When I was a teenager in the mid 1930's we had a billiard table in the basement of our farmhouse. Kids from the Meriden area liked to come out to our place to play billiards. Sometimes they'd show up late Sunday morning and spend the afternoon playing billiards.

One Sunday morning Buster, a shy boy who lived with his sister and her husband on the farm to the west [the Gerber Place], came by extra early. We still had chores to do. He was early, but we figured that he must have come to play billiards. 

He followed us to the milk barn and hung around while we milked the cows and separated the cream. Then he followed us back to the house and sat down to visit.

Mom called breakfast and Dad said, "Buster, you might as well eat breakfast with us. Then the boys can take you downstairs for a game of billiards."

Buster said, "No, I'd better get home. The family is going to Clay Center today. I should go home and take a bath before we leave."

We had an up-to-date shower in our basement, so Dad said, "Well, while we're eating, you could shower in the basement."

Buster said, "No, I can bathe at home, if my sister ever gets out of the tub. She's been in there all morning."

Dad offered again, "You might as well shower here."

Buster thought a moment. "Well, I guess I could use your shower," he said. Then he pulled a towel and a bar of soap from his overalls and started downstairs--after having politely waited for a neighborly invitation!

He headed toward home, fresh and ready for a Sunday drive, before the rest of us finished our breakfast.

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