Friday, October 28, 2016

Isn't it odd how certain moments in time stay with us, remaining vibrant in our memories? I have one such memory, and while I can't explain why it stands out while others that were certainly more important have faded away, it is as clear as though it happened yesterday.

Be it mere coincidence or clear symbolism, the delightfully early and deliciously warm spring enjoyed by farmers and ranchers came to a stone-cold halt just days after the U.

I remember when I first made the clear connection between what I wore and how I felt. It was the dawn of middle school, which in our district was seventh grade.

Twenty years ago on April 4, I awakened to a white glare outside the bedroom window, realized the glare was from snow, laughed aloud, burrowed back beneath the covers, and snoozed for another 30 minutes.

Libraries have always been a home away from home for me. Whether I stood beside the "stacks" (bookshelves) or in a privileged place behind the desk, I sensed at an early age the quiet, potential "wealth" around me.

"It's time to get political." That's a headline message on the Web site of The Humane Society of the United States.

When I was a very young kid, I went to the Loudonville Free Street Fair with some of my friends. At home that night, I said to my father, "I saw your uncle at the fair!" Real cowboy.

The signs and sounds of another Illinois spring are everywhere and each one sends me daydreaming to another time, another place.

I have long enjoyed reading the anniversary notices in the county paper. It is these little nuggets of society news that tell us that Lula and Orville have enjoyed 75 years of wedded bliss (having wed, apparently, at or around age nine).

How to Eat a Poem Don't be polite. Bite in. Pick it up with your fingers and lick the juice that may run down your chin.
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