Handling thieves in the good ole days

To the editor:

I’m sitting here, pondering this jail issue. I’m 85 years old and probably don’t have many more years to go.

I like to remember the old days when I was about 10 years old.

There wasn’t much to buy. We raised our own food on the farm. We had a lot of rough days but you know what? Our daddy got us to go to Sunday school every Sunday and church.

The only thieves I can remember were at night. We would be awakened by barking dogs and squawking chickens. Someone might be stealing a sack of roasting ears from our cornfield or a few hens from the hen house.

Dad got up, grabbed his old shotgun, aimed it above the field, and fired it. We could see dust fly and car lights go on. It was a race to town.

Wow. What excitement to talk the next day. We knew every one of them. The next Sunday, they would be singing in the choir.

Dads and moms, take your young children to church to learn what God says about stealing.

Bea Klein
Marion