Dear Smiley: Our Arkansas cousins’ daughter, who had been married previously and has an 8-year-old daughter, had been dating a young man for about a year when he finally popped the question and got a positive response.
So, when he went to our cousins to ask permission to marry their daughter, they responded positively.
But they said he also would have to have the approval of the 8-year-old girl as well.
So, after he asked the young girl if he could marry her mother, she replied, “We were wondering what took you so long.”
Dear Smiley: Bobbie Odom’s story of drugstore newspapers reminded me of growing up in Pass Christian, Miss., in the ’40s and ’50s.
The only drugstore in town, Griffon’s, was, of course, closed Sunday mornings.
It was the only place in town where one could get the Sunday Times-Picayune, the only Sunday paper available.
Those folks wanting to pick up a paper after church would stop at Griffon’s, where there was a large stack of Picayunes by the locked front door.
The custom was that one took a paper and left the price (in those days it was in coin) with the other change on top of the papers.
There was always lots of change lying there, so apparently it wasn’t being stolen.
Do you think that would still work, assuming something was actually closed on a Sunday?
Dear Arthur: I wish I could say it would work today. But, sadly, I don’t think so …
Smirk no more
Dear Smiley: I smirked when I read the item in your column about people who, back in the ’50s, got upset when they couldn’t find their personal newspaper in a stack at a local drugstore.
I know some people also get upset when their paper doesn’t show up on the driveway.
I mentioned to my son how silly it is to get so worked up over such a trivial thing.
He then asked me, “Have you seen yourself when a log-on to your computer fails?”
It’s hard to defend oneself with a mouth full of crow.
The happy place
Dear Smiley: Louisiana gets a bad rap for seeming to be on a lot of “worst” lists.
There is no way we could have made the “10 most depressed states” list.
Our people are too wonderful, our food way too good, and cher, we know how to pass a good time.
MARY J. DAVID
Dear Mary: And, of course, nobody around here is depressed when the Tigers are winning …
Dear Smiley: Your contributors seem to relish words the definition of which are slightly out of the norm.
Here is one that might qualify. It is “downsizing.”
On the face of it, it seems quite straight-forward.
However, my observation is that it really is an excuse.
For example, if one takes five blouses to Goodwill, the notion of downsizing serves as a “justifiable” reason for stopping at a dress shop on the way home in order to buy four more.
(Name withheld out of fear of retribution.)
Dear Jess: Do you really think withholding her name is going to help you? I fear not …
Dear Smiley: I agree with Harriet St.Amant’s comment, “There are distinct advantages to technology!”
But what am I going to do with all the boxes of carbon paper I still have?
Santa Maria, Calif.
Dear Chapman: Maybe there are collectors out there. Try eBay …
Dear Smiley: Please let Della Stout know that the same creep who replaced her blond hair with silver strands also played the same trick on me several years ago.
But, I immediately called my Aunt Clairol, and she has been vigilant in keeping this creep at bay.
Dim Bulb Dept.
Dear Smiley: Your reader comments re: ugly ties suddenly reminded me of the ’50s when it was cool for boys to wear bow ties that had small light bulbs on each wing of the tie that could be triggered to light up.
I couldn’t afford one, so I took one of my dad’s bow ties and a D-cell battery and tried to make one.
It worked — sometimes!
So I junked it and pleaded innocence when my dad asked questions about his missing bow tie.
Now flashing-light bow ties are available on every New Orleans street corner during Mardi Gras!
Once again we learn that what goes around comes around.
Dear Dudley: Mardi Gras? Didn’t I just see you wearing one of those while dining out with Mrs. Dudley?
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.