Editorial / Opinions

Summer traditions. For some, summer traditions may be loading up and going to the lake on Memorial Day or family barbeques on the Fourth, but for me, summer just isn’t summer without the Louisburg Picnic.

Because I was born in 1952, I have no recollection of the severe drought and scorching temperatures of that year and the two that followed, but I heard my father talk about them until the day he died. Every time we’d experience a sustained dry spell or a few days of unusually high temperatures, dad would always say, “It’s bad, no doubt, but it’s nothing like the summer of 1954.”

It’s interesting how situations in life can change the relationships in your life simultaneously. Uncontrollable circumstances that force life to take a new direction usually have some sort of affect on friendships.

We have seen a wonderful discovery in our country – natural gas. The loosening of our tight supply has made us much less dependent on foreigners for energy and in the future, it will be the salvation of this country. We have more natural gas than any country on the planet. Fields and fields of it exceed Saudi Arabia and any other petroleum producing nation or regions, and we haven’t seen it all yet.

Once upon a time, I had my cow herd split into a spring-calving bunch and a fall-calving bunch. Over the years, my growing frustration with the fall-calvers led me to evolve into an entirely spring-calving farm. Call me crazy, but I’d rather fight the problems associated with the cold (short ears, pulling calves on frigid nights, and the occasional snowstorm) than the problems that accompany fall calving (screwworm flies, short pasture, and the occasional stress of a heat wave).

It’s interesting how situations in life can change the relationships in your life simultaneously. Uncontrollable circumstances that force life to take a new direction usually have some sort of affect on friendships.

Once upon a time, I had my cow herd split into a spring-calving bunch and a fall-calving bunch. Over the years, my growing frustration with the fall-calvers led me to evolve into an entirely spring-calving farm. Call me crazy, but I’d rather fight the problems associated with the cold (short ears, pulling calves on frigid nights, and the occasional snowstorm) than the problems that accompany fall calving (screwworm flies, short pasture, and the occasional stress of a heat wave).

When I was 16 years old I begged and begged my parents to let me have a dog. I didn’t want just any dog. I wanted a lemon-colored beagle pup named Jezebel that one of my classmates had. The family who owned the beagle puppy was looking to get rid of her. They were beagle breeders and swore this one would not make a good rabbit dog because she was too “people friendly.”

Things have been busy for me. I went to Albuquerque, N.M., for the Western Writers of America’s conference two weeks ago. This is always a big week for me to meet with my friends and publishers. Almost everyone was there and this year we had a fun time in this busy town. I didn’t get to see much of the town but I have been there many times before. Of course, folks like Elmer Kelton who wrote some great western books and was a good friend is no longer among us. And several more folks that I knew well have passed on to the big pastures.

Parker is 5 years old and loves playing t-ball, eating bratwurst and showing goats. I don’t know how he acquired his love of baseball, but I can only assume he inherited his latter two ‘loves’ from his father.