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Remember When

  • Feed are farm store catered to gardeners and wannabees, too

    Years ago, when my wife and I were considerably younger (and physically able), much of our free time was spent landscaping and keeping up the huge fields around our home.

    In fact, once upon a time, when we just about had them tamed thanks to our frequent Saturday morning visits to Lancaster Feed and Farm Supply.

    Nestled down at the low end of South Market Street across from Jacob’s Hollow, the “feed and farm” and neighboring International Harvester Farmall Tractor place were local landmarks that many of us visited on a regular basis.

  • New year doesn't feel much different

    Two things have happened. First of all, Christmas has come and gone like a breeze.

    Now, it was New Year’s Eve and Christmas school vacations were coming to a close.

    Like most folks in our neighborhood, our cedar Christmas tree was fading to brown with needles littering the rug.

    Mama and I carefully placed each ornament in a sheet of tissue paper saved from last year.

    We carefully packed the lights, burned out bulbs and all; the war was on and we didn’t throw anything away.

  • Bowie twins remind me of long-ago adventures

    Unexpected gifts are still the ones we cherish most.

    My granddaughter and her family have been spending a few days with us prior to Christmas.

    Because of circumstances, not everyone celebrates Christmas on Dec. 25.

    Two packages – wrapped by inexperienced Christmas elves – came with them.

    The presents were sent by the Bowie twins, age 8.

    They have taken a shining to me and already want to know when Pop (that’s me) can come back to Maryland.

  • Do you see what I see?

    As Dec. 25 draws closer, it’s not unusual for service members and their families to be apart or away from home for the holidays.

    When I was in the military, many of my Christmases were celebrated on days far removed from cold December mornings. It came with the territory.

    However, one year was different.

    I had just completed a tour of duty on an isolated Pacific island.

  • I'm not in the mood to rake

    Fall is with us. Those beautiful leaves of varying hues are gently fluttering over our lawns.

    I am pleasantly surprised to observe that those hundreds of election signs, (at least those along my stretch of the Charlotte Highway), have been removed. I wish I could say the same for the leaves in my front yard.

    Things are getting back to normal.

    Billy Mays has a ton of new stuff to hawk on the television tube. Late night TV hosts are almost speechless. Politics has pretty much run its course, for now.

  • Pickle jar changed my future

    The pickle jar was a fixture in my parent’s bedroom. It sat on the floor beside the dresser and when Dad got ready for bed, he would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar.

    The sounds that pocket change made as they were dropped into the jar were always fascinating. They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. However, the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.

  • Poking fun of front porch nappers can haunt you later in life

    Growing up, I could never refrain from making glib comments about the things I saw.

    Several years ago, I made what I perceived to be, some cute remarks about Uncle Walter’s frequent snoring bouts in his front porch rocking chair.

    He would sit there with his eyes shut tight, drooping head and wide-open mouth sleeping away.

  • Love always trumps a good chaw

    In my heyday, (the early 1950s), I was a real football hotshot in the making for the Lancaster High School, or so I thought. However, some of my former Blue Hurricanes classmates will probably refute the notion that I was anyone’s gridiron hero, so I had best not brag too much about my football prowess. Why, you ask? Because nothing is worse than  being exposed.  You know, it’s sorta like loosing your swim trucks while coming through the underwater gate at the old Springs Swimming Pool. Now, back in the o

  • Stand up, be quiet for our veterans

    At one time, the significance of Nov. 11 – Veterans Day – wasn’t lost on anyone.   Of course, World War I ended years before I was born, but Uncle Harry made sure I was well-schooled on what he called the Great War or the War to End All Wars.  There was a bunch of World War I soldiers around, too.  Come to think of it, Mr. Jim Mahaffey (the grandfather of James, Ralph and Doris) lived just up the street from me.  Mr.

  • Family matters the most

    Our future isn’t about Buck Rogers and spaceships that cruise to far-away galaxies at the speed of light.It’s about family.As I get older, I frequently think about what the future holds.What will it be like?Marble and bronze statues are erected to famous folks and heroes so they will be remembered by future generations.But I often wonder if those who stand on their shoulders will even care.Ten months ago, I was blessed with a great-grandson who will carry my family name into the future.Hopefully he