Moor Moormanism
Strange Dogs
I was told by someone that strange dogs pass my house. When you are lost and all alone, strange is the word. Strange ways, strange ideas, strange thoughts.
When our dads and grandfathers had a conviction, their word was their bond. They didn’t have much, and if they were strange, their word was good. Most of them repaid what they borrowed.
A thief is a strange one. I wonder how fine friends who are thieves get along.
I could go on about strange dogs. I recall two good old men in my bygone days, and there were many others. One of the two was Jim Mansell and the other was Taylor Smith. Once a man stole six chickens from Jim Mansell and Jim’s friends tried to get him to say a thing against this thief. All Jim would say was, “Well, he stole my six hens but he left me the rooster.” Six hens was just about all Jim had.
He died in the early 30’s. Rotten as people are getting, old Jim Mansell shouldn’t be lost to the world, and those two graves are not marked in Knight’s Prairie Cemetery. I think I’ll buy old Jim a monument and the epitaph will be: “
Ole Jim Mansell. Died in the 30’s. Never said a thing against any man and he talked all the time. Lived by the side of the road and was a friend of man. Never had a dime unless someone gave him one, and wanted nothing much more under the sun.
Ira E. (Hank) Moorman
This was under the heading of More Moormanism. He took the word or topic of strange and just felt like writing about it. I wonder what spurred him to write about it?

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