Editorial / Opinions

After my last back surgery a few years ago, I questioned my wife as to why the nurses were constantly asking me my name, where I was, and what day it was, for the first few hours after I awoke from the operation. Being a nurse herself, she informed me that those questions were just simple, basic ways in which healthcare professionals can assess the general mental status of a patient; not knowing the answer to one or more of the questions would raise a red flag alerting the nurse to investigate further.

A few weekends ago I headed to Arkansas for Decoration. My paternal grandma was born and raised on Nubbin Hill in Leslie, Ark. The old church building there served as both school and church for my great-grandfather, my grandma and all her siblings. It’s easy to forget those days gone by, a simpler time. Grandma fondly remembered walking to and from school, and to and from her girlfriends’ homes as a young girl. Even after a hard day working in the fields, she noted they were never too tired to walk to their friend's home to visit, or perhaps, if they were lucky, catch a ride into town. Today, with the Internet, TV and cell phones we can always have company or entertainment.

The Rodeo of the Ozarks’ final curtain came down July 3rd in Springdale, Ark., with a sky full of fireworks. The 66th rodeo is now history. We had good crowds considering most folks’ financial situation. As a board, we sure appreciated the support of fans and businesses who made it possible. Then there are volunteers that are indispensable and we have some mighty fine ones helping us. Of course this was the first year we changed dates. For 65 annual rodeos we were always July 1 through 4. This year we stepped back one day, and next year, the 67th rodeo will start on June 29 thru July 2.

It must be getting close to election time, for the “farmers” are coming out of the woodwork. It’s a phenomenon that happens every two years – people running for office who fill the airways, newsprint and signage, touting their “agricultural” roots.

I got asked to volunteer for quite possibly the best volunteer position there ever could be a few weeks back. I was asked to judge the Polk County Fair's pie contest.

I thought these old remarks of mine, written in the '70s, might be of interest today, especially considering many Americans compare our extended involvement in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan to Vietnam. I presented these thoughts to a graduating class at Willard High School. These were my thoughts then, on a war that held America’s attention. Sadly, there is much more to hold our attention today, and the Afghanistan and Iraq war gets much less media play, and therefore people are much less concerned about it. Or are we less concerned? Are we just less vocal about our concerns? Now there's something to consider.

For 58 years, now, I’ve proudly worn the uniform of the American farmer and rancher; denim blue jeans made by one of three major manufacturers, plaid work shirts with button-down collars made by one of two companies, caps given away by any number of feed stores, implement dealers, other farms or any one of a thousand agriculture related enterprises, cowboy boots made by either one of the major boot makers, and, when I really have to dress up, my cowboy hat (straw in the summer and felt in the winter).

I’ve spent some time close to the earth in the past few weeks. From sewing grass seed, to picking blueberries, to mulching the family garden with old hay, I’ve been sunburned, tick-bitten and hot and sweaty. My mom and I weeded the potato patch a few Fridays back, and as the sun beat down on us, and sweat ran down our faces, she reminded me that sometimes you have to really spend time in the sun to appreciate the shade.

Summer is here. Temps turn up and those afternoon thunderheads pop up on the horizon and somewhere a shower appears. Deep green colors paint these hills. Round cylinders of hay stand out parked in the fresh cut meadows and polka-dot calves buck and play. A yearling doe had a fawn in my backyard during the first days of June. I went outside to get something in the predawn and spooked him across the flower bed. She found him later in the morning and re-hid him. If a person can’t count their blessings living in the Ozarks, I guess they’re plumb hard to please.

When I grow up, I want to be a weatherman. What else, besides being an economist, can you be wrong more than 50 percent of the time and still keep your good-paying job?