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.
I am decidedly a country girl from way back, but I confess to one odd trait that makes me look like a city kid in the biggest way.
“You often think that if you listen to what other people or situations require, you are being passive, even subordinate.
There is nothing quite so delightful as a child at play, imagination at full mast, evoking our own childhood past.
One of the most interesting segments of time in American history is one that few youth of today know anything about.
“Why do we love to gaze on the blue canopy of the summer sky, the many-colored flowers of the spring, the beautiful faces of innocent children? Why do we love to listen to the symphony of the orchestra, the music of the mountain wind playing with the pine trees, the mighty voice of lonely waterfalls?
“When we were kids on the farm, long before the days of rural electrification, we owned a battery-powered Philco radio.
“The U.S. Congress, which never ceases to be amazing, recently voted to give the Pentagon $11 billion more than it had asked for.
Our county fair, among the very last in the state to open each year, is under way.
The timing of this fair delights many, as they can select their very best produce to enter for 4-H and open class judging, and cattle and hogs are given just a little extra time to reach as close to perfection as possible.
“I have finally figured out what is wrong with everything. There is too much of it. I mean by that that there is too much of every single thing that one could possibly want or need except time, money, good plumbers, and people who say thank you when you hold open a door for them.
The swirling hurricane season keeps pounding away, and everyone I’ve talked to in recent days is concerned about friends and family living in the southeast.
“Some days, we would simply walk the fields and stroll the woods just for enjoyment. It seemed we didn’t really need a good reason, but sometimes we would offer to check the north fence or insist upon checking to see if the latest storm knocked any trees about in the back woods.