Editorial / Opinions

Lindsay Haymes on life like a puppy

Frank Farmer chastises big banks for their ways

Jerry Crownover recounts the lessons Tom learned in the tornado

Lindsay Haymes on the ways of an old farm dog

I need stability in my life – always have.  I wear the same style and brand of blue jeans that I did thirty years ago.  They’re a different size, of course, but surprisingly, not that much more expensive.  When I had to quit wearing boots because of my back, I switched to a style of shoe that I’ve also stuck with for many years now.  My work shirts have been the same brand for at least fifteen years as well – plaid design, button-down collar, long-sleeved in the winter, and short-sleeved in the summer.  Heck, my wife never worries about me leaving her because she knows I detest change too much to even think about breaking in a new woman.  I guess my need for stability is why my life seems to be out of whack right now.

By the end of the Civil War, folks had eaten every hog and chicken in the United States.  Confederate soldiers who walked home after the armistice from Maryland and Virginia to Arkansas said they never heard a rooster crow.  The industrialized north was prospering and wanted protein.   Texas was broke and so were the people. This is Part One of the era of cattle drives:

When I was a kid, nothing scared me more than tornados. And, unlike many childhood fears, I know the exact point that I became painfully fearful of the terrorizing twisters.

Jerry Crownover and rising cost woes

Lindsay Haymes knows her greatest fear

His tone was rather quarrelsome. Or maybe I just don’t like a finger stuck under my nose.
“Why do you waste so many words on agriculture?”
“Because,” I said, hanging my cap on his finger, “it is my favorite subject. It is the most exciting enterprise in the world today.”