Editorial / Opinions

Billy is a good, hard-working, country kid who loves to show cattle.  He’s smart as a whip, too, which made me just want to sit back and enjoy the debate five years ago when he was stalled across the aisle from us at the local fair.

Usually I try to study the weather and cut hay when there is a 3-day window of calm conditions.  In this unusually wet spring and summer when there are no 3-day windows, I’ve changed my habits and have tried to cut the day before a rain, hoping that it will dry enough in the 2-day window that follows in order to bale before the next rain.

Mules are a great subject to tackle especially with all the crazy dealings I’ve had with them.  I once foolishly made a bet with a radio DJ that I could go up and down a water park slide more times than he could to raise money for some charity.  That was back when I was the morning Ag director at KFAY radio.  If I lost I had to ride a mule with the other directors in the Rodeo of the Ozark Parades.  I announced a rodeo in Ozark on Friday night, drove home late, and went up and down that water slide all the next day, and went back that evening and announced again. My youngest daughter had her driver license or permit and drove me back home from down there as I slept.

I’d be amiss not to spend at least one column discussing the “Go Green” influences we’ve all been inundated with the past year or so. I know a lot of people who just don’t buy into the whole green, “eco-friendly” bit. But, I can’t help but see how many of the green alternatives to old methods can’t not be beneficial, not only on the large scale, but on a personal level too.

I’d be amiss not to spend at least one column discussing the “Go Green” influences we’ve all been inundated with the past year or so. I know a lot of people who just don’t buy into the whole green, “eco-friendly” bit. But, I can’t help but see how many of the green alternatives to old methods can’t be beneficial, not only on the large scale, but on a personal level too.

Stunned! That is what I am - and have been the last few weeks as one of the most incredible human events in recent decades in the United States has occurred.

Usually I try to study the weather and cut hay when there is a 3-day window of calm conditions.  In this unusually wet spring and summer when there are no 3-day windows, I’ve changed my habits and have tried to cut the day before a rain, hoping that it will dry enough in the 2-day window that follows in order to bale before the next rain.

Out in these rural Ozarks, where I spend a lot of time, I’ve found a little family of foxes. They’re living either in my boyfriend’s barn or under the highway in a fox hole. These little guys are so cute and funny to watch. I’ll crest the hill in the evenings and see five or six little heads pop up, ears alert and intrigued, and eyes watching my car turn onto my boyfriend’s farm road. On several occasions we’ve come upon them in the barn lot at night, frolicking with each other or celebrating their successful hunting venture of late. They sure are cute, and we couldn’t help but celebrate them being back this season, after the highway killed most of them off last year. A celebration I fear is halfhearted now.

Somewhere I once read a novel about Rome in the pre-America ages.  The author’s description of the diverse people milling in the streets of the then-capitol of the world stayed in my mind. He listed them in a colorful rainbow of ethnic costumes and dress.  While the dress is not as obvious today in Washington DC, I met lots of folks in my recent sojourn up there for my local electric co-op. Ozarks Electric out of Fayetteville, Ark., that were from other places.  Cab drivers hailed from Ethiopia, Nigeria and some other country that I did not even know the name of.  A doctor I met from Argentina, who spoke little English, assured me the trout fishing in his country was wonderful.

I have played a round of golf once in my entire lifetime.  It was the final class requirement for an eight-week golf class I took as a physical education elective my freshman year in college. I enjoyed it so much that I vowed never to pick up a golf club again. You see, I really did enjoy it, but after watching so many of my friends become addicted to the sport resulting in spending hundreds of dollars each year on equipment, fees and memberships, not to mention all the time they spend away from their families and jobs, I decided I might become “hooked” as well—and at that stage of my life, I could not afford the commitment of either money or time.