Wednesday, November 25, 2015

I have nothing against Thanksgiving. Really. Any holiday that has pie as its main export is all right with me.

"Many years ago in the '60s, Black squirrels of London Were exported far away, To Kent State University Where they populate today.

With the Irish clan and the Germanic horde again descending on our home this Thanksgiving, the week preceding their arrival threatens more action than the following week's three-day, four-night holiday cruise on the SS Club Guebert.

The screen in the darkened room showed a rural road now bordered on the left by new homes. "I used to farm this," said Knox County's Tim Norris as he flipped to the next slide.

Hasn't autumn been extraordinary this year? November blew in, and each day so far has been as mild as a day in May.

I have taught the benefits of current, accurate farm financial and production records since I started working with dairy management students at the Agricultural Technical Institute (ATI) in 1974.

From the moment I held my firstborn son in my arms, I realized, almost instantaneously, that this wild, wonderful, unpredictably joyous journey I had only just begun would, in the blink of a moment, lead to my own planned obsolescence.

Appropriate words for this time of year, let's consider the following popular poem attributed to Father Dennis O'Brien, M.

In the big, slow move this past summer from the big, painted house in town, my worn copy of Aldo Leopold's A Sand County Almanac went missing.

As if we needed further proof that celebrities are, in fact, pure evil, we have Gwyneth Paltrow nattering on in a recent issue of The British Mirror: "(Having a baby) changed the way I see the world,'' she told a reporter.