Throwback Thursday: Butterball and the Chicken Farmer

Throwback Thursday.  Butterball and the Chicken Farmer.

Most evenings my little circle of friends met at the E.M Club about 5 pm, that is when Happy Hour started  But because of rotating duty and other commitments not everybody came every night.  One evening when everybody had something to do me, instead of drinking alone I decided to go to the nearby town or township or Lakewood and see a movie. 

At that time there were no four-lanes to Lakewood, it was all country roads with many farms, including large chicken farms.

At the city limits sign of the township of Lakewood there was  an interesting sign under the city limits sign.  It said, “All criminals must register”.

If a criminal who believes in going by rules  registered, I wonder if there is a special “Criminal Registration” form they would fill out.  Like what crime do  you  specialize in.  They could put in street-mugging; robbing banks; embezzlement; raping, and any other unlawful  activity.

Back to my Throwback Thursday:  Out on New Jersey country roads between Lakehurst and Lakewood I decided to drop in a little roadside bar and grill and have a drink.  I sat at the bar.

Back in the mid-1960s many bars had video jukeboxes.  The video jukeboxes provided the music, you did not to pay for a band and you got the quarters at the end of the night,.

At the bar sitting next to me was a woman who looked like she had lived a hard life and her rough-looking husband who did not smile – he glared.

I, being neighborly, said “Hi” to the couple.  She warmly said “Hi” back.  I asked them did they live around there, she said they did.  Her husband was a chicken farmer.  He nodded his head.  Enough said, he thought.

After a drink she became more talkative.  She said they were there celebrating being married 30 years.  I congratulated them.  She smiled and cried, saying she has been trying to get her husband to dance with her but he wouldn’t.

By then, I felt we were drinking buddies, I jokingly told her husband, “Common Jack, get out and dance with your wife for your anniversary!”

He glared at me and said, “You dance with her Butterball!”

I gave a nervous laugh."Na, I got two left feed."

He said, “I mean it, dance Butterrball!  Dance!  You better!”

I told them to excuse me, nature was calling.  I chuckled as I got off my stool.

I walked towards the restrooms door and then walked past it, out the front door and broke into a run to my car.

And Butterball sped away.