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Columns

  • Let it be told

    BY KIM WHEELER

    Last year my husband and I saw giant solar farms in Texas and wind turbines in Iowa and Illinois. We met many years ago while working for Del Monte in Illinois. He taught me how to drive a tractor with a pea combine.

    That’s another story. On our road trip last summer, we decided to take a detour and see our old stomping grounds.

    The farms were expansive. The fields well-tended and the roadsides clean. It felt good to return. Then across the horizon, we saw the wind turbines: tall, white and majestic.

  • One nation

    By Sue Vogt

    Guest Columnist

    I remember kindergarten: sitting in a circle playing percussion instruments, getting our smocks out of our cubbies so we could paint, being told not to eat paste.

    My teacher, Miss Doxsee, tall, curly hair fixed on the top of her head, was quite nice but seemed old and mysterious. She was probably in her early twenties. How perspective changes with time.

    The room smelled of paint, wooden toys, paper. America was fresh and new.

  • Things I think about and remember

    We had so much fun sailing on the Life Raft this Memorial Day weekend. It was just a bunch of friends with the common story line of dementia getting together and talking about what was important to us.

  • You are not alone

    Through the veneer of social media and facing the public with my involvement within the community, most people would never bat an eye of concern for my well-being.

    I have a loving relationship, a supportive family and employment that fulfills me.

    I wear many hats in my life: The friend who wants to make you laugh, the son who wants to make his mother proud, the partner who wants to support a dream, the volunteer who wants the most for the community, and the writer who wants to entertain and inform my community.

  • Let it be told

    By Sue Vogt

    Guest Columnist

    We are all afraid of something.

    As a child, I was afraid of the dark. I was afraid of being home alone in a house that made noises. I was afraid that my mother, a widow, would die and leave me an orphan.

    The Cuban missile crisis happened when I was in secondary school. We had bomb scares. President Kennedy was assassinated. We were afraid of our country being attacked, of nuclear weapons, of violent disruption of the institutions of government.

  • Let it be told

    My first best friend was a dog named Ikey, named by a great aunt who admired Gen. Dwight David Eisenhower.

    Ikey was a brindle terrier who loved chasing squirrels, but mostly he loved me. He listened when I was sad, and he sat quietly beside me when I needed someone close.

    We didn’t have a fence, and he roamed the neighborhood. I couldn’t understand when he didn’t come home one day; my parents hid the truth from me. The truth: a neighbor had poisoned him.

  • Let it be told

    By Mignon Craig

    Guest Columnist

     

    “To serve—not to be served” is the motto of our 48-year-old AARP Chapter #912.

    I’m a second generation chapter member. My parents were members and officers in the 1990s, and I joined in 2002.

    Two of our current members, Lena and Howard Brown, are mother and son. Another member is a distant cousin to one of the chapter founders in 1971, Marie Stanley. The other founders were Anetta Roosa, William Ryerson and James Sabo.

  • Learning to let go – three years later

    By Marcia Burr

    Guest Columnist

    As I sit and write this today, I reflect on the fact that it’s been three years now since my wife died of Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease.

    I figured out how to build a whole new life after so many years of 24/7 caregiving. Many things have changed a lot, and some things haven’t changed much at all.

  • The simple things

    I heard them off in the distance, the distinctive calls of the sandhill cranes. Circling overhead, the cranes came in and out of sight. Would they land in our back field? Would they continue farther east?

     Slowly, I’m learning when the bluebirds nest and the hummingbirds come. I’m fortunate to have a friend who cares about these signs of the seasons.

    “Don’t expect the hummingbirds before St. Patrick’s Day.”

    “The sulphur butterflies are the first to appear.”

  • The simple things

    I heard them off in the distance, the distinctive calls of the sandhill cranes. Circling overhead, the cranes came in and out of sight. Would they land in our back field? Would they continue farther east?

     Slowly, I’m learning when the bluebirds nest and the hummingbirds come. I’m fortunate to have a friend who cares about these signs of the seasons.

    “Don’t expect the hummingbirds before St. Patrick’s Day.”

    “The sulphur butterflies are the first to appear.”