Back to regular program after one last complaint

Well, no one stopped to pick up my pile of brush and take it a mile down the road for me as my body won’t allow. So much for small town good neighbors. If I had asked, would someone? Maybe. The sign said “Help!” Friends will do it for me, but I wanted to see how bad the cell phone has killed even small towns.

But it is even worse. Before my new neighbor moved in, I watched his house for him, and a few people did steal from his house. I would call in and the PD would take a report. I walked over one day and yep, a few more things stolen in the night, and as I started to cross back across the street, you know, the one where the pedestrians used to have right of way in Lovell? 

Oh, look, a local LEO (Law Enforcement Officer) coming down the street. I’m now halfway across the road, waving my arms and was missed by five inches ­— much to some that are saddened they missed me - laughing - but nonetheless, our protectors nearly hit me and kept on going. Why?

I know it is hard to find police officers these days, so I will go plural versus gender. They were busy texting. Pedestrian crossing the road, right of away, waving arms to report a B&E and nearly run over by a text driving LEO. And it gets worse. 

I am driving home down Main Street and, oh look, a mom, pushing a buggy with baby and her hand in hand pulling a young child trying to cross the street. But she can’t cross, not even halfway any more, with no center divide and no one stopping until I did (No, I’m not tooting my horn but fact). I even stopped traffic so she could cross. She hurried across and yelled “Thank you.” I waved thanks to the folks I stopped and went on home. 

Why was that worse? Because driving down Main Street in front of me and not stopping was the same texting LEO of Lovell. They didn’t stop to help the lady cross, no overhead lights, nadda. Sad!

That’s it, folks, no more rants. If David is good enough to publish my next stories, it will be about how Debra became known as Storage Space and the time my roommate and friend Ignaton tried to open his locker with an M16 machine gun — and failed.