Page 7 - Super Cowboy Rides Again
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far more important than helping Grandma.
Take the Fisherman’s Breakfast, for instance. It
was always on the first Friday right after school got
out—the Friday before Memorial Day. I had just
graduated from first grade with flying colors, even
though my entry into it hadn’t been too great, and I
wanted to go to the Fisherman’s Breakfast. I wanted to
go, not because I enjoy waiting in a line to get some
burnt hash browns and doughy pancakes, but because
Smokey Bear was going to be there. I had always
wanted to meet Smokey.
Dad said he’d take me to the Fisherman’s
Breakfast and then drop me off at Grandma’s house to
help her with a little incident that had happened the
night before. I didn’t know what that “incident” was,
and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But by asking to
go to the breakfast, I had unwittingly volunteered for
Grandma’s work duty.
The Fisherman’s Breakfast was always a big affair
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