’t even imagine.

-Bev

P.S.- An extra happy Father’s Day to my cousin, Timmy (dad to Adeline and Hank). He only gets a special shoutout because his wife thought Father’s Day was last Sunday and she already gave him his gifts. Which slays me.

It’s no surprise to me that Grandma Agnes was an instant hit here and, like I said, I really only covered the tip of the iceberg. Uncle Bart (UB, if you will) sent along some other fantastic memories of the GGGOAT¹.

Words in italics= direct quotes from UB’s email:

Mowing the lawn would be a 5-day operation:
Day 1 – “That lawn sure is growing fast.”
Day 2 – Make sure the oil is checked, gas is in the mower, and the door is open.
Day 3 – The actual mowing of the lawn (later on, this would be a 2-day job).
Day 4 – “I’m so glad I got that lawn mowed.”
Day 5 – “That lawn looks so nice.”

After supper, Grandma and Grandpa would go out and walk beans until dark all summer long. (Yes, we say supper. Always have, always will)

Grandma’s children and grandchildren could do no wrong. Anyone who crossed one of them was her sworn enemy for life. This was especially true for cousin Timmy. Keep in mind, he’s the only boy of seven cousins (great-grandkids to Agnes), and literally could not do anything wrong in Grandma’s eyes. One summer, I was living near Mayberry and working full-time at a factory during the day (ask Agatha about that summer; we were roommates) and taking a college course at night. Obviously, this was a pretty busy summer, and I’d say that (even according to Aggie’s standards) I was working pretty hard. She never said a word to me about my busy summer of work and school. However, Timmy was in high school at the time and one day after he’d spent a few hours helping Uncle Bart around the farm, he stopped in to Grandma’s before his baseball practice. As soon as he left, she went on for about twenty minutes about how hard Timmy worked. Cool, Grandma. Cool.

Her most repeated phrase – “We’ll just do the best we can. That’s all we can do.” Dude, not sure how I forgot about this one. Smoke still says it about three times a week.

She was always under the delusion that I had suddenly developed a taste for gravy and nuts. I’ve never seen Uncle Bart eat gravy or any kind of nut in my life (Mama G is pretty much the same). However, Grandma would always try to shove it down his throat. “Don’t you want any gravy on that, kid?” 

When she was in her early 90’s, I caught her up on the ladder cleaning her gutters on the north side of the house. She said she didn’t think anyone would catch her back there. I told her, “That’s the problem. If you fall, nobody will find you for hours.” She just shrugged. Page family- do we have copies of her X-rays anywhere? I’d also like to add (as Maude reminded me in the comments of the last post) that Grandma fell backwards onto Smoke and Mama G’s car after Christmas Eve services once, causing the biggest dent I’ve ever seen on a Goldenstein vehicle. (we didn’t discover this until much later… she probably weighed 120 pounds and, again, acted as if she was in no pain whatsoever. Does osteoporosis secretly come with some kind of superpower?)

She would be out cleaning the windows in the tractors every morning when we went to the field. One morning when she was near 90, she put a step ladder on the drawbar of the tractor so she could reach the back window. The ladder slipped and she landed flat on her back. Her feet must have been five or six feet from the ground and she landed on the hard rock. She acted as if she wasn’t hurt, of course. This may partially explain her serpentine back x-ray. Page Family- see above comment on X-rays.

Grandma was always worried about something. If any of the kids were gone from home (which was frequently) she would talk about it until they got home, and then, “Thank God they’re home.” Her default worry was the weather or fire. You knew if she was worried about a storm or the house burning down, there wasn’t a whole lot of strife in the kids’ lives. She always unplugged the TV despite repeated warnings that if the TV got struck by lightning, it would undoubtedly come in through the antenna. I can’t tell you how many times I went over there to see her tiny little self crawling behind the TV stand to unplug it (or plug it back in after a storm).

Oh, Grandma.

-Bev

¹Mom, Dad, Nan, Jean, other readers above the age of 40: GOAT stands for Greatest Of All Time. I think you can all figure what GGGOAT means.

OMG, guys, the day is finally here! The one you’ve all Mama G’s been waiting for! The details of the Dougherty pop machine heist! It’s my favorite thing in this week’s STS and will be the only thing I share with you from this week’s edition.

Vending machine bandits in Dougherty 

(Now, where I come from, there would be some more words capitalized in this headline. Also, I come from there, so I’m kinda confused, but let’s carry on)

According to the XX County Sheriff’s Office, faceless thieves stole $1,500 worth of property when they made away with two soda machines on Sunday, Jan 14, from a Main Street building in Dougherty. Are these thieves actually faceless? Because I gotta tell ya, there was a local legend named Mr. NoFace who lived near a lake in the area. Mr. NoFace was one of those things/people that were often discussed, but rarely (maybe never?) seen. He allegedly blew his face off freebasing cocaine in the 80s, and while High School Bev didn’t know what that meant¹, she sure kept her head on a swivel for a Mr. NoFace sighting whenever she visited the local lake.

The theft was reported at approximately 2 p.m., but the vending machines were described as non-functional, according to the Sheriff’s Office. Oh my God. It didn’t even work. This is easily my favorite part. However, maybe there were still some cans of Coke rollin’ around up in there? I guess we’ll never know.

The building is owned by JR of River City. At this time, no arrests have been made related to the incident.

Now, I know this is a short snippet from The STS, but quality over quantity, people. Non-working vending machines stolen and making a front page headline. I die.

In other (fairly unrelated) pop machine news, I do want to point out how important these sugar caddies are to small-town America. Smoke and Mama G have an old friend who recently relocated to another small town near Mayberry called Alec². Smoke and Mama G ran into said friend somewhere and were asking her about her new place, and where, exactly, in Alec it was located. She responded with, “You know where the pop machine is?” When Mama G acknowledged that, yes, she did, indeed, know where the Alec pop machine was, the friend was able to easily identify her new house as being across the street.

So, while you may see pop machines as a place to get a nice cold drink, a detriment to the obesity epidemic in America, or a nondescript object near the side of the road, some people see them as a navigation tool- a beacon of hope in an otherwise desperate landscape of actual directional aids like street signs and house numbers. I mean what do you think the fine citizens of Dougherty are doing without their pop machines? How are they directing new and old friends to their homes? DOUGHERTIANS, WEIGH IN- ARE Y’ALL OK? If not, we’d love to send FEMA in to help you, but I hope you have some other landmarks around town to help them find you.

-Bev

¹Adult Bev also doesn’t really know what freebasing is, to be completely honest. Let’s consider that a good thing, guys.

²Alec is not generally mentioned here, as it’s part of another school district nearby. This school district is comprised of three small towns, one being Alec, and another being Larimer. You will be hearing more about Larimer more and more, as it is the town where Maude, Jasper, Margaret, and Norma relocated last summer. It’s also the hometown of Grandma Agnes and Keith (wife of cousin Timmy). I know, I know… again, all very confusing and incestual. Sue us.

I mentioned yesterday that Timmy and Keith are moving out of our great-grantparents’ house. Seeing as how our grandparents and great-grandparents have been gone for years, you haven’t heard much about the grandparents on either the Goldenstein or Page sides of my family. But I’m here to tell you about an absolute legend today, folks. Great Grandma Agnes. Most people don’t know much of their great-grandparents, and many have never met them, but Maude and I are in the unique position of actually having had more living great-grandparents than grandparents for our whole lives. One of the most special of those great-grandparents being “Grandma Aggie” (not any more special than the other great-grandparents, necessarily, I guess just more known, as most of us Page cousins grew up near her, and spent more time with her than we did with most of our actual grandparents).

Now, Grandma Agnes was one hell of a woman, and I’ll try to paint an accurate picture of her here, but I’m going to call on Mama G, Uncle Bart, Aunt Judy, the Page cousins, and I may even text out some requests to some second cousins on the Page side to add some favorite Aggie moments in the comments. Basically, you’ll want to check back here for the next few days to learn more.

Besides being a good ol’ Midwestern wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, a pillar in the church, and one hell of a cook/baker, Grandma Agnes was probably best known in the community for her mowing. As in, taking care of her lawn. Now, Grandma Agnes was born in 1911, and was therefore in her 80s and 90s for most of the time that I knew and remember her, and she didn’t die until around age 98. Grandpa Earl (her husband) died in the early 90s, and Grandma Agnes lived alone on the farm almost up until her death. Not only did she live there alone, but she took care of the lawn well into her 90s and you’d be good and goddamned if you were going to mow it for her. So, great, Bev, your really old grandma took care of her lawn- so what? Well, let me tell you so what. So what, Aggie always wore a surgical cap when she mowed. So what, she lived right off a fairly busy highway and would whip that goddamn mower out of the ditch, straight up toward the highway at Mach speed before turning right back down into the ditch, no matter what vehicles may have been coming and going on said highway. It was a zero turn mower, and since I’m not totally sure what that means, I’ve included a picture of a similar one below. (keep in mind, Grandma’s was never this nice or this clean, and it was kind of all Uncle Bart and Smokey G could do to keep the damn thing running at times)

Now, just imagine a 90-year-old woman wearing a surgical cap barreling out of the ditch toward your moving vehicle on that thing.

Aggie was also well-known for her frugality. I mean, to be fair, the woman lived through the Great Depression as a young adult, and busted her ass for her entire life, so I’m not stating this as a fault, but merely as fact. Those styrofoam plates that your grapes come on at the grocery store? Yeah, that would be your plate at least nine times before it finally got tossed (usually in secret by another family member trying to get one over on Grandma). The mower that UB and Smoke were constantly repairing? Well, she ain’t buyin’ a new one. Oh, and the Thanksgiving turkey carcass? Give it to Grandma to de-bone because there won’t be one ounce of meat left on dem bones. (actual footage below)

When Grandma Agnes first met 20-ish-year-old Jasper, Maude’s then-boyfriend, the young couple stopped in and found her sitting at the table wearing no pants. And if you thought she modestly ran to put some on once company arrived, you’d be dead-ass wrong.

Aggie often wore “dickies” under her shirts, which is pretty amazing in and of itself, but picture this, guys: summer, 2004. Cousin Timmy’s high school graduation at Uncle Bart and Aunt Sue’s house. Mama G had gone over early to help Sue prepare, and Bev was tasked with picking up Grandma Agnes on the way. As I swung up to her garage and got out to help her into the car, she comes charging outta the house, commanding me to help her with her dickie. Well, I don’t know many people who could turn down a request from their sweet 90-something-year-old great-grandmother, so I did what you all would’ve done- I reached up the back of her shirt and pulled down her dickie. Remember how Aggie lives right off of a fairly busy highway? Yeah, that’s fairly important to note here.

Another great quality of Grandma Agnes’ was how she answered the phone. And answer the phone, she did. She was very involved in the local gossip circuit, which mostly involved her bestie, Barbara. Barbara lived in town, and Aggie out in the country, so they each had different crowds and goings-on to report to each other at least 783 times a day. Whenever Grandma answered the phone, it was with a certain pitch of “Hallo” that I can still hear (and replicate nearly perfectly) to this day. Note, “Hallo” as in, rhymes with shallow.

Crapshit. Grandma Aggie wasn’t one to swear, but when she did, this was her favorite word.

As mentioned above, Grandma was an excellent cook. One thing she’ll forever be remembered for is her world-famous party mix. You’d always be able to find a few huge jars of that savory mix of Chex, pretzels, and peanuts in the basement, as well as a Cool Whip container of it on the counter (see frugality comments above).

While I wasn’t there to witness it, as I wasn’t born yet, one of my favorite Grandma Agnes stories is of Uncle Bart and one of the cousins totally messing with her. One of them would hide in the deep freeze in the basement, and the other one would go up and tell Grandma they couldn’t get the freezer open. She’d mumble on and head downstairs to open it only to find one of her own grandchildren jumping out of it like a psychopath. Ah, the good ol’ days.

I’m sure there are hundreds more Aggie stories, but I’m going to leave you with a story of her mailbox. So, again, she lived off a highway, and in the Midwestern winters, the snowplows would pass her house many times. The “county guys” do the best they can to control that big-ass equipment, but in their haste to keep the highways clear for all the rest of us, they occasionally pop off a mailbox. As you know, there are lots of federal laws regarding mail and mailboxes, and it generally takes a lot of time and red tape before the county replaces your mailbox. Unless a 95-year-old woman comes charging out at you in a snowstorm, calling you a bastard. Then, the mailboxes get replaced fairly quickly.

Just sayin’.

Now, I’m sure some of the elder Page family members with more memories, brain cells, and years spent with Grandma will be here to post some additional memories, and to edit/clarify some of mine since I can’t remember for shit.

-Bev