Saturday, December 9, 2017
The English language has many peculiar idiosyncrasies. This is a story about how, as a young man, I solved one of those peculiar mysteries.
During my youth, I spent my summers on Grandpa’s farm. One day Grandpa handed me the halter of a cow, and instructed me to take the cow to my uncle’s farm down the lane, to have her ‘serviced.’ So I led Bessy down the lane, handed the halter to my uncle, and said “Grandpa wants this cow serviced.” Then I asked my uncle, “What does this here ‘service’ mean? He replied, “Sonny, you’re too young to know.” So I sat a spell on a milk stool outside the barn. Before long I began to hear poor Bessy’s traumatic bellowing.
Being more curious than cautious, I walked around to the rear of the barn, so I could peek in the window and see whatever was happening. The window was rather high, so I climbed up on a nearby hay bale in order to peer in. The window was too dirty for me to see anything, so I rubbed a small peek hole on the window with my sleeve, and peered inside.
Now I KNOW what this here word ‘service’ means. And I now KNOW what the Public ‘Service’ employees in Washington DC are doing to the American people!
This story is told with posthumous apologies to Will Rogers for minor edits.
Posted by Sam and Bunny Sewell at 9:26 PM