Dear Smiley: Years ago, my daughter came to the house with my 3-year-old grandson.
I did not hear them, as I was in the back yard tending to my tomato garden.
When I looked up and saw him, I said, "Hi, George; I didn't know you were here."
He replied, "That's O.K., Nanan; I didn't know I was here either."
Dear Paula: Sounds like my "hereafter" feeling — stopping and asking myself, "What am I here after?"
Dear Smiley: Your Lenten stories reminded me of another method of ministerial communication — the signs often seen in front of usually rural churches.
My dad and I often get together after the season closes to scout for property which might be for sale and suitable for deer hunting. These expeditions lead us into some very rural areas, well off the beaten path.
On one such foray, meandering down a narrow, deep woods gravel road, we rounded a bend to discover an old but well-tended white, one room church.
There in front, by the edge of the road beneath the canopy of a venerable live oak, was one of those commonly seen lighted signs with black letters proclaiming the apparent "Good News" of the week:
STOP DROP AND ROLL
DONT WORK IN HELL
JAMES CLARY JR.
What happens in Vegas…
Dear Smiley: The story about a professor who surprised a student from Japan by singing the student’s school song reminded me of a similar incident.
Several years ago I took a part-time job with an armored truck company. A company rep from out of town came to Baton Rouge to train a few of us newbies. I’ll call him Joe.
A few months later, my wife and I took a trip to Las Vegas. As we were walking along a crowded sidewalk, I saw Joe just as he passed us going in the opposite direction.
He was talking to another guy, and I heard just a little of the conversation, about whether they would need one or two trucks to transport some money.
When I returned to work, I told my boss that the next time he talked to Joe, ask him if he and the guy he was talking to in Las Vegas decided on one or two trucks. I didn’t give any other details.
A few days later, my boss said that question stunned Joe, who had no idea how I knew about his private conversation in Vegas. I finally gave in and explained it to them.
Dear Smiley: A recent item in your column had to do with the movie "Shy People," filmed years ago at Catahoula Lake.
I, too, visited the site where they were filming.
A house was newly built to resemble an old, very poorly kept up house.
It was surrounded by massive old oak trees dripping with Spanish moss — but apparently not enough according to the powers that were.
There was a man in a cherry picker hanging moss gathered from elsewhere on the trees. They must have felt that nature's work was insufficient and needed a little help.
"Shhhh…" she says
Dear Smiley: Although I enjoy your column a great deal, I must tell you that your haiku are really awful.
Please read up on the definition of haiku and you will understand that the art form is supposed to be serious, lovely, and reflective of nature or one great thought or theme per poem.
The haiku in your column are akin to a fingernail scraping on a chalkboard. Please cease.
MARGARET CROCKETT HARRISON
Dear Smiley: Your Friday mention of the prankster in the hospital bed reminded me of my uncle's stay at the Baton Rouge General years ago.
Uncle Johnnie Hughes was in for varicose vein surgery. My daddy went to visit him prior to surgery.
When an aide rapped on the door, Uncle Johnnie hollers, “Friend or enema?”
He also always had something going on.
LINDA H. WHITMAN
Lone robin visits
Scans back yard, spots earthworm bed
Now need new fish bait