The Social Event of the (Pheasant) Season

Dad about fell over this morning when I showed up at the annual Lions Club Pancake Feed in my hometown today — I hadn’t told anyone I was coming to Kansas. I myself didn’t know for sure until Thursday at 11:16 p.m.

The pancake feed is one of the biggest social events of the year. It always falls on opening day of pheasant season. It’s the one day where all the busy bee men in Lions Club get together, set up their massive grills, gather all their ingredients, and prove to their wives that the CAN cook.

That’s Verlyn there with the flipper.

Pancake 210

And the rest of the community — along with visiting hunters — join them at the fire department for a 6.5 hour long breakfast. Freewill donation, of course.

Pancake 211

Ann picked me up last night at the airport around 10:30, and then we ran errands in Newton (i.e. shuffled bratwurst, pickles and mums from the 4-H building fridge on one side of town to the basement of the courthouse.) It felt sooo good to hit the pillow.

This morning we stopped through McPherson for coffee, poked around the fabric and bead stores, and then headed west for the festivities.

As I said, it took Dad a good 10 minutes to recover from his heart attack. We chatted up all the diners — most of whom I’m related to — and eventually got around to eating yummy pancakes made with a very special ingredient (7-Up).

Pancake 206

And we discussed how the tanks on the fire trucks were custom-made.

Pancake 207

Mom had left the Pancake Feed about half an hour before I arrived, to run the grain cart while Brother DIY was cutting milo. A little bit later, while Dad and I were dining on pancakes, Pastor Tom came over to the table reporting that Mom was having a tractor emergency. So Dad headed to the rescue.

After Ann and I made our rounds at the fire station, we went across the street to the Senior Center to the Methodist Women’s Bazaar, where we chatted with the church ladies about truckers, cassaroles, and the fact that I look identical to Mom.

Eventually Ann took me to the “Lindholm Place” — a field about 2 miles from our house. At that point I was certain someone had spilled the beans to Mom about my presence. But I was wrong. As Mom and Brother DIY were rigging the broken clutch, Dad swooped to pick me up on the road in the combine, and we headed back out in the field to surprise Mom.

I got her good.


2 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    Pastor Tom said,


    Wow, news as it happens!
    Good to see yah!
    In the midst of harvest/planting/tractor breakdowns… pleasant surprises are…
    well… nice!

  2. 2

    Mandy said,

    Miss Nelly,

    hey there, it was nice to see ya again! Funny how everyone around shows up for the pancake feed, huh! lol… I remember Grandpa always being there, along with all the other men.. Have a great evening and be safe going back to Chicago!

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