“Kitty go yow-yow! Kitty go yow-yow!” One of our sons, as a toddler, used to delight in seeing the barn cats over at the farm. He would point a tiny finger and proclaim to us: “Kitty go yow-yow!” And so, when a particularly vocal kitty started hanging out with us back in March, Gary and I resurrected the phrase. Here’s a photo I sent to James, still at college: It was nice to see such a handsome fellow cross our…
“Gary Werne! Not again!” My husband got a nervous look on his face, but quickly replied: “Those boxes aren’t for me. They’re for Mr. Wense.” Several boxes had arrived that day from multiple mail-order book clubs. Another batch of books we had not ordered, from book clubs of which Gary was already a member. Gary, who never before nor since has shown the least sign of sneakiness, was simply the victim of a mailing-list typo. Flash back to 41 years…
Farmer Gary has been incredibly patient as this blog has explored mostly my ancestors, as we peer back over the decades. But now, it is (ahem!) time to explore the story of a special clock from long, long ago. Gary remembers that his mom really wanted to inherit that clock. She’d grown up with it, after all. Every Sunday evening, her father – Mike Mehling – would smoke his pipe. Then he would gently remove the clock from its shelf…
There’s something very gratifying about reading Oscar Wilde’s children’s stories with your grandchild. I agreed heartily when Cameron, 10, pronounced one of the characters (the Miller) to be a “schnook”! Although I didn’t take a photo of him with the book, here he is a few months ago during a visit to a wonderful Vincent van Gogh exhibit in Indianapolis: This month’s books included several novels with strong female protagonists from over the centuries. From Mother Courage to Miss Pym…
For the last three days, the haunting melody of the Beatles’ “She’s Leaving Home” has tormented my brain. Now that I read through the lyrics, though, I realize very little applies. Our youngest isn’t running away. James is heading into his new life. Adult life. About an hour ago, Gary and I waved from our front porch (a lovely tradition from Mom’s aunt and uncle May and Pip) as James pulled out of the driveway with the last load of…
“These perm rods I’m using on your hair? These are my Anne Bancroft rods.” That statement caught my attention even more than the smelly perm treatment Michael squirted on my hair. “Anne Bancroft? The Miracle Worker actress? The Graduate? Mel Brooks’s wife?” Yup. One and the same. And that’s how I first learned about Michael Rasor’s “other life.” His hair salon’s name – The Rasor’s Edge – was enough to hook me. He operated a little shop at the other…
It’s an utter disgrace to be the wife of a farmer and not have a green thumb. (If I’d written this a decade ago, when moo cows were still a-plenty around here, that would have been an “udder disgrace.” I may stink at gardening, but I can pluck a pun from miles away.) Nevertheless, we keep trying. Last year, we planted three Black-Eyed Susan plants. One survived. “That’s one in three,” Farmer Gary remarked recently. He’s too nice a guy…
As June comes to a close, it looks like this month’s books include at least two more “banned” books … both about pigs. Book 1: Animal Farm by George Orwell Here’s another classic that is typically read in high school (unless it’s banned). But I must have been too busy reading Shakespeare (Carmel High had just released a massive amount of themed six-week English classes to choose from) or Works of War back then, as this is a first-time Animal…
May 28 is a special day for our family. It’s Dad‘s birthday. He would have been 92 this year. And oh, how he would have loved to have been in Terre Haute, Indiana, on that day. … because May 28 this year was also the day James graduated from Rose-Hulman Institute of Technology, with a double major (Electrical Engineering and Math) plus a Master’s degree in Electrical and Computer Engineering. But for Dad it would have been even more than…
Now that May’s books are all read, I’ve come to realize something: They are all mysteries. Some are classic detective novels, but others are the result of journalists digging in to uncover mysteries about stolen children and how sausage used to be made. Book 1: The Jungle by Upton Sinclair Did you read The Jungle by muckraker Upton Sinclair back in high school? It’s haunted my brain ever since, so I downloaded a free copy to take a second look,…