The Farmer’s Son

Farmer Brown's son George went to the big city to make his fortune.

Unfortunately he became a stockbroker, and on last October 20, he found

himself reduced to shining shoes for a living.

At the same time, a run of unusually good weather resulted in an abundance

of late hay down on the farm.

So, in this story, ... the farmer makes hay, while the son shines.

The Hostess

A few years ago my husband and I were invited to a very small dinner party

in honor of Christmas. The hostess was one of those "Martha Stewart" types

and had squares of cheese with a toothpick topping looking like little trees.

"Sam," she says, "why aren't you eating any cheese?"

Knowing my husband couldn't find an elephant in the tub, I explained, . . "He can't see the cheese for the forest."

Ageless

Memorial Day weekend was coming up, and the nursery school teacher took the opportunity to tell her class about patriotism. "We live in a great

country," she said. "One of the things we should be happy is that, in this

country, we are all free."

One little boy came walking up to her from the back of the room. He stood

with his hands on his hips and said, . . . "I'm not free. I'm four."