Posse Man

Posse Man

The word posse may conjure up men on horses riding hard across a hot dusty plain trying to catch up with, oh I don't know, maybe Jesse James. Sweat stained Stetson shield their eyes from the glaring sun as they race toward a phantom they may necver catch. That was not the case yesterday evening as I set out to join the posse. We assembled at Louisberg to assist in traffic control for the Old Settlers Reunion. Grant you the sun was hot and seemed at times to set on your shoulder. Patience was number one priorty for the people we encountered for at times for whatever reason some are not a hundred percent cooperative. The handicap needed special attention of which we gladly provided, and over all just about everyone were nice people. After about four hours in the scorching sun and three bottles of water a dark ominous cloud appeared on the horizon and it wasn't long and the sun was hidden and soon the wind came and then rain and our job was over. Oh how it it rained and for all practical purpose ended the Old Settlers reunion. The reunion had a good run though, three days. A fish sandwhich, bag of potato chips and a great cup of black coffee rejuvenated me and then I headed home along a rain swept trail. Adios