February 24, 1964.
Jocie Brooke here reporting from Main Street, Hollyhill. I think I’m going to have to expand my reporting area. Main Street has been more than usually dull this week. Nothing, I mean nothing going on. Nobody even tried to park without putting nickels in the parking meters. The police chief had absolutely nothing to do but drink coffee with the mayor up at the Grill. I told Dad he ought to write an editorial about how Hollyhill should pay the mayor by the hour instead of a salary. And only the hours he actually works. But Dad says more work might be going on than I can see. That sometimes things happen over coffee that might never happen at a City Council meeting. Besides, he’s not the kind of editor who stirs up trouble just for the sake of stirring up trouble.
Wes told him it might sell a few more newspapers. I have to agree with that. Our headline story this week was some guy who brought in turnips that were big as bowling balls. Thank goodness, he wanted to take them home and didn’t give them to Dad. The only thing worse than boiled cabbage is cooked turnips!
See, I told you there was no news in Hollyhill this week. Definitely nothing strange. I’ve given up finding out who sent Zella flowers. She hasn’t. She whips out her red lipstick every time she sees a possible candidate for her secret admirer coming through the newspaper office door, but so far nobody has given the first sign of being “the one.” I’ve about decided Dad sent them to give her something to think about other than new reasons to fuss about me. I have to admit I don’t make her think too hard. Wes and I are still laughing about that fit she had over the fake spider in her pencil drawer.
Dad threatened to not let me come to the office for a week after that, but he relented after I wrote Zella an apology. I’m pretty good with words, so I didn’t have any trouble sounding sincere. I hope Dad doesn’t read this or I’ll be in trouble all over again. He says the Bible is pretty plain on how we ought to tell the truth and be good to our neighbors. He’d tell me Zella was my neighbor, but she lives clear over on the other side of town. Thank goodness!
So things are the same old same old in Hollyhill this week. But it was a great day with lots of sunshine and the wind kept the flags flying pretty up at the post office. Dad says we should look for blessings every day. Guess they would be easier to find than something strange in Hollyhill.
Remember, this is your last chance to throw your name in the giveaway hat. I’m drawing for the three winners this weekend. Can’t wait to send you Scent of Lilacs. Then you’ll understand about Zella and about me. And I’ve been told a newsletter is about to go out with more prizes to celebrate my book. Nothing too strange about any of that, but fun.
See you next week. I think I’ll take a trip down to the bridge over the river. Not so strange, but Dad says it’s got history. Hope that doesn’t scare you off – me threatening to write about history. I wouldn’t blame you. History in school puts me right to sleep. We have this teacher we call Round Brown. From what I can see, I don’t think he likes history either.
February 24, 1964.