The tornado in Picher, Oklahoma. Okay, obviously I’m on a Jim Cantore kick here. We have been interested in watching Jim since “back in the day” and one time my son saw him behind a desk and exclaimed, “Look, it’s Jim Cantore in a building!” Now, that was news.

Hey, THIS (and HERE is the actual site page where you can enter a year) is a cool place to visit if you are interested in history. I’ve been sitting here plugging in ancestors’ names and seeing where they fall on the list of popular names for that year. Ida was popular when my great-aunt Ida was born. When I was in high school, there wasn’t one Ida in my whole class. Hey, I forgot to check my name . . . Okay, my name wasn’t popular then; I knew that.* However, the list looks as if it were taken from my class yearbook.

*Around number 500 on the list for girls; close to 600 on the list for boys.

Quentin, you were around 400; and, Robert, you were 5 – but then you were named for your grandpa. Bing, tell your buddy he was, I think, 10.

Well, a couple of the patrons at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse, who are actually more family than patrons, have gotten whiff of the little chatter I’ve had going here at The Leaning Cow. I suppose it was unwise of me to provide free wi-fi.

To tell the truth, yes, a couple did get whiff of it – but they didn’t hesitate to share the news with the regulars and it has been interesting around here. And surprising. People have started reminding me of things in their lives – like the funny things their kids or grandkids have done. Or the time the road washed out and the triplet red-headed Grady girls were born just shy of Two Tree Pass on the old Jamison Road. They called in the medic helicopter and the pilot landed in the barley field and took mother and babies to the regional hospital. Dad Grady got through when Dick Smith dirtied up his new Hummer to make his way up the washout to pick him up . . .  Stories like that, dontcha know.

Joan is even talking about getting a new picture of our cow that leans and came right out and said we ought to give her a name. I said I thought her name was the leaning cow  – kind of generic like – but she’s bound and determined to get a committee organized to decide on a name. Of course, that is reassuring to me since the cow will probably be in a heavenly pasture by the time the committee agrees on who’s doing what, let alone a name.

Dustin was sipping his cola and munching his jelly crunch foldover when he wondered if maybe people wouldn’t be able to leave their stuff on their regular tables anymore. I told him I didn’t think he had anything to worry about . . . especially with Friday, our dog who pretty much guards things. Well, he doesn’t so much as guard as remind – bark, bark . . . you’ve left your hat – bark, bark . . . time to pick up the kids from cheerleading, football, basketball, baseball, you-name-it practice – bark, bark – time to jiggle the finicky mechanism on the ice machine.

Which was an issue Susan broached: “If you’re going to be telling what’s going on here at the PBC&R, won’t we get in trouble for having Friday in here? Him being a “dog” and all.” Friday gave her a bit of a look right at this time and she nodded to him and said, “Now, Friday, you know I didn’t mean anything by that.”

We decided that it isn’t going to be a problem because, well, nobody here is actually going to acknowledge seeing him and Friday has agreed to act as if he is unaware of anyone when a stranger pops in. He let us know he’ll be so inconspicuous, people who thought they saw him would think he was a Wednesday.

Some of the folks think I should fancy the place up a bit, but heck, I’m just going to leave things as they are. And that includes the screen door out to the porch. It’s wooden and a little warped and you kind of have to give it a little kick to get it moving. Course, on the other had a good breeze and a strong spring will make it slam loud enough to get your attention and fast enough to hit you in the butt.

And that would be the end of this update.

I found this in a drawer where I keep special things from the past; I can’t remember what the letters stand for, but I’ll bet someone does.

Aha, I watched a movie filmed in the mode of a portable video and did not puke. My eyes, however, feel a little strained. My grandson came out and said a couple of times, “You feel like you’re right there.” Fortunately, I did not and so was not scared out of my gourd. Although the little things that came from the monster quickened my heart and almost brought me to the “looking away” point.

I don’t know if Cameron will ask me what I thought of the ending or not. I hope not because I have trouble when people apply logic to something that is made up. I will tell him that someone thought up the plot and told it and they reached a point where they stopped. He will ask me again about the ending. I know this. He is not big on my suggestion to just make up his own following scenes.

There is always the Just Woke up from a Monster Nightmare final bit. Oh, wait, that is next to the final bit. The final, final bit is when the person is so thankful it was a dream and you see a big monster eye looking in their high rise apartment window behind them.

Yes, yes, yes . . . YES!!!  We just stopped by to check the weather for today – although we can see it is raining – and saw featured Jim Cantore video moments. Woo Hoo. I certainly hope this link stays in service.

GO JIM!!!!!!!!

People who frequent the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse want to weigh in on an upcoming topic two weeks in advance. We do not put plastic flowers on the graves of our loved ones on Memorial Day. Never, ever. Some of us, quite frankly, judge those who do. Maybe we shouldn’t, but still, we think even a handful of wildflowers or a 99¢ geranium is a better way to say, “I remember.”

I walked behind the mower today and then walked behind the vacuum cleaner; I prefer the lawnmower, although it is harder to push and a great deal harder to turn. I don’t have a self-propelled one now because our yard is just so small and so many things to go around. So, yeah, in the strong heat of summer I mow a little bit and then rest . . . and make sure I drink frequently. But today was okay to mow – and I did.

I have been mowing for decades – starting with a reel mower. Sometimes looking at the grass in front of the mower, I could be 12 or 59. It’s not that I don’t think of current things when I mow  – it is just that there are times when all I am aware of is the line of mowed grass and unmowed in front of me, of the smell of it.

I feel I am just a little closer to the people who went before me in my family, doing this basic sweaty work.

This is the beginning or the 2008 version of Emory Feller’s Honorary Garden. Mr. Feller has had a garden in this spot since 1941. Well, that’s the year they moved here; I’m not sure it was early enough in the season to plant that year. He planted a garden every year and he and Kathryn did lots of canning.

Last May, Emory had a stroke and has been unable to be here at home in Kendallville. His 96th birthday is July 21st and this year there will still be a garden, although not as elaborate as the years he was in charge.

His neighbor to the west is planting carrots and something else – I am going to have to check this out – and we are setting out tomato plants. Emory told Kathryn it would probably be okay to do so by May 15th – past the danger of frost time. Kathryn thinks three or four plants should provide us with all the tomatoes that we want to eat. I think I’ll put out some cherry or grape tomatoes as well.

We’ll be heading over to Albion to see him this afternoon – Mrs. Feller and I. Maybe I’ll print this picture off for him. I probably won’t take a picture of my tomato plants; I don’t have a green thumb and he would have to shake his head and say with a smile, “Ah, AmeliaJake . . . AmeliaJake . . . ”

Guess I’ll go read up on the care and nourishing of tomato plants in Northern Indiana gardens.

Last evening I looked at the TV listings and saw that Planet of the Apes was on American Movie Classics at 8 pm. At first I just made note of it and then it started to play around in my mind. That was a film from a time when we couldn’t fast forward to see a favorite scene, or play it over and over. We had one shot at it. “Get your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape!” And one chance for the Statue of Liberty in the sand.

Anyway, I decided to watch it and set myself up a comfy little place to do so. Then, the station that started out with no commercials and went to some and then a lot, became today’s version of the WGN late show of the ’80’s. I made it through the first of the movie and sets of commercial “breaks” but zonked out before they  even set off for the Forbidden Zone.

AMC,  damn you. Damn you all to hell.