My son, Cort, has become friends with a girl who is visiting here from Japan this school year.
He told us that he is teaching her fun English slang words, and she is enjoying every minute of it.
Just a week ago, we had the joy of welcoming a young couple with a sweet little baby to our home.
As I was making a fuss over the baby, the young mother told me my optimism and enthusiasm was exactly what she needed to hear.
As time marches on, the changing of seasons remains the same, but little else has been untouched by the progression of time.
I remember as a child being obsessed with horses and the cowboy life. It consumed our play, it invaded our dreams.
Winter wind, howling in the depths of December prompts us to wish to retreat to the easy chair beside the fireplace, a cup of something warm and steaming nestled in our chilly hands.
Farm safety was constantly a part of our dialogue over the course of my growing up years, and though I am sure we turned deaf ears to it at the time, I now can understand the enormity of it.
The man who painted eloquent pictures of everyday heroes may have been surprised to know that he became one of mine.
One day recently, the morning TV news carried two headlines that made me stop in my tracks.
Condoleeza Rice was appealing for several billion dollars in aid to be sent to Tunisia, and about quadruple that billion dollar amount to be sent to Iraq and Afghanistan.
As the journey by covered wagon unfolds for Laura Ingalls Wilder, her husband and young daughter, Rose, it becomes apparent that the travelers will be glad to settle down in a new home.
In the traveling journal of Laura Ingalls Wilder, it is interesting to read not only of their daily trials and tribulations as they headed west in their covered wagon, but of the local farming struggles in the barren soil of 1894.
While many are familiar with The Little House on The Prairie tales from Laura Ingalls Wilder, many have never read the diary she kept while traveling from South Dakota to Mansfield, Mo.
Remember the good old days of the cowboy commandments?
It seems like such a long time ago when every child wanted to be a cowboy who stood up for all that was good, honorable and right.
This past week has been a week of challenges.
A chilly rain was falling when we went to bed on Wednesday night.
Winter’s blasts of snow and ice tickle the fancy of some while creating for others extreme hard work for hours on end, along with nightmarish challenges that cannot be resolved overnight.
As we close out the year, it is interesting to look back on what life was like 100 years ago.
In the year 1904, according to an interesting fact sheet, the average life expectancy in the United States was 47 years.
Reading this Christmas book of personal stories collected by President Carter prompted many memories shared by my father over the years.
It has been said that much can be determined about the character of a man by studying the way he treats animals.
It was a gray and dreary morning. Not much happening. Not much to spark the day. Until the phone rang.
My daughter Caroline is putting her driver’s permit to good use, always asking if there is any place I need to go, ever willing to drive me.
Just this past week, I once again had a meeting with school officials regarding Cort’s on-going struggle with his health and how that pertains to his education.