The Weekly Newspaper serving the citizens of Morenci, Mich., Fayette, Ohio, and surrounding areas.

  • KayseInField
    IN THE FIELD—2004 Morenci graduate Kayse Onweller works in a test plot of wheat in Texas. She’s part of Bayer CropScience’s North American wheat breeding program based in Nebraska, where she completed post-graduate work in plant breeding and genetics.
  • Front.winner
    REFEREE Camden Miller raises the hand of Morenci Jr. Dawgs wrestler Ryder Ryan as his opponent leaves the mat in disappointment. Morenci’s youth wrestling program served as host for a tournament Saturday morning to raise money for the club. Additional photos are on the back page.
  • Front.bank.2
    SHERWOOD STATE Bank opened its Fayette office at a grand opening Friday morning, drawing a large crowd to view the renovated building. Above, Burt Blue talks to teller Cindy Funk, while his wife, Jackie, looks around the new office. The Blues missed the opening and took a quick tour on Tuesday. Few traces remain of the former grocery store and theater, however, part of the original brick wall still shows in the hallway leading to the back of the building. The drive-through window should be ready for customers later in the month.
  • Front.carry.casket
    CARRYING—Riley Terry (blue jacket) and Mason Vaughn lead the way, carrying an empty casket outside to the hearse waiting at the curb. Morenci juniors and seniors visited Eagle Funeral Home last week to learn about the role of a funeral director and to understand the process of arranging for a funeral.
  • Front.lift
    MORENCI student Dalton McCowan puts everything into a dead lift attempt Saturday morning during the Wyseguy Push/Pull event. Lifters helped raise more than $1,600 for the family of the late Devin Wyse, a former Morenci power-lifter who graduated last year. Commemorative T-shirts are still available by contacting teacher Dan Hoffman.
  • Front.make.three
    FROM THE LEFT, Landon Wilkins, Ryan White and Logan Blaker try out their artistic skills Saturday afternoon at the Morenci PTO’s first Date to Create event. More than 50 people showed up to create decorated planks of wood to hang from rope. The event served as a fund-raiser for miscellaneous PTO projects. Additional photos are on the back of this week’s Observer.
  • Front.F.office
    NEW OFFICES—Fayette village administrator Steve Blue speaks with tax administrator Genna Biddix at the new front desk of the village office. Village council members voted to use budgeted renovation funds targeted for the old office and instead buy the vacant bank building on the corner of Main and Fayette streets. The old office was sold to Sherwood State Bank. When everything is put into place in the spacious new village office, an open house will be scheduled. Council member David Wheeler donated all of his time needed to make changes in the bank interior to fit the Village’s needs.

2007.11.14 Is there alligator poop in your soup?

Written by David Green.

 

By COLLEEN LEDDY

Is it common knowledge that women marry their fathers and men marry their mothers? Supposedly, women tend to choose husbands who exhibit traits similar to their own fathers and men choose partners similar to their mothers.

I haven’t really given that theory much thought in my own marriage except to notice that David and I don’t seem to have followed this subconscious method of selecting a partner.

David is not at all like my father, and that’s a good thing because copious amounts of alcohol ingestion turned my father into somebody I would in no way want to marry. The list of my father’s bad traits stretches so long and far, David could live several lifetimes and never catch up.

A few weeks ago, David mentioned something about his father worrying about needing to get his eaves troughs cleaned out. I share that same characteristic with Bob: a propensity to worry. Give me any situation and I can contemplate every manner of thing that could go wrong.

“You married your father,” I said, reflecting on that one trait. “I married my mother and that’s a darn good thing.”

My mother was kind, sweet, quiet, responsible, well-disciplined, fiscally responsible, a hard worker who loved to sing and dance.

Had I married my father I would have been stuck with a womanizing arrogant alcoholic, and a beer-bellied bigot to boot. Needless to say, my father was not a pleasant man, and the finest thing my mother ever did was leave him.

David always keep things in perspective and can always make me laugh about the things that make me worry.

The same day I told David he married his father, I recounted an incident from that afternoon that made me think early Alzheimer’s was setting in.

I was in a hurry, driving to the post office, when I saw Kenneth, one of the teens who helped out at the library this summer, walking up the block near the post office. I waved enthusiastically to him and half way down the block realized I had driven right by the post office. I had to drive all the way around the block and I got out of the car just as Kenneth was walking by—so then I had to explain to him I was losing my mind.

“I married my grandmother,” David concluded.

But that wasn’t all. Earlier that day, I was wearing two cardigan sweaters, one had buttons and the other buttonholes. I tried to snap my gray cardigan onto to the buttonholes of my white sweater.

“Yeah, I married my grandmother,” said David, with even more conviction.

Even my dreams are crazy.

Monday evening when I was taking a nap before going to the Observer office, I dreamed that I came home and found David and his brother Dan—and two alligators.

“Who let the alligators in?” I kept asking and Dan finally admitted that he had.

He felt sorry for them because it was getting cold outside. I kept saying the alligators had to go. They were scaring the heck out of me. Every time I turned around there one lay. And I knew there was a third baby alligator and it was nowhere to be seen.

At some point one of the alligators pinned David against the wall by the bathroom and threatened to bite him.

 I was in that half-dream half-sleep state in which I didn’t know what was real. But my dream half was getting scary and my sleep half didn’t want to find out what was going to happen next so I pulled myself out of slumber—to the overwhelming smell of alligator poop.

 As I entered full awakeness and awareness I realized what it was—broccoli soup. I had made it for dinner and the smell of steamed broccoli and the smoked provolone cheese I’d grated into the soup had created quite an odor.

As I wrote down the details of the dream before they dissipated altogether, I heard the little ding indicating a new e-mail had arrived. It was David writing from the office, wondering where I was.

“I just woke up from an hour nap in which I had the most bizarre dream,” I emailed back. “I take it the alligators didn't eat you?”

“I'm missing an arm, dagnabbit,” he wrote back, not missing a beat.

I married a comedian.

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