Dear Smiley: Another Bob Hope story:
My husband, Tom, was stationed at Clark Air Base in the Philippines during 1964, when Bob came to do a show.
Tom and a few other guys went early to get good seats.
When they got there, all the good seats were taken by wives, children, officers and NCOs.
Bob came out to see how the set-up was going, and saw all these people in the good seats.
He brought attention to this, saying, “These seats are for the wounded and unaccompanied personnel — not for wives and children, so show them to the rear.”
So Tom did get a good seat behind the wounded, as it should be.
Bob was a fair person. He was there to entertain personnel who were far away from home without family.
Dear Smiley: I have just returned from a holiday visit to Katy, Texas, and I need to get caught up.
While there, I was in a room full of Aggies when I saw the last six minutes of the LSU-Texas A&M contest.
I have a question. Was the referee who made the last-minute controversial call named “Boudreaux”?
Armed and dangerous
Dear Smiley: A reader mentioned a 10-gauge shotgun. They are strong even in the best of shape.
As a teen, three of us hit the woods of Lee Road north of Covington. We carefully chose directions so we didn’t shoot each other.
Dean drew the “honor” of that 10-gauge, an older one we’d borrowed, and it didn’t have any recoil cushion.
We ran towards Dean to see his mighty trophy — and he was flat on his back with a big and growing bigger welt on that resting shoulder.
No more 10-gauges after we all took a shot — and the game was more than safe.
It’s also noisy.
Panama City Beach, Florida
Do you speak Texan?
Dear Smiley: We don’t have caliche (hardpan) roads in Louisiana, but there are plenty of them in central and west Texas.
We were given directions to a new turkey hunting ranch near Oplin,Texas.
The directions included “turn right on a caliche road.”
Well, we rode up and down that highway reading road signs, but couldn’t find Caliche Road.
We asked a local and got a strange look.
Finally, we called our hunting outfitter, who told us to turn on to Ranch Road 123, which was a CALICHE gravel road.
A language barrier crossed, we found the ranch and had a good hunt.
ALEX “SONNY” CHAPMAN
Dear Smiley: My father, Mr. Poonie Caballero, passed away at age 89 over eight years ago.
He had quite a few old sayings, such as, “Who dat says who dat when I say who dat?”
One that I never could figure out, and am hoping you or one of your readers can explain, usually came after I had done something, say, mischievous.
He would exclaim loudly, “Eh la bott, eh seimon!” and walk away shaking his head. Something French? Any idea?
My spelling may be off — could have been “Eh, la bas, eh semon.”
Dear Smiley: Sorry, but you have not yet heard the last word on the LSU “Corn Dog” nickname.
Tiger Stadium most certainly does not smell like corn dogs.
Bourbon, yes — corn dogs, no!
They don’t even SELL corn dogs in Tiger Stadium.
The reason the LSU football players are teased by other SEC teams with that name is that the tight gold pants that are always part of their uniform make their legs look like corn dogs, especially when leaping to make a touchdown pass or running back a kickoff against these opponents.
JANET SCHEXNAYDER ELIAS
The other woman
Dear Smiley: You just about had me in the doghouse.
After reading my story in your column, I realized you thought my “portable GPS” was my wife.
Do you think I would ever imply anything disparaging about my sweet, nonjudgmental, darling, devoted, angelic spouse?
No, the portable unit is actually a handheld device I used for years before purchasing the built-in unit.
On our trip, the two women talked back and forth politely until they disagreed.
Then it was Katy-bar-the-door.
My wife witnessed this exchange between them and me, and I could tell she was thinking, “There but for the grace of God…”
Dear Mark: Sorry, but it was a natural misunderstanding — MY auxiliary GPS occupies the passenger seat.
Write Smiley at Smiley@theadvocate.com. He can also be reached by fax at (225) 388-0351 or mail at P.O. Box 588, Baton Rouge, LA 70821.