Thursday, April 27, 2017

For those of you who have read this column for a number of years, you already know that I am a sentimental fool.

In one episode of the 1970s television series M*A*S*H, an eminently paranoid Army intelligence officer tags flag-waving Frank Burns a Communist sympathizer because Burns subscribes to flag-waving Reader's Digest.

He is wanted for transgressions against humanity. His alleged crime spree includes such offenses as touching, being "weird," "totally annoying" and, on occasion, "looking at me funny.

The file's contents spilled out of one folder and into a second. Then a third. For at least seven years in the late 1980s and until 1993, we tracked and reported and wrote about the research and pending FDA decision on the use and commercial sale of bovine somatotropin, or bST.

Simply stated, I haven't learned to say "No." I'm not complaining; I just need to explain that I'm spread as thin as I can be.

It wasn't even Labor Day yet when Halloween decorations, cards and other gimcracks appeared on store shelves.

(Editor's note: When OSU Extension Dairy Specialist Dianne Shoemaker went to buy some iodine for their farm, she discovered she couldn't get it where she's always purchased it.

Giving new merit to the term "fashion police," baggy pants that show boxer shorts or thong underwear would be illegal under a proposed amendment to Atlanta's indecency laws.

The plucky planter on the back of our bathroom commode still makes me feel appreciated. It arrived at our house one morning in early June.

In the summer's waning warmth after Labor Day, my mother would order her child army into the big garden of my youth to gather the year's final flush of vegetables.
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