Pat Culverhouse
Pat Culverhouse

Memory gates have opened wide and it all started with a parade Tuesday.

YHO remembers the first time he stood on a sidewalk in downtown Minden as bands marched twelve-to-the-ten with horns blaring and drums ratatatting while sweater-clad pep squadders shook their pom-poms.

Assorted beauty queens who quickened the seven-year-old heart of the Sibley kid rode in convertibles big enough to qualify as buses and horses sporting dressed-to-the-nines cowboys and cowgirls pranced past with hooves clicking rhythm on brick streets. And then there was that big ol’ fire truck.

That first parade was something special. Even in the cultural center of the universe, the fabled Golden Triangle, YHO had seen nothing like it unless you count the time D.B. clung for dear life to the hood of the car driven by Mrs. D.B. as she drove pell mell out of town, honking the horn each time a wheel turned.

“Didn’t know she could drive,” my dad deadpanned after Mother told him what she and I witnessed on the highway that ran past the post office.

The parade was fascinating, but the fair itself was an event. Even the mother person’s strictly enforced hand-holding rule couldn’t dim the mind-probing neon lights or muffle the sounds of barkers barking and calliope style music delivering a cascade of sound to every inch of the midway. And the smells: only Rose’s kitchen could match the quality and quantity.

To the young first-timer, it seemed a thousand people roamed acres and acres of fairground and rode a hundred different rides. Future fairs may not have seemed as magnificent as the first, but each provided its unique experiences.

We country kids looked forward to the day off from school and the bus ride to the fairground on our special student day. YHO remembers vividly the year nickels, dimes and quarters found a home in a large pickle jar beside the bed. This would be next year’s fair fund. Fair time finally rolled around and the buffalo-head nickels and lady liberty dimes and quarters were loaded into a leather pouch.

Fortunately, wiser heads (and stronger hands) prevailed and yours truly unloaded all but $5 for rides and eats.

Although my desired amount was about three times higher, at 10-cents a ride and about a quarter for a four-course fair meal I had enough to last the run of the event. I try not to think of today’s worth of those coins; only yesterday’s entertainment value. Priceless.

One of the fun things about a watching parade is watching the faces, especially those of the youngsters. Nothing beats the smile of a child, unless it’s an adult who understands the richness in it.

The Hillary Clinton Show

How about that first episode of the new CBS mega-hit drama destined to be the number one show in the universe, at least through November, 2016? We’re talking “Madam Secretary” and it’s no accident that the cute blonde, pants suit-wearing, no-nonsense-taking, two-fisted, tough as nails yet tender as ducky down, super intelligent dynamic leader bears an uncanny resemblance to the Clinton lady.

This not-so-mythical secretary of state in the not-so-mythical administration of a Democratic president who chose the Tea Leoni cast character Elizabeth McClinton, oops, sorry, Elizabeth McCord because she is able to handle anything, up to and including, the presidency.

If anyone had any doubt that CBS was putting the polish on Clinton via the standard Hollywood “If we disagree with history, we’ll change it via television, no matter how sickenly we bow, scrape and pander,” Sunday’s upcoming episode is all the proof necessary.

Titled “Another Benghazi,” please be assured the drone Clinton McCord will correct all mistakes of the first Benghazi and then convince viewers what they just saw is what really happened. The four individuals killed in the real Benghazi never existed. The real secretary’s reputation emerges intact and her presidential campaign moves on.

About the only accuracy where “Madam Secretary” is concerned is the scene from the pilot episode which showed us the pretend Hillary getting her “only you can help America” phone call from the president while she was cleaning out pony fertilizer from the horse barn.

Hillary the Real has been shoveling up horse hockey and telling people it’s chocolate pudding since her days as first lady, second fiddle in Arkansas. She’s no longer second fiddle, but she still has the shovel. The only difference … the shovel is a heckuva lot larger, thanks to CBS.

Thought of the day: A friend said he thought it would be great if we had a third legitimate political party. I’d be happy if there were two.

Pat Culverhouse is a journalist and political columnist for the Minden Press-Herald. You may contact him at pat@press-herald.com.

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