Miffed and mildly embarrassed, my high school senior, Jo, admitted one more time to friends at school that, as a little girl, her dad told her that tapioca was fish eggs.
“You often think that if you listen to what other people or situations require, you are being passive, even subordinate.
I had no idea so much was riding on my mattress.
That is, until the down comforter on our bed sprang a leak.
Just before midnight Nov. 2, the empty Guinness cans in my kitchen sink rattled.
Two (of the three; there would be more later) fell.
When Rick Schnieders was 10, his first job was bagging potatoes at his father’s small grocery store in Iowa.
Halfway through high school, I often came home to find my younger brother happily engrossed in the flashing, fast paced editing of the Sesame Street phenomenon.
There is nothing quite so delightful as a child at play, imagination at full mast, evoking our own childhood past.
Ask any three adults you know, I’m talking even the brilliant, highly educated ones. The ones who can’t even match their shoes or tuck in their shirts, they are that smart.
Just as the noisy presidential campaign reached its October crescendo, the biggest, most bitter issue in farm country – Rabobank’s bid to buy Omaha’s Farm Credit Services of America (FCSA) – skidded to a quiet end.
Growing up, my sister Carol and I turned just about every corner of our parents’ 98 acres into our own personal playhouse.