by Freida Marie Crump
Greetin’s from the Ridge.
Vacations are a consternation. Herb is the eternal pessimist. Just before every vacation I can recall, Herb has re-written his will.
"Herb, we’re just goin’ to Branson. Two nights. How could that possibly change your measly estate?"
"You never know, Freida. Besides, every time I look in the paper, I’ve lost another pall bearer."
Even though every study of the matter shows