Spokane’s Ray and Debbie Tansy have a 5-year-old grandson named Connor in Virginia. He is in kindergarten.
As part of a Thanksgiving discussion, his teacher held up a picture of a dignified looking Indian in ceremonial regalia. She asked if the class could identify the person in the picture.
Connor raised his hand. The teacher called on him.
And young Connor offered that the person in the picture was a member of the Village People.
Isn’t that the tribe that likes to stay at the YMCA?
•Slice answers: Dozens of readers told about items stolen from their yards and porches.
The list includes flags, holiday ornaments, a big concrete bear, chairs, a bird bath, flower pots, bushes and small trees (they had to be dug up), hoses, a wheelbarrow, all sorts of tools, miscellaneous toys, a wooden tool box with sentimental value, a mailbox, painted landscaping rocks, all sorts of yard art, a decorative deer, a cast-iron tub, a wooden apple crate full of sea shells and fossils, a redwood table, “No War” signs, bird feeders, a small windmill, a plastic squirrel, multiple bikes, eight solar powered lights, a football with sentimental value, a barbecue grill, a fence gate, and security service signs.
Denise Hendrickson once made a casserole that she was going to take to a retreat. She placed it on the front porch and then went back inside her house for a moment. When she came out again, the casserole was gone.
And Diana Lawson had a friend who tried to get rid of an old refrigerator by putting it in his yard with a “Free” sign. There were no takers.
Then he tried a different sign. The new one said, “For Sale: $25.”
“Sure enough, someone stole the refrigerator in the middle of the night.”
•The kid probably meant “gasket”: A student recently told a friend of mine who works at Mead Middle School, “Don’t blow a casket.”
•True or false: The Slice has heard that teachers of a certain age have a hard time registering fingerprints because the volume of paper they handled over the years all but filed down their fingertips.
•Slice answer: “When did I learn who my friends are?” wrote Steve Trapp. “When my late wife was killed, I learned that my real friends were willing to be with me and listen to my expression of grief. I also learned that those friends (and relatives) of less depth wanted to tell me what to do and when to do it rather than listen.”
•Today’s Slice question: Are you noticing a breakdown of basic courtesy when it comes to wrong-number phone calls?
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