Saturday, December 3, 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.

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.

John Steinbeck, the great American author of The Grapes of Wrath and several other books of great worth, decided late in his life he wanted to write a different sort of book.

There is just nothing like a mid-winter party to lift the spirits. Yesterday, our home was filled with lots of great kids and the wonderful laughter and fun that comes along with a gathering.

When I was somewhere around 10, if you had asked me to describe the milk inspector who paid surprise visits to our family dairy farm, I know, at least in part, what I would have told you.

For farm families, spring cleaning takes on an entirely different meaning than it does for most people.

Many things in life require more tenacity than most humans want to conjure, from sunup to sundown, day in and day out.

Necessity is the mother of invention. No one knows that more than the American farmer. One day recently, my son put on an old pair of his dad's coveralls and was frustrated when he realized one of the lower leg zippers was broken, leaving the leg flapping open in the breeze.

How does one define a life well lived? There are many people who would base this answer on the amount of money one has in the bank, or the vehicles parked in the garage or the number of vacations a fellow can afford in a year.

My recent column about snow days prompted a few comments from friends and readers, almost all saying snow days were meant for sledding.
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