Storytelling is an ancient art and still at the heart of most meaningful relationships we have, be it with our families, our friends, our colleagues, or even companies. I love hearing other people’s stories, and I love telling stories about all the things I see around me. I think life is pretty darn hilarious . . . and heartbreaking . . . and everything in between, and often all in one day.
I continue to think life will slow down, that I won’t always be on the run. I continue to be wrong. So very, very wrong. Instead of slowing down, I’ve gone and ramped things up again. I have a bad habit of doing that.
I cannot imagine many people on this planet have had the good fortune to have all four of their grandparents live in such close proximity to them as my brother, sister, and I did. I can’t imagine that any of them had finer people for grandparents, either. The two couples were as different as night and day in many respects, but we loved them all fiercely and their legacies in our family are powerful. (more…)
My family loves water, and we frequented all of the local lakes, ponds, rivers, and swimming pools in our vicinity when I was kid. I was a scaredy cat, though, and I didn’t like diving from the high board and I often looked on as my brother and my friends did the fun stuff. My former in-laws cured me of all that. Because of them I learned to jump from the cliff at Lake of the Ozarks and to do lots of other stuff my mom would have gasped about (I will go ahead and confess here, Mom, that I also climbed the fence at the Shenandoah pool and went swimming many times at night as well as going swimming in the Nishnabotna River off the sand bars even though you warned against it. You were right, by the way.) (more…)
The moment I can’t escape, that our family farm story must start with, took place on a quiet summer evening in my rural Iowa hometown in the mid 1980s when I was 18.