The Glacier Reporter

Everyone is asking what it feels like to be a beauty contest judge, a pleasant position I found myself in last weekend.

I think the best answer to that question is a favorite old quotation from grandpa's long list of classic epigrams . . . "Just like a blind dog turned loose in a meat house."

Grandpa, in his reclining years, daily took up his seat in front of the corner grocery store where he had complete surveillance of the entire three blocks of our local broadway - his daily exercise, he used to say.

Through this advantageous position, and through dedicated muscular exercise, he developed a most peculiar sense of eyeball control the community ever saw.

He could hold his head in one position for hours, looking straight ahead, and see everything that went on for fifteen degrees behind the lobe of each ear . . . particularly the activities of pretty young things.

Occasionally one of his old cronies would sit down with him and they would rake over the old coals of yesteryear. Also, occasionally, a group of local beauties would flutter by causing grandpa's pal to nearly break a dormant neck muscle . . . grandpa never turned his head, but oh those eyes. They would roll in the direction of the passing parade until the pupils disappeared where his ear began.

"How would you like to be turned loose with that covey?" his pal would ask.

"Be just like turning a blind dog loose in a meat house and telling him to fetch the best ham," grandpa would reply, without turning his head but bringing his eyes back to the straight, out-front, catch-all position.

Now I know exactly what grandpa used to mean!

As we were preparing to leave the judges bench, one of the judges lingered for a few seconds to look under the table and around the chairs. "Lose something?" I inquired.

"Yeh," he replied, "one of my eyeballs."

Doc King cornered me the other day and asked me to make known the fact that he was no part of the newly organized guide and pack service I mentioned in this column last week. "Being that mine was the only name mentioned, it sounded as if I was a part of it," he explained.

Well, we are mighty sorry to get Doc mixed up with an outfit the likes of this, and we really don't blame him for wanting the situation cleared up . . . Doc and the Mrs. did go over the same trail and found the lake, returning with a nice catch of fish to prove it . . . Maybe the guides should hire Doc as their guide.

We noticed the first new snow on the mountains Tuesday morning. It wasn't much but it was there, and that should be enough to remind us of what is just around the corner.

I tried to explain to my youngsters that the display of northern lights seen last week is usually an indication that cold weather will follow. They sort of poo-pooed the idea and silently indicated that I had better take a rest . . .

I did, for a half hour. I can always sleep better in colder weather.

I feel downright ashamed that I was unable to get out to the Youth Fair to snap a few pictures but this last weekend was a mighty busy one what with the press convention, forest fires and a few other things.

We will make amends the best we can by publishing a complete list of the winners next week.

This is a mighty important function for the rural youngsters and all their leaders, and it is a shame that there isn't more public support. It could, and should be, a much larger event. However, we will refrain from any further criticism, generally, in view of the fact that we didn't do much to help it this year.