OCR Text |
Show Twisters . . . 2 guessed a beginner like me would win the racers' raffle afterward? Besides the $100.00 from Grand Island Thrift and Loan, I won a slick new racing bike (Schwinn Voyageur, 26 lbs., with Diacompe 500 G sidepull brakes and a jet black frame). The prize also included a racing helmet, an aluminum bike pump, and three packages of Fruit-of-the- Loom underwear, which I gave to Arthur because he wears a men's small. Now that's the kind of day that ought to have a tag on it. It could read: THIS IS A RED-LETTER DAY 1. Dress appropriately 2. Practice looking humble 3. Comb your hair, in case of photographers Now that I'm older and more experienced, I know there are black-letter days as well as red-letter ones. Those BIGGEES, the real blockbusters that mess up your life, aren't marked on the calendar, either. You never know ahead of time when you're getting one of those. If I had my way--if I were in charge of the world, as Dad sometimes says-- the black-letter days would be announced, for sure. I've thought about that a lot. What if God or someone actually did send out doomsday letters via the postal service? Wouldn't that be something? Say you wake up to a nice, regular day. Everybody's in a good mood, a perfuray breeze is swinging in from the south. La-de-da! Then you go out to bring in the mail. "What's this?" you gasp, staring at a black envelope in your hands, You rip it open, trembling all the way to the elbows. |