Aunt Beatrice goes to Washington #3

Aunt Beatrice woke up early and walked out on her front porch to find
a large basket of pumpkins. “Why on earth are my pumpkins just sitting there?”

Grandpa Jesse heard her and popped his head out the door.

“What did you say?”

“I said, why did someone pick my pumpkins?”

“Beatrice, I don’t know.”

“Wait, there’s a note.”

Aunt Beatrice found a crumpled up piece of paper stuffed in back of the basket.

She pulled it out, straighten it, so she could read it.

“Enjoy your pumpkins, nice job of growing them, but right now,

we need your help. Please come.”

“So, what did the note say?”

“I’m reading it, just hold on….”

Hmmmm, Aunt Beatrice was in deep thought.

Where was she suppose to go?

“I’m waiting patiently, Beatrice.”

“Keep your shirt on, Jesse. I need to go pack my suitcase.”

“Where are you going, this time?”

“I’m going to Washington. They need me.”

(to be continued)

Aunt Beatrice goes to Washington #2

After church Aunt Beatrice, put on her boots, sat on the porch overlooking the ranch.
She watched the ducks splash in the pond and a squirrel run up the tree.
“What’s up Beatrice? Did you enjoy Father Simon’s sermon?”

“If that is what you call it. He didn’t have much to say.”

“I think he was ready to watch football and have a good meal.”

“Do you think we should invite him out to the ranch sometime for supper, Jesse?”

“That would be neighborly of us, won’t it.”

“But, Jesse, I’m telling you right now, NO FOOTBALL.”

“OK, OK, have it your way, Beatrice.”

 

“Thank you, I will. By the way, where is that nephew of mine, James?”

“You know that James is not your real nephew, Beatrice.”

“Yes, I know that. I have to call him something besides
Congressman Jamison. It’s too formal to call him that.

I’ll stick with nephew. Why do you care what I call him?”

“I don’t care one bit what you call him. Congressman Jamison

is down on the Gulf, helping out victims affected
by hurricane Harvey.

That was one of the worst hurricanes we’ve seen a very long time.”

“Is he coming back to his ranch soon? I need a few bottles

of that specially produced wine that he always brings me.”

“Beatrice, why don’t you text him.”

“Oh hell, I don’t text; young kids do that. Maybe, I’ll call him
after I check on my pumpkin patch.”

Grandpa Jesse shook his head and walked inside the house,

letting the screen door slam behind him. He  knew better that to

argue with Beatrice.

(to be continued)

Aunt Beatrice goes to Washington

Aunt Beatrice was sitting on her front porch with her dog, Lucky.

It was still early in the morning and she thought she was the only one up on the ranch.

Summer had ended and weather was pleasant. How Aunt Beatrice loved this time

of the year. She could sense the pumpkins were growing to larger sizes in the field.

Deep in thought and memories, until Grandpa Jesse broke the silence.

“Beatrice, what are you doing up so early?”

“Oh, well, good morning Jesse. I’m thinking about those pumpkins growing in the field

and what a mess this country is in these days.”

“Why worry about something you can’t fix, like our country.”

“I do worry about it Jesse. And you should too. What happened to your American spirit?”

“Oh, my dear it’s still there but no one is listening anymore.”

“That’s just what I mean. What happened to the good old days?”

“Beatrice don’t get yourself worked up over it. How about we watch the NFL

football games this afternoon, after church?”

“Football? You want to watch those players disrespect our flag and our national anthem? Oh, no Jesse, I’m boycotting those games.”

“Come on, Beatrice, they are exercising their 1st amendment rights to protest.”

“Not on my dime. If I was an owner, I would fire or fine them for not standing

and not respecting our flag during the national anthem.”

“Beatrice, come on and let’s go to church and pray for our country, alright?”

“Let me have a cocktail, first Jesse, I think I’m going to need it.”

“How about another cup of coffee, Beatrice. You shouldn’t drink before

going to church…bad habits and all.”

“OK, Jesse, go ahead and I’ll be right behind you.”

Aunt Beatrice took a sip of bourbon from her glass and smiled. “That’s more

like it. Bring on that sermon, Father.”

(to be continued)