byWhen Jenny Henson was as usual the first to arrive at the family cabin to open it for the summer, she found a smashed side window. Immediately, she called the new local sheriff, Mike Meadows. He had once lived on the lake when she was a kid, back when they had been the best of friends. She was sitting on the front porch steps when he arrived in fifteen minutes.
“‘Jenny, Jenny, who can I turn to?’” he said-sung.
Giving him a hug, she said, “Same old corny Mike.” Then, leading him over to the glass shards on the ground, she added, “I think we have more than another example of the broken window pane of culture.”
“There goes the neighborhood,” said the sheriff. “Seriously, Jenny, I was sorry to hear about your husband’s passing last fall.”
“Thanks,” Jenny said. “Ken and I had twenty wond
