Dinner in the Field and other stories
I find you can discover your strengths at any age. For example, I find I’m a better writer than I am an editor. I have a full-length draft of a memoir that I’ve devoted countless hours to, and it’s finally finished. I’m anxious to move on to new material. But finishing the book is not the same as completing the project. Doing it right, I’m told, entails a less than...
Grand Mal
Emergency aid for seizures has evolved since I was a kid. Be sure to read the postscript * at the end of this piece to learn how to help a person experiencing a seizure today. I sat across from Darrell and I thought he was acting funny. We sat in wooden chairs behind wooden desks. Except for plastered walls and ceilings everything was wood; smooth varnished wooden floors, buttery old...
Baling with the Muellers, Walking Beans with Bill
We traded baling help with Bob Mueller for a while but he and his son took on a lot more land and cows. Because of that they had to bale much more hay for the winter so they had to go it on their own. Trading help worked when each farmer made more or less the same amount of hay, like three cuttings a year for three days work. It...
Dinner in the Field
My Dad grew up on a farm near Danvers, moved to Chicago at age nineteen or so, and came back ten years later to farm on his own. I think it changed him. He had more to talk about somehow. Among the farmers I grew up with talk was sometimes scarce. Their wives on the other hand were champion talkers. But because the lives and the roles of men and...
Alone Again
I swear tunes migrate from one part of my brain to another and come out of my mouth spontaneously as a whistle. I don’t know where they come from and I don’t know why. At times I don’t even know the name of the song until I hear myself whistling the tune and recognize it. And from time to time they remain just random unnamed tunes. Sometimes I know why...
Milton Pope
My solo musical career has been exceptionally brief. Outside of church choirs, both as a kid in Danvers and an adult in Ottawa, I’ve performed twice officially for an audience. I don’t think singing “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay” a cappella for a bunch of Moroccans on a beach campout in 1975 qualifies. I’ve done a lot of impromptu stuff, karaoke and all, but that’s not real performing. ...
Hot Dog Blog-the Final Word
What’s in a hot dog? You’re not sure are you? I can feel your lack of clarity through the little ones and zeroes that have become electrical and now somehow appear as letters of the alphabet on our screens. Let me help you. I was once working a fund raiser for my former agency; it was a hot dog stand outside a supporter’s small grocery store. It was a modest...
Hot Dog Blog II
The blog continues with reviews of personal favorite hot dog establishments and others recommended by readers. I can’t eat every hot dog in town folks, but I did my best. DiDoughs Let me be quick with this one. The food item people may call a hot dog which is served at DiDoughs at 228 W. Main is not a hot dog. It’s a wiener wrapped in pretzel dough baked in...
The Hot Dog Blog
We take hot dogs for granted. They are a staple of summer and yet we treat them like a commodity. Nothing could be further from the truth. I could say that hot dogs are as different, one from another, as snowflakes but that would be overdoing it. That would be hot dogging it, another meaning of the word. I could, and should, be labeled a hot dog for even suggesting...
Hot Dog Blog delayed
I haven’t posted to Dave in the Shack for nearly a week. I’m working on a hot dog blog and have run into a snag. I’d like to say it is due to circumstances beyond my control, but that’s not true. When you write and self publish a personal blog you control everything. The hot dog blog I’m planning requires extensive research i.e. eating hot dogs in various places and...
George Washington and the King of Spain
Sometimes you sit on tantalizing facts or records of events, hoping you have the opportunity to insert them into something larger you are writing, and it never happens. I’ve tried fitting them in before. Later, rereading the piece, it’s apparent the tantalizing bit is awkward. Out of place. Forced. Reluctantly I take them out. They are good little things, but they fit nowhere, and end up hidden somewhere on the...