Most communities have a local wit who keeps the stories coming and everyone entertained, usually at a country store. There was one where I grew up. He bought a new car, and when asked about the mileage per gallon of gas, he said he did not know. He did volunteer, “Every time I step on the accelerator, it was like flushing a commode.”

As a farmer, we said his tobacco crop was so sorry that the budworms had to get on their knees to eat. As a side venture to his farming operation, he tried raising cattle. Feed was costly, and the cows stayed hungry. One day, they were so hungry, he went to the pasture with a corn shuck in his pocket and returned home with half of the herd following him back, sniffing the shuck.

One of his better stories involved his grandchildren, who at the time lived in a large town faraway. In the middle of August, a car stopped in his driveway. Two little kids jumped out, each with a small suitcase. After the usual greetings, one of them said, “Granddad, we are going to stay until Christmas.” His answer was, “Well, come on in, and hang up your stockings. Santa Claus is coming tonight.”

Times have changed, country stores are scarce and air conditioning keeps people off the front porch; however, I guess that there are those wits still around. Maybe, they just meet at Hardee’s or similar places early in the morning to have a cup of coffee and swap tales.