To the Editor:
This is the cover of one of my books, satirical, sometimes hilarious and sometimes following a journalistic trail of a story that never ends the way it should.
The tales in this book were written in my garret in Colbyville in the 1960s and 1970s. Those were the days before political correctness and my barbed comments were often printed in the Stowe Reporter, 10 miles north. In those columns I roasted Stowe, Ben & Jerry’s, Waterbury and had fun with my neighbors in Colbyville.
A story on a suicide was plain journalism, and how I caught and eliminated a flea attack and the day the pig mounted the sheep were just happenings in Colbyville.
Two weeks ago, I put up a canvas copy of the cover, about 5 by 7 feet, on my sign in front of my house in Colbyville. Two nights later it was stolen. Yep, a felon. I didn’t report it to the police because nothing ever happens with the cops. Oh, they say, “Nothing but a twiddling matter and not worth a blank thought.”
I would give a dozen books to get it back.
Now people laugh at the stories written in an era that brims with nostalgia. Stop by or give a ring at 802-272-8851.