(From the archives-It’s been dusted off and polished up) The other day I drove by a local farm. Two of the brothers were out in front of the barn working together. One brother was on the back of a tractor, and the other brother appeared to be holding something for the project. Seeing them pulled at my heart as I thought of my boys. Were those brothers peacefully…
I fly at 10,000 feet. Where do you fly? Do you like looking out over everything, soaring above the details? Or does your eye go to the weeds, staring every single one straight in the eye, like a crop duster? I like to see far, into the distance, flying high above the clouds. Diving close to the earth makes me nervous; it’s not a natural place for me.…
We called it dubbin’ growing up. It meant anything from fixing the latch on a door, fishing behind the farm, hunting, or eating jelly donuts around Grammy and Grampa’s kitchen table. Sometimes it would evolve to suckering on a spring night in the golf course brook, walking the old orchard in Webster with the dogs, or piling in the blue Peugeot, to go target practicing. Always revolving around…
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