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safer.”
    â€œOh, we’ve been whispering; so the next table
can’t hear us,” Barb reassured her. “And, don’t worry, we’re not
saying anything to anybody else. We don’t want anything to happen
to you. You’re much too precious to us,” she said, giving Annie a
hug.
    â€œI’d still feel better if we talk about it
later,” Annie insisted as she smoothed her long jumper over her
knees.
    â€œWe can do that,” Barb replied. Then she
said, “Look, Brad, your dad is coming in.”
    Her husband twisted in his chair, saw his
father at the door of Old Main and jumped up to go and greet him.
“Want to sit with us, Dad? We can squeeze in another chair for
you.”
    As father and son walked over to the gang’s
table, Mr. B declined, “No, I’ll be sitting over there with the
ROMANS.”
    DeeDee knew the ROMANS were Mr. B’s buddies
in the park, but she asked, “Will ya tell me again what those
letters stand fer?”
    Mr. B chuckled, “Retired Old Men At Ninety
Some.
    â€œIs Mom okay?” Brad asked.
    â€œShe’s pretty good, but she didn’t feel like
coming out on a cold morning. She’d rather stay home when her
uncomfortable friend, Arthur Itis, is visiting.”
    â€œHave you got a story for us, Mr. B?” Annie
asked.
    Brad said, “Tell them the one you told me
yesterday about the golfers. That’s a good one.”
    Mr. B thought for a moment, unconsciously
pushed against his upper plate with his tongue, then he began:
“There were these four old men who liked to golf together. But, one
day three of them were full of complaints. The first one griped,
‘These hills are getting steeper as the years go by.’ The second
one said, ‘These fairways seem to be getting longer.’ The third one
belly-ached, ‘The sand traps seem to be bigger than I remember
them.’ After hearing enough from his senior buddies, the oldest and
the wisest of the four of them at 90 years old, piped up and said,
‘Just be thankful we’re still on the right side of the grass!’”
    After a good laugh, Mr. B moved on to sit
with his old friends. Annie then asked DeeDee and Verna, “Will the
two of you help Barb and me after Coffee? We need to decorate Old
Main. It shouldn’t take long for us to take down the winter
decorations and put up the February ones. It’s just for this one
month. The woman who is in charge has the flu; so I promised to do
the decorating for her.”
    â€œWho did you say has the flu?” Verna
asked.
    â€œEdna Evans.”
    â€œI can’t place her.”
    â€œShe’s short, a little over-weight, gray hair
and wears glasses,” Annie said.
    Barb shook her head, “Annie, you just
described most of the women in BradLee!”
    â€œI did, didn’t I?” Annie laughed. “All except
you, Barb, my elegant five-foot ten-inch friend.” She turned to the
men and said, “We need your help too, please.”
    Art shrugged, “Count me in.”
    Doc begged off, “I’ll be cooking all day for
our park dinner tonight.”
    Brad reminded them that he always had a Board
workshop after Coffee on the last Wednesday of the month.
    Von started to excuse himself, saying, “I’ve
got to help Tom-Tom.” Tom-Tom was the chairman of the crew of
volunteers who set up the tables and chairs or took them down in
Old Main, depending on the activity—a dinner, a meeting, or a
dance. He was nicknamed Tom-Tom because his Welsh parents had him
Christened, Thomas Thomas.
    â€œWell, it shouldn’t take you much time this
morning,” Verna reminded him. “You won’t have to take the tables
down since they’ll need them up for the dinnah tonight.”
    â€œTrue,” Von said. “I’ll straighten up the
room, sweep it out; then I’ll come help you.”
    â€œSuch a busy bunch of friends I