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Beneath
The Message Tree
A letter from the
editor.
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By the time
you are reading this, the Ozark hills will
be ablaze with color, the green leaves of
summer turning beautiful hues of red and
gold. As with each fall season,
communities all across the region are
having end of harvest festivals and craft
shows that we all enjoy attending, some
even take on the sprit of a family
reunion, with folks having the opportunity
to renew old friendships.
Each weekend, there is an event somewhere
in the Ozarks, but if festivals and craft
shows, just are not your "thing" why not
just take a short drive to one of our fine
parks and enjoy some of the natural beauty
of the hills. In this issue of The Message
Tree we make mention of one fine park,
donated to the people of Missouri by Paul
and Ruth Henning, Paul as you might recall
was the creator of such situation comedies
as The Beverly Hillbillies. Another
opportunity to view the Ozarks, up close
and personal can be found at Talking Rocks
Cavern along their Eco-Tour where you can
take the family and learn about the
marvelous Ozarks bio-systems.
In this issue we continue our "My Home
Town" series, each month taking a look at
one of the hometowns of the Ozarks, Ava
Missouri being our choice for this month.
And of course no story about Ava would be
complete without mentioning the Glade Top
Trail and festival. The trail is a ridge
top road that you can drive along and from
some points see all the way to Arkansas,
so as you can imagine during the fall this
is quite a breathtaking panorama. The
festival held at Ava to celebrate the fall
foliage along the trail is held on the
third weekend of October, so mark your
calendars! And speaking of Ava, we have
noticed a large number of new subscribers
from Douglas County during the last few
weeks, to these folks and all the other
new subscribers, we would like to welcome
you to THE MESSAGE TREE and thank each and
every one of our subscribers for their
support of this electronic
magazine.
We
always love hearing from you, the readers
of THE MESSAGE TREE, but we especially
like to hear your suggestions, comments,
and even criticisms, as from your feedback
we can determine the type of articles you
want to see. We do watch the statistics,
"hits" as internet people call the number
of times a particular page is viewed by
the public, which is one way to estimate
the type of material you desire, but
nothing compares to e-mail letters.
Several
months ago one of our readers contributed
a poem about the ubiquitous privy or out
house. Recently one of our readers from
Canada (Dale, a.k.a Dochayes) sent us a
"Cowboy" version of the poem, which you
will find below. Once again we would like
to invite all of you to share with us your
stories about the Ozarks, it seems like
the "Ozark experience" is a tale that is
universal and appreciated around the
world. So why not take the time to e-mail
us with your short story about the Ozarks,
your poetry, or even your favorite recipe.
Just think of how much fun it will be to
tell all of your friends that your work is
in THE MESSAGE TREE.
The
Outhouse
Poem
Old Cowboy Ike got stove up real bad in a
cattle truck incident
And found himself realizing his cowboy
days had come and went.
He took savings and social security and
went in hock for a general store
And took to selling bread and gasoline and
a few things more.
It was on a road,in Prairie No Where,that
led to a dozen ranches
But the place had trees and for miles the
only ones with branches.
The service station trade was slow and Old
Ike just sat around,
With sharpened knife and cedar stick piled
shavings on the ground.
No modern facilities had Ike. It was just
a log across the rill Leading to a
shack,
marked His and Hers,that sat against the
hill. She arrived in a new SUV, obviously
having traveled fur
And rolled out demanding, "Where is the
ladies' restroom, sir?"
Ike sat back, said not a word, whittled on
and nodded toward the shack.
With quickened step she entered there but
only stayed a minute,
Until she screamed, just like a snake or
spider might be in it.
With startled look and beet red face she
rocketed out the door
and headed quickly for the SUV, just like
three gals before.
She missed the log - jumped the stream -
let out an angry shout,
As her panty hose, down at her knees,
caught on an Aspen sprout.
She tripped and fell - got up, and then in
obvious disgust,
Ran to the Lexus, stepped on the gas and
faded in the dust.
Of course we all desired to know what made
the gals all do the things they did, and
then we found the old cowboy knew.
A speaking system he'd devised to make the
thing complete,
He tied a speaker on the wall beneath the
toilet seat.
He'd wait until the gals got set and then
Old Cowboy Ike
Would stop his whittling long enough to
speak into the mike.
And as she sat, a voice below struck
terror, fright and fear,
"Will you please use the other hole we're
painting under here!"
With thanks to
Mr. Anonymous who wrote the original of
this poem over 75 years ago. I hope he can
live with the modernization and the cowboy
re-write of this treasured oldie.
dochayes, 2003
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