Last night, Farmer H plopped himself on the front porch steps around 5:00. I was in the middle of making his supper, and while it heated, I sat in the La-Z-Boy, with a clear view outside. I also heard Farmer H talking. At first, I thought maybe he was conversing with Jack and my Sweet, Sweet Juno. Sometimes he does that, when I'm in earshot. Probably so he might trick me into thinking he's a nice guy. I could see Jack every now and then, putting his front feet on a step and looking at Farmer H.
Farmer H talked so much, with a give and take like a conversation, that I thought maybe HOS had stopped by, or our neighbor had walked over to visit. But I didn't hear any other voice. Then I thought maybe he was talking to the #1 Son on the phone. He wasn't holding it to his ear. But I think some of these newfangled gargets work without doing that.
He finally came into the house (by turning the front door knob that STILL hasn't been fixed) and said he'd been talking to his brother. Farmer H is a middle child. His older brother, Leroy, passed away about 10 years ago. His name was actually Something Something Leroy Lastname, but he went by Leroy. His first name is the same as The Pony's given name, which was the name of Farmer H's dad. The second name is one that I've never heard used as a name before, but rather something that somebody might throw three coins in. I don't know where Leroy came from, but that's all anybody ever called him. Even people at Newmentia who had know Farmer H's family referred to him as Leroy.
The brother Farmer H was talking to on the phone is the youngest. I've only met him once, when he came to visit at my $17,000 house in town, back when the #1 Son was a toddler. He lived in Las Vegas for a long time, working at one of the casinos. Circus Circus, I think. No. He wasn't a showgirl or anything. He worked in security. Now he's driving a truck. Farmer H has put in standing orders with Bro to be notified when he goes through Missouri. He figures he can adjust his newly-reduced work schedule to meet Bro, and catch up on old times.
Last night, Bro was in Illinois. He said he'd be coming through Missouri late at night, but with the stormy weather and Farmer H's work week, a meeting at this time was not feasible. They'll make a connection, though. Bro sent Farmer H a picture. I should probably put it on my more-trafficked blog, since it goes along with a running theme I have over there. But I don't want too much identifying info out there.
Here's the picture:
I know you can't see it very well here. I can enlarge it on my phone. That sign is exit marker 149, saying that it's one mile to Le Roy, Illinois. That oval above it is a cloud. As Bro told Farmer H in the text, "Hello, Leroy."