Sleepy Eye can boast that it once entertained a President of the United States. Can any other city in Brown County make such a statement? That was the time future President Gerald Ford spoke here at the Orchid Inn at a big dinner (700) on behalf of Congressman Ancher Nelsen, Oct. 7, 1968.

I was covering the event as usual for the Journal and the Herald-Dispatch. Ollie Neudecker was on vacation so Roger Smed took the pictures.

Several surplus negatives were still in the files last year when Ollie looked for them to celebrate Ford’s elevation to the Vice Presidency.

Somewhere I read that Gerald Ford sometimes reads the lesson in the Episcopal Church of which the family are members, and that Mrs. Ford teaches Sunday School. But I can’t find that clipping.

++

THURSDAY I gave a good demonstration of how not to make hard-cooked eggs. It was one of those times when “I shoulda stayed in bed.” Cooking the eggs when I could glance at the pan seemed a good idea, so I prepared to do them while I mopped the kitchen floor.

I doomed from the beginning. As I was lifting eggs from the door of the fridge” into a pan, I found an egg which had a shell that disintegrated at touch. I hastily put the pan on the floor while holding the other hand beneath the egg, then scooped the egg into both hands and scuttled to the sink.

Not only did I have to clean the egg shelf but also the shelf below where a variety of small items stood. Finally I put the pan of eggs in cold water on the stove.

That’s not all. Two more disasters were to follow. I started to mop the downstairs washroom and suddenly heard a burbling sound from the kitchen. Those eggs were boiling with enthusiasm. Set them off, turn down the burner, let it cool a minute and put the pan back on it. Sounds simple, doesn’t it?

I went back to mopping. After a while I glanced at the pan of eggs. Not only had I forgot to set the timer, I had not even looked at the clock.

All I can figure is that I was doing such a thorough job on the floor that I was concentrating. Can one concentrate on a mop? That’s not like me.

++

MY BROTHER Herb sends us his Yankee” magazines when he has finished with them. One of their correspondents had this to say. “Oh, somewhere in a favorite spa the TV lights were bright: And men were not laughing, but staring, all uptight. Then most became right cheerful, the joint got really hot; But one old gent sat tearful-when Aaron topped ‘The Swat’.

++

PEOPLE ARE always talking about books by Scott Fitzgerald, and I asked if anyone had read The Plastic Age which he wrote, I believe. Title of the book rings no bell anywhere. It was hot stuff when I was in college and because we could not get hold of a copy one of my classmates got one from her brother who was studying for the priesthood. Today its language would be tame compared to young folks conversation.

Other books of that era were Elinor Glyn’s Three Weeks, and The Green Hat” whose author I can’t recall at the moment.