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I don’t know about you, but I am getting fed up with the political war that never ends. I am not referring to the endless foreign wars where brave soldiers give their lives to keep a commitment to America.
It was one of those rowdy conversations parents have with teenagers. You explain the perils of life in graphic detail, and they just don’t get the picture.
In the darkness of the COVID-19 pandemic, I am not sure how the feeble old man of 2020 staggered out and the chubby new babe of 2021 bounced into our lives.
As I was doing some much-needed purging from my office, I came across a piece I wrote 10 years ago. It was about the busy schedule of two parents with four kids, milking cows and keeping up with life’s challenges.
Fresh air: It’s something we all long for – fresh air in a fall fog, in the winter blizzards, in the springtime showers and in the summer wildfire season.
In October, we celebrated the life of the matriarch of my father’s family. She passed away just about two weeks shy of what would have been her 94th birthday. For most of my life, she seemed invincible.
Christmas lights twinkle along sidewalks and glitter in store windows. “Jingle Bells,” “White Christmas” and “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” jingle and jangle amid the din of shoppers darting from display to display searching for the perfect gift before they rush home with their treasures.
