Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Fannie Flagg's new novel, Can't Wait To Get To Heaven, provides some good grins and a lot of food for thought.

As I write this, I sit all alone on a 70-acre farm, but today it is anything but quiet. The Canada geese seem to consider this a gathering place, and today is apparently either their reunion or recruiting day.

Summer is nodding, on its way out. Last week, there were mornings that carried the chill of an early fall.

Throughout my life, travel has been sort of hard to come by. Growing up on a demanding dairy farm meant there was never any free time in which to squeeze a vacation.

While reading through Good Poems for Hard Times, a collection of poetry selected and introduced by Garrison Keillor, I ran across a writing by Erica Funkhouser that could have been written by one of us.

Man's best friend is a title that seems to fall short. Few best friends have ever blessed me with such reverence as the dogs who have walked this life with me.

Each day since that July morning when I took a ride in an ambulance has been interesting. Some days the earth is steady beneath my feet.

Each day since that July morning when I took a ride in an ambulance has been interesting. Some days the earth is steady beneath my feet.

There is nothing, and I mean nothing, like a sudden and horrid illness to make a person extremely grateful to be alive.

Lately, I have found myself wondering what ever became of baseball great Gaylord Perry. The impressive major league baseball pitcher, who boasts a Cy Young award in both the American and National leagues, became famous years ago for quitting baseball to go into farming.
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