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11/11/2013 10:48:00 AM 50 years of knowing where you were
Last week’s column dealt with fruit flies and I was amazed at the amount of mail and calls I received. Most of them on the same kind of trap. Sandy called telling me to put a piece of banana in a canning jar with a piece of plastic on the top secured with a rubber band. Poke little holes in the top and the flies go in after the banana and can’t get out. Most of the suggestions were the same. A dish with a small amount of vinegar and dawn detergent and then the retired farmer from Belvedere said he just sprays for them. There were still more all on the same idea. I tried to call those who left their phone numbers but I finally gave up because no one answered. I think everyone was out getting fall work done. “The Farmer” prepared the garlic bed and I planted more than 200 fingers of garlic, far less than I usually plant. He also rebuilt the bird feeder and put it up. I gave it a fresh coat of paint. I need to get more exercise. I’m going to start hauling and stacking wood for “The Farmer” using one of his famous wagons. They tell me hard work is just as good as what we think of as exercise. “The Farmer” has the mulching blades on the lawnmower so he can just mulch the leaves back into the ground and we don’t have to deal with raking and bagging or burning. Much easier, except there is always trouble changing from the summer blades to the mulching blades. An article I read the other day wanted to know what you were doing the day President Kennedy was shot. I stopped for a moment and remembered that day 50 years ago. At the time, “The Farmer” managed a large grain, Hereford cattle and Quarter horse farm in the hills of Waukesha, Wis. The horse trainer had decided to enter a horse or two in the events at the Chicago International Livestock Show. “The Farmer” and I were in the bleachers watching the quarter horse events and at that particular moment one of the horses from “our” farm was moving up the ranks and getting closer to first place. We were getting excited thinking that maybe one of ours might take a first place. What a thrill that would be to be able to hang a blue ribbon from the Chicago International Livestock Show on the milkhouse wall. As we stood, in order to see better and so the trainer could hear our clapping, suddenly everything went silent as the loud speaker boomed that the president had been shot while in his car in Dallas, Texas. I stood there with my hands positioned to clap for our trainer and horse as they were being considered for a top prize. Like a movie reel that never finished, I still can see myself with my hands extended trying to clap, but never did. To this day, I can’t tell you who won what at the show because it was a chilling feeling that the United States had lost big time. We, as a nation, pulled together and carried on. On this 50th anniversary of the assassination of JFK, take the time to tell your kids where you were and what you were doing and about your feelings at the time. Ciao!
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