It’s a good thing I like the Beatles so much, because one song in particular has been rolling around in my brain for seven years or so. ,,, and that’s because of the number of phone calls I get for someone named Michelle. From the beginning of mobile phones’ ubiquity, mine was provided by my workplace. So when retirement was anon, it was time to let someone else carry around that noisy contraption. (When grandson Cameron was a toddler, he…
Years before I married Farmer Gary, the first person I spoke with each morning was Ron. He was the morning deejay at WTCJ radio and I was the morning newsperson. This was back in the day when many small towns had their own radio station. Tell City, Indiana’s family-owned radio station had been around since the late 1940s. It was the summer of 1980, I’d finished college and was starting my first job. Before long I was put on the…
Actually, how about a thousand cheers? Have you ever been greeted by a blizzard of confetti online while performing a simple task? Confetti, plus a message designed to send your heart soaring? So it was with me this morning. The online celebration was for the one-thousandth clipping I’d snagged on the Newspapers.com site. Totally unexpected and sort of embarrassing. (Maybe it’s a generational thing?) There have been many news clippings over the years that have helped with family stories for…
Why would I dream about taking just one bite of a sandwich? And a Reuben sandwich at that! Farmer Gary is not a fan of rhetorical questions. He just shrugged in response. I so rarely remember my dreams that it was hard to let this one go. Until yesterday, neither Gary nor I had ever tasted a Reuben sandwich. He’s a fan of sauerkraut, but served with pork. Ham hocks and sauerkraut were a treat growing up, he tells me….
You’d think they could come up with another word: It’s bad enough that AARP emails us daily with new ways to pull tendons and cramp muscles, now the app for our generator is getting into the act, bragging about its activity. But I’m getting ahead of myself … A month or so ago, Farmer Gary made the following proclamation: “This house has a poltergeist.” It had been a lively couple of days: Luckily, the company that installed our whole-house generator…
Earlier this spring, I came upon an article that reveled in the fact that for a few weeks each March, musician Gary Numan is older than actor Gary Oldman. When I mentioned this phenomenon to Farmer Gary, he regaled me (for about the millionth time) with his theory of the name Gary. Because he thinks about this a lot. He’s convinced that all Garys on this earth are in their late sixties and early seventies. And he’s concerned. He worries…
Last night, Farmer Gary replaced the light bulbs in our ceiling fan. We have a vaulted ceiling in our bedroom, so he used a stepstool and replaced all four, even though only one was out. The other three would be saved for use closer to the ground. Practical as always, that man. As is typical in our house, that quick chore touched off a series of stories. In this case, stories about light bulbs. The first involved Grandpa Mehling. Gary…
Looking back, maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to swap vomit stories with James. Our youngest son was feeling lousy and recounting how rarely he’d regurgitated in his 26 years. Ah, but not me. I turned it into an unwinnable contest: “I threw up every day of my three pregnancies. That’s 27 months.” Sorry, James. In less than a week, he would be onstage at the University of Southern Indiana, playing guitar in the Lucas Washington band, opening for…
Gary has told me more than once that the saddest place in the world is the section of a graveyard set aside for babies. Thankfully, improvements in healthcare and the development of vaccines have helped tremendously over the years. Far fewer infants die at birth. But still, some of the most precious and fragile among us do not survive those early hours. Gary and I went to the St. Ferdinand Cemetery yesterday evening to pay our respects to a little…
All of us who grew up in households headed by children of the Great Depression are no doubt familiar with the proverb waste not want not. It basically decrees that you should make do with what you have. And so it is with Amish names. Over these past 500 or so blog posts, I’ve mentioned more than once that Farmer Gary is enamored with the Amish. It was only today, though, while recording this story, that I tied together that…