Discovering Smalltown Citizens

When I first arrive in a place, everyone looks alike. Not alike in the way of being identical twins, but one is pretty much the same as another because I don't know everyone's stories yet. But now after six months here, the individuality is standing out like separate colors in a rainbow. I learned from their Christmas letter that Stan and Esther Essofigus have three sons. One is a high-powered attorney, one is a vascular surgeon, and the third works in Washington DC in the FBI. Imagine having three kids who are that outstanding in their fields! And I don't mean cornfields either, to make a bad pun.

I continue getting acquainted with Lola Flushpoole too. We talked on the phone after the eviction and destruction in the house across the street. She said she has a good idea who demolished the upstairs window after the tenants were evicted. She says she knew him as a kid and he was a big, nasty boy who grew into a big, nasty man. I am not printing his name here as I like to keep safe.

And I'm also getting to know members in the Smalltown Kiwanis Club, of which I am a member. After our Christmas party at Garza's Restaurant tonight, two of the guys, Ron and Juan, were hanging out at the front door making fart jokes. No, I was not the one who started it. But once it started I provided a scholarly, sophisticated perspective to the discussion. I told Ron and Juan that the world's oldest recorded joke was about farting. The New York Times reported recently on an ancient scroll someone dug up in Egypt. It declared, "Something that has never occurred since time immemorial; a young woman did not fart in her husband's lap." That joke dates back to 1900 BC, folks. How much have we changed?