The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.


Greetings to ever one in western Illinois and all readers of The Quill. The weather has been nice around these parts with just the right amount of rain as of this writing.

Some cooler weather is a come'n and maybe will have arrived by the time you read this column.

Tough Harley Guy to the Rescue

I'm told by Buster Jigs that on January 9, a large group of tough Pekin, Illinois Harley bikers were ridin west on I-74 when they saw a girl about to jump off the Murray Baker Bridge. They all stopped to check the situation out.

George, their tough macho leader was a prime specimen of the group wearing the "Patch" called the "Outlaws" - primary opponents and antagonists of the "Hells Angels".

He was a big burly man, about 53 with an unkept beard, pierced earring, leather jacket, and a skull and cross bones tattooed to his neck.

George walked promptly and with firm conviction through a group of gawkers, past the state trooper and shouted to the girl, "What in the H... are ya do'in?"

She nervously replied back, "I'm gonna commit suicide."

While he didn't want to appear "sensitive", he didn't want to miss a chance at be'in a Harley-legend, as the opportunity presented itself.

So George asked, "Well, before you jump, why don't ya give me a kiss?"

Without hesitation at all, she leaned back over the rail'in and did just that...and it was a long, deep, linger'n kiss followed immediately by another one.

Wow! What an impression it made on the media with cameras flash'in and spectators alike.

After they finished, George got lots of approval from his tough biker-buddies, onlookers, and even the state trooper, who by now was totally impressed with the dare'n heroism of such an unlikely individual all decked out in his rowdy look'n "chopper attire".

George roughly explained to the girl, "Wow! that was the best kiss I've ever had, honey. That's a real entice'n talent you're wast'in, sugar shorts.

You could be famous if'n ya rode with me. Why do ya want to commit suicide?"

She emotionally responded, "My parents don't like me dressing up like a girl."

It's still unclear wether she jumped or was pushed.

Edgar A. Guest

With the loss of so many loved ones in our area of late, I'm a reminded of a poem by Edgar A. Guest known as "the Poet of the People".

In the hopes of temper'n your loss a bit, "I'll share his thoughts with you'ns in this column. Hopefully it brings ya comfort.


-by Edgar A. Guest

The White Oak keeps its leaves till spring

When other trees are bare,

And who will take the time to look, will find the young bud there;

The young bud nestled snug and warm against the winters cold;

The young bud being sheltered by the knowledge of the old.

And when the spring shall come again - and gentle turns the day,

The youthful bud will swell with strength and thrust the old away.

The youthful bud will seek the breeze and hunger for the sun,

And down to earth will fall the old with all its duty done.

Then, heedless of the parent leaf, the youthful bud will grow

And watch the robins build their nests and watch the robins go.

Then something strange will come to it when that young leaf grows old,

It too will want to shield its babe against the winters cold.

It too will cling unto the tree through many a dreary day

Until the springtime comes again and it is thrust away;

Then it will flutter down to earth with all its duty done,

And leave behind its happy child to drink the morning sun.

How like man's life from birth to close!

How like the White Oak Tree which keeps a shelter for its young against the storms, are we!

We guard our children through the night and watch them through the day,

And when at last our work is done, like leaves, we fall away.

Hope'n to see you'ns in church this week. Where ever ya is, what ever ya be a do'n, Be A Good One!

Keep on Smile'n

Catch ya later