Columns

Austin, our early riser and six-year-old son, and I were sharing a few quiet moments and discussing various aspects of the day ahead. That’s when I told him: “You know, you really should go get dressed and check on Daisy, just in case she’s had her baby goats during the night.”

As a busy mother of six little darlings, if there is one thing I enjoy, that is stepping into my mom’s kitchen. Laughing, I informed her, “You know, it’s just like hungry hormones are released when I step into your kitchen!” Really there is something about it; it doesn’t matter what part of the day I happen to come to her house, I always feel like I could eat!

What a combination. It’s 6:00, the birds outside my window are trying to outdo each other, all six little children are sound asleep, and Mommy is ready to write! All we need is a stretcher to lengthen the next hour til we’re in full swing of the day.

Daniel stepped into the house, cradling something. A second look revealed the surprise, a perfectly adorable fawn covered with white spots. By all evidence, it was no more than a week old. We gasped. Could it be a real baby deer?

So many things happen. Life is made up of events and happenings; there are happy times and rough times. The difficult moments that test your patience to the max leave you wondering how you could ever forget them in the world. Time elapses, those stark negatives and intense trials have a way of melting back, and you cling to the positive memories. It’s like my mom says, “Memories tend to be viewed as better or worse than the actual event.” Whether we choose to view it from a positive or negative standpoint, life keeps moving on.

July has come to its final week. Summer’s first full month will soon slip quietly away, like the last grains of sand trickling from an hourglass.

We’re already a week deep into August—coasting steadily downhill on summer’s slope. In just over six weeks autumn will officially debut.

July is already a week-and-a-half old!

Harlan County, Kentucky, has a World War II hero who recently passed. I knew Alfred “Al” Cornett (August 1923-July 2021) because I interviewed him about his war experiences, and I have several of the dulcimers he made hanging on the wall in my living room.

“Grunts” was a common expression used during the Vietnam War as a label for the U.S. military men who were lowest in the hierarchy of those who served. I decided to write about one of these men, Gary Unger, who did not die in that war and who did not receive two Purple Hearts for being grievously wounded there.