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From a side window of the
house I could see a rather nice looking middle aged man step up to the door
to ring the doorbell. He attire was western with the traditional Stetson
hat. The trousers he wore were the dress clothing of a cowboy. They were not
the Levi's but were of a tan color and decorated around the front pockets
with the top stitching of that design. This told me he was someone with
authority. The common blue jeans were the costume of the average person.
“Answer the door, Honey!
Someone here to see you.” I called to my husband.
The conversation was clipped
and short. “The man pulled a card from his pocket and thrust it at my
husband with a quick flick of his wrist much as someone would pull a weapon.
“Harpo back here does not want you to step on his property.”
My husband's reply was as
short, also. “I haven't been on his property.”
“He wants you to know he has
leased the land behind you.”
“Oh? Well, good! Maybe he
will mow it instead of burning it and my place as well. He's already been
fined one thousand dollars for trying to burn out the Indian family next to
me.”
The law officer turned to
leave as quickly as he came. He waved his hands beside him as if washing
them and shaking off the water. “I'm not getting into neighborhood fights.
This isn't Ponca City. It is Osage county. Too, big for me to get involved
in stuff like this.” The man was gone as quickly as he arrived.
My mind went back to the
years before. “Hmmm. Harpo again! Oh well. I guess it is time for him, it
has been a while. I know I shouldn't laugh but the childlike shenanigans of
the man were funny, I couldn't help thinking.
There was the time Mr.
Winston, another neighbor, had called. “I can't get excited with this heart
condition.” He asked. “Will you call Harpo and tell him he has to move
those hogs. We can't even step out the back door the stench is so terrible.”
“I know. It is bad. We do
have it our covenant for no hogs. I don't think he will listen to me. But, I
will try.”
Sure enough. I might as well
have been talking to the wind.
“Yeah, you blankity blank
Indians over there.” Mr Harpo minced no words.
“Is that the problem, Sir?
You don't like Indians?”
The surly man wasn't bashful.
“As a matter of fact I don't like gut-eaters.” He came right out with his
true feelings.
Of course, the profanity went
all over me but the racial slur came right up close behind as far as insult
goes.
I tried to summon up as much
of my lady like decorum as possible. “Mr. Harpo. Excuse me, Sir. I will
have a gentleman call you.” And, with this I hung up the phone.
Mrs. Winston later told me
her husband had called Harpo. “You best move the hogs, Harpo. You have a
farm where they can go. I will give you twenty-four hours before calling the
Health authorities.”
“I wondered why the hogs were
gone in such a sort time.” I remembered telling Mrs. Winston while trying
not to laugh.
Then there was the time an
arrow from a high powered bow came flying over the fence to land close to my
feet. That is another story, though. I couldn't help but think, then. “Is
this ever a reversal of roles!” |
