Surf Reporter Alex sent the above photo to me a few days ago, via Facebook. Pretty weird, huh? I’m assuming it’s a white water rafter, or somesuch? I don’t believe it has anything to do with this site. What are your thoughts on it? If you click on it, you’ll get a larger version. Strangeness.
Remember the two unsmiling cops I told you about, a few days ago? The ones who banged on our front door, and asked several accusatory questions? Well… a few nights ago I was at work, and Toney left a message on my phone: “Call me! There’s something going on here. I’m FREAKING out!!” What the??
I called her back, my heart racing again. I get a daily cardio workout, by just being Jeff Kay. Shit! She told me somebody was banging on the front door again, and she didn’t answer. It was after 9 pm, and dark outside. And now there were cops everywhere — cops with rifles. In our back yard, and all over the neighborhood…
Then black trucks began rolling up, and a group of men stormed the house behind us. Toney said all the lights were off inside, and she could see flashlights through the windows. The number of people involved was astounding. Within minutes it was over, and all the police disappeared.
It’s an unnerving thing, all this frantic door-banging. I’m not a fan of it. We found out the next day it was the cops again. They wanted permission to use our deck — to put a couple of sharpshooters up there. Sharpshooters?! Good god! Since Toney didn’t open the door, they just stood under the deck. Freaky, man.
Nobody knew the story — our oldest son talked to the cop at the high school, but he wouldn’t give up any details. Today, however, this article appeared in the paper. So, there you go. Our neighbors. Fun stuff.
And finally, I was thinking about something while driving to work yesterday. When we lived in California, we used to drive to a beach that was nearly deserted. It was beautiful, and was pretty much our own private beach whenever we went there. Sunshine knew about it, somehow. It was for the public, but few people used it.
Anyway, during the drive there we always passed through a town with a big sign that read, “Home of the Doobie Brothers.” This always made me chuckle for some reason. There’s a town near here, called Factoryville, with a sign that says, “Boyhood home of Christy Mathewson.” He was a Hall of Fame baseball player, during the early 1900s. A few years ago, they opened up the house to the public, and I checked it out.
For a Question, I’d like to know about the “Home of” signs you’ve encountered during your life. Does anything come to mind? Please tell us about it in the comments.
And I’ll see you guys again soon.
Have a great day!