On Sept. 19, we stopped by the American Legion to listen to the music of Oktoberfest. It was furnished by a couple from Astoria. He on the tuba, trumpet and automated percussion; she on the accordion. We didn’t take part in the brats and sauerkraut but loved listening to the schottische, the polka and the waltz. I never learned the polka, although the other two are my favorites. It’s one of the pains of old age that I am no longer able. Still, I’m so thankful that there were many times in the past when Jim and I both could enjoy some great exercise. So many of our friends who shared those times are gone.

The second day of the festival was on Saturday and I’m sure it was successful.

You may have noticed how much we are back in the logging business in Clatsop County. The hills of the coast range have large areas, which have been denuded. Some spots of replanting are noticeable and soon there will be patches of green to cover the brownness by the underbrush. It’s a continuing process of seed time and harvest.

The heat of Sept. 21 was too much for Seaside. The car thermometer said 99 degrees, although I think it was more like 85. I had counted on my house being cool because it always has been in hot weather. This time, I was uncomfortable all night and had to get up to wipe my neck and arms with a damp cloth. It was so debilitating, but fall began as tolerable.

We visited Suzanne Elise on the hot day. As happened before, a large doe passed the window of one of the residents. Following in her wake was a rather large spotted fawn. The spots seemed to be fading. Earlier we had seen A.C. and her master outside. A.C. (adopted cat) was on one of those extending leashes and had just caught herself a tiny shrew. It was animal house at Suzanne Elise. A.C. is a tabby cat and she was doing what comes naturally. I imagine the woods around the neighborhood are full of living creatures.

Two TV programs worthy of note were the Roosevelt series and an old movie “The Torrent.” I saw only two of the Ken Burns’ series on the Roosevelts, but they were mostly the parts I lived through in World War II. I was no FDR fan, though truly, he was a man for the ages and though I knew about the polio, I never caught on ’til later that he was virtually held upright by his aides or relatives, or positioned so his crippled state was never exposed. He truly was a remarkable man. Eleanor may have been more so. Her oft-imitated voice was what I mostly remember, but she did a lot of good we didn’t know about. We got our impressions from her column “My Day.”

The movie I saw was an old Greta Garbo thing called “The Torrent” with Ramon Navarro, a real heartthrob of our time. Of course, it was a dumb picture with a hackneyed plot of unrequited love.

Barbara Hinton’s memorial service, conducted by John Tindell, was a pleasant remembrance. Barbara was dearly loved. Her son Mike gave us a lot of history and read from the family Bible. He also shared with us several poems written by family members to her; a few from her husband Dick, then from children and grandchildren — a tradition, and writings from Barbara herself. It was the best kind of going away service. Debbie Vail sang two beautiful solos: “How Great Thou Art” and “On Eagles Wings.”

A man was seated on an airplane next to a beautiful girl. He asked her what sort of men she liked. “Oh,” she answered, “I like Native Americans with their dark skin and high cheekbones, or I like Jewish men because they’re so brilliant. Finally, I like Southern guys because of their slow drawls and sexy accents. What is your name, sir?”

“Young lady,” he told her, “I’m Geronimo Bernstein, but my friends call me Bubba.”

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