Minnie with the western eye…and my dad

Sometimes Dad said things that were indicative of him coming from a different time and place.  For instance, he would refer to the refrigerator as an ice box. Even today, long after dad has moved on from this mortal coil, I refer to a refrigerator as an icebox. True, there is no sign of an iceman delivering a block of ice for my unit. I just like the sound of it.


Dad would say other things too. One night, we were eating dinner, and he is slopping down a mess of fried chicken. With dad, there never was a problem jawing up some conversation and chewing dinner at the same time. It could be a fairly disgusting site.


“I saw Minnie, today”, Dad would say.


“Who’s Minnie?”, I would ask.


“You know, Minnie..we was talkin’ down by Howie’s.”


“Dad, I have no clue who you are talking about”, I said.


“Dammit, you do, too, she’s the gal with the western eye.”




Minnie with the Western eye????


Put down my drumstick and started questioning Dad.


“What cha mean western?”


“You know” grunt, slobber  “western.”


Took me forever to finally figure out what a western eye was.  You see, Minnie’s eyes pointed in different directions.  Sort of like the old time comedian Ben Turpin.


So I followed up with the only logical question.


“How you know she was talkin’ to you?”


“Easy one”, says Dad, “no one else around.”


Started bludgeoning myself when I fully comprehended how stupid this conversation was.


One thing I could guarantee- Minnie was fully engaged for at least an hour with the serial yakker Dad.


It is my firm belief that, today, Dad and Minnie are sitting on a cloud somewhere and Dad is beating Minnie to pieces with tales of his tomato patch varmints.


And Minnie, well, she’s a gazin’ at Dad,….. and some other guy to the west.

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