Mary Ann Ellis
Nice people
Every night when I turn on the national news, I hear tale after tale about the sordid side of life. It matters little which network I choose—NBC, CBS, FOX, etc. Murder and mayhem fill the television screen. We watch acts of terror and unspeakable horror. Sometimes I just fast-forward through some of the stories because I cannot bear to hear even one more account of the horrible things people do to each other and to animals. I do appreciate the programs that end with something optimistic. We humans like stories with happy endings and of people reaching out to help each other. Wouldn’t it be nice to see more of those stories on the local level, too? We have nice people in our little town.
Remember back a few weeks ago when the rains fell every day and our yards were soggy? I had trouble finding a day dry enough to cut the grass. One day I went out to cut, knowing I’d have to avoid the ditch which I usually cut with the rest of the yard. I knew however that it was too soggy on this day. I cut merrily along enjoying the flowers and the smell of cut grass for quite a while before I eyed the wild grass in the ditches.
“I’ll just cut beside the boggy part,” I told myself. “I’ll be careful and not get too close.”
You know what’s coming of course. I drove too close and bogged the mower’s big back tire in the mud. Frustrated, I turned the mower off and sat there for a few minutes pondering my situation. In vain I tried to figure out some way to solve my problem without having to go inside and confess my sins to Larry. Now he’s no ogre. He’s rescued me on many occasions from a variety of predicaments. Usually he finds them amusing whether I do or not. That time I tangled the mower in the chain of the gym set and lifted the front end off the ground particularly amused him. He photographed the mower hanging there before he freed it and still laughs about it.
In this case I knew he’d come out and with little effort free the mower, probably crank it up and drive it out. I just really wanted to get out alone if possible, so I sat thinking. I’d already tried maneuvering it this way and that, but the mud seemed to cling all the more tightly to the big tire after every twist and turn. Furthermore, all my efforts had me in a spot where I’d have to step off into the mud to leave the mower.
About that time a nice clean truck rode by and I waved automatically. That’s what we do here in the south. The truck proceeded to the next road, turned around and came back.
A well-dressed young man stopped, smiled at me, and said, “Mrs. Ellis, looks like you’ve got a little problem there. Let me see if I can push you out.”
“Gosh, thanks,” I replied, “but I don’t want you to get your clothes all muddy. I can go in the house and ask my husband to pull it out for me.”
“I think I can do it without getting muddy,” he assured me. “Let’s try. Just crank it up and let’s see what we can do.”
In about 2 minutes he had the mower free and remained clean as a whistle. Flabbergasted and grateful, I turned to thank him, but he was already climbing back in his truck and waving goodbye. He was obviously one of those people who believe in helping folks in need. He’s my newest hero. If you see him out and about, please tell him I said thanks again.
“I’ll just cut beside the boggy part,” I told myself. “I’ll be careful and not get too close.”
You know what’s coming of course. I drove too close and bogged the mower’s big back tire in the mud. Frustrated, I turned the mower off and sat there for a few minutes pondering my situation. In vain I tried to figure out some way to solve my problem without having to go inside and confess my sins to Larry. Now he’s no ogre. He’s rescued me on many occasions from a variety of predicaments. Usually he finds them amusing whether I do or not. That time I tangled the mower in the chain of the gym set and lifted the front end off the ground particularly amused him. He photographed the mower hanging there before he freed it and still laughs about it.
In this case I knew he’d come out and with little effort free the mower, probably crank it up and drive it out. I just really wanted to get out alone if possible, so I sat thinking. I’d already tried maneuvering it this way and that, but the mud seemed to cling all the more tightly to the big tire after every twist and turn. Furthermore, all my efforts had me in a spot where I’d have to step off into the mud to leave the mower.
About that time a nice clean truck rode by and I waved automatically. That’s what we do here in the south. The truck proceeded to the next road, turned around and came back.
A well-dressed young man stopped, smiled at me, and said, “Mrs. Ellis, looks like you’ve got a little problem there. Let me see if I can push you out.”
“Gosh, thanks,” I replied, “but I don’t want you to get your clothes all muddy. I can go in the house and ask my husband to pull it out for me.”
“I think I can do it without getting muddy,” he assured me. “Let’s try. Just crank it up and let’s see what we can do.”
In about 2 minutes he had the mower free and remained clean as a whistle. Flabbergasted and grateful, I turned to thank him, but he was already climbing back in his truck and waving goodbye. He was obviously one of those people who believe in helping folks in need. He’s my newest hero. If you see him out and about, please tell him I said thanks again.
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