Remember, almost nothing is worth arguing over. And those things you want to argue over, likely you can do little about – especially if they are in faraway Washington, D.C. Grasp the amazing miracle of being a living being on the only planet that we know that supports life. This is nothing to take for granted.
One Saturday, it was probably late July, a Cadillac comes up the driveway. It was a current model at the time, but please understand in the 1960s, Cadillacs seemed to be about 30 feet long. Four men got out, and they were not well dressed.
Fun with cows. Over the years, as our herd grew, cows became quite a busy activity. We had a large pasture, and the way it was positioned, the cattle could actually not be seen, depending on where they were.
If there is anything we are short on these days, it is Biblical study. No one is shooting boats out of the water that are attempting to deliver more Bibles to the United States.
On this particular Sunday evening, it had been raining but the sun was coming out. As we got to the Armstrong farm, on state Route 506, we could see flames coming out of the Armstrong’s barn. It had been struck by lightning. We stopped, and I headed to the barn.
Riches come with family and faith, not new toys. It would be great if we could get this across to kids in grade school and preserve the idea through high school. I think it would make for a more peaceful world with more satisfied people.
I think it was Thanksgiving 1963 that we had an early snow, probably six inches or so, and Dad had planned we would cut wood on Thanksgiving Day. So, it was off to the woods in a heavy snow.
Some of you will look at this headline and think I am talking about Republicans. Some will look at it and think I am talking about Democrats. You are both correct. The pandemic in the world today is lying.
Since permanently moving to the farms when I was 12 and limiting our travels to basically farm to farm and then to Hillsboro, I viewed the world as very large. To me, Cincinnati was the other side of the world.
We need to realize what we have, how financially rich we are, and give thanks to God for our bounty at this time of year. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
One evening, after dark, Dad was coming home from combining soybeans at the McNary Farm. He was on the road from Carmel to Cynthiana, coming up the hill from Heads Branch. We got a call at home. The crankshaft had broken in the engine, and he needed me to come with the John Deere and pull him home.
I’ve written before that as recently as the Great Depression (yes, surprisingly, almost 100 years ago) many people were embarrassed to take a handout from the government. Would such days return.
But Saturday morning, we had no (working) car. Dad called his “MCPO man” (remember those commercials on WSRW?). He brought out a 1964 four-door Corvair. My parents bought it, and that was our car for the rest of the days on the farms.
For over 200 years, we have laughed at the Luddites, those villagers who destroyed the steam-powered looms for fear they would lose their jobs. I fear the Luddites are about to be proven correct.
As we got into the spring of 1965, things were smoothing out and becoming routine on the farms. I was finishing up my freshman year at Hillsboro High School and had only one more year of Latin to dread.
