The Slice: When kids give you a break because they know you’re elderly

Ever been momentarily confused about the names of the little neighbor kids and had one of them gently try to help you out?

It’s sort of sweet. “Remember when I came to your house on Halloween and you took my picture? My brother wasn’t there.”

Oh, yeah.

“That was me. I’m Jonny. Not Finn.”

OK. Got it now.

When barn cats disappear: A rural reader who asked that I not print her name said The Slice’s list of possibilities missed one explanation.

The cat might have walked about a mile to her place to see if it could get something decent to eat, table scraps to be specific.

Just wondering: How often does this happen to you?

Patsy Wood recalled a time years ago when, looking south, she could see a big fire in Lewiston and, looking north, she could see the northern lights.

“I was living in Johnson, Wash.,” she wrote.

Here’s the thing. I can’t recall having heard of Johnson. Ever. It is south of Pullman.

But maybe no one there has heard of me either, so we can call it even.

Say it, don’t spray it: One more thing about sitting in the backseat when dad flicked cigarette ashes out the car window. Slice readers had previously noted that these ashes would often wind up on the helpless youths seated behind the driver/smoker.

But Joyce Sirucek, referring to this scenario, said there was something worse. Two words: Chewing tobacco.

“My brother and I always fought to see who would sit behind my mother instead of behind by father.”

Slice answer: Jody Hamilton said her husband, Matt Jones, who is retired, wears collared shirts only when they are required at the golf course.

Stepping out: “You sparked one of my oldest memories,” wrote Darlene Norton.

It was the column about riding the bus.

Darlene is in her 70s now. But when she was 5 years old, her aunt picked her up for her first night away from home.

They rode the bus to her aunt’s apartment. Darlene thinks it was in Browne’s Addition.

“It was so exciting. I left my brothers and sisters at home and I was out on the town.”

Don’t you love that?

Today’s Slice question: How many appointments do you already have on your schedule for 2018?

Write The Slice at P. O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210; call (509) 459-5470; email pault@spokesman.com. Karin Carter said she would fake her own death to get out of public speaking.