While looking into Farmer Gary‘s story about “The tuberculous house” last week, we climbed a little higher on the family tree to take a look. It was there we found a tiny branch, reaching out for sunlight. We found Peter. Born on May 2, 1848, Peter was one of nine children born to Lorenz and Catherina Dilger in what is now Baden-Württemberg, Germany. Peter’s sister Theresia, who was six years older than he, grew up to be the paternal grandmother…
Confession: Gary’s godmother, Stella, was married to a man named Arch. It shouldn’t be all that hard to keep those names – Arch and Stella – straight, but once I mistakenly called them Starch & Ella. And it stuck. Two more kind and decent people you’ll never meet. Stella was one of Gary‘s aunts who grew up here on the farm. The two of them were thick as thieves when they got together – sharing farm stories from long ago….
Farmer Gary’s grandfather on his dad’s side was George Werne. A good name. The name George means “farmer.” The farmland we live on now – and on which Gary continues to grow crops – was once farmed by George. He bought the “home place,” which was 40 acres, from his parents and later added the “back 40,” where Gary and I built our home and raised our family. George added to the property over the years, bringing the total to…
With James‘s and Joanna’s permission, here’s the cover they made recently of Oh Wonder‘s “Drive”: Regarding their YouTube Channel – Glacial Phoenix – please be sure to subscribe to it. That way you can receive notices when their future recordings are released. (A “cover,” by the way, is the performance of a previously released musical piece.) No matter how busy they were as college students, James and Joanna always seemed to make time for creating music. And now that they’re…
From Vonnegut to Dr. Jekyll to a Covid housemate, this month’s reads told stories of war, both external and internal. Book 1: The Marmalade Diaries by Ben Aitken February started out with a gift from Gary. He’d picked up this delightful diary that was published just last year. Subtitled The True Story of an Odd Couple. The author is a young man in London, looking for a place to live. He found an ad for room and board in a…
Farmer Gary remembers his mom, Rita, mentioning she had a little sister she never met. This was a bit confusing at first, as Rita was the youngest in the Mike & Rosa Mehling family. It turns out that little Henrietta was born in 1917, a full nine years before Rita’s birth. But sadly, Henrietta never got the chance to grow up. She was only 18 months old when she left this earth. When Gary asked his mom about what happened,…
Farmer Gary and I don’t usually make a big deal out of Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s just four days after February 10, the anniversary of the day we met. That’s our holiday. Still, I wanted to make something special to warm Gary’s innards, as he’d been outside shoveling soybeans yesterday. Something that says “I love you madly,” but in a bowl. Bean soup it was. As Lent approaches, Gary and I swap “giving up” stories from our youth. Although…
It’s February. Every year at this time I remember the most cringy moment of my career. The year was 1987. As detailed in this earlier story, I was editor of Pizza Today magazine. Our publisher, Gerry, bounded into my office one morning. As I swiveled from my computer to face him, I noticed he was bouncing up and down in his chair, smiling broadly. I held my breath. This couldn’t be anything good. And then he burst forth: “Are you…
Not sure what it means when the first book you read in the new year is Jaws. Here’s a look a January’s tasty morsels: Book 1: Jaws by Peter Benchley Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the library … it was a pun-filled Jaws Christmas. Me: Can’t wait to sink my teeth into this book. Farmer Gary: Wow. You’re really chewing through that one. Although the “thrillers” genre is never my first pick (or second,…
“Mom! Oh, no! Mom! Bird poop!” Growing up, Mom’s standing rule was for us to change out of our school uniforms just as soon as we got home. I don’t remember why I didn’t obey on this one day in the spring of 1967, but a big bird named Karma took care that I would never forget. We were in the backyard at our home in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. I remember standing near the large tree that shaded our picnic table,…