Today is Mother's Day and I spent most of it at the homestead cutting grass. Does it look nice? No! The lawn looks awful. The blades on the rider are dull now and on top of that; they struggle to clear the cuttings from the deck's opening. The back tire of the workhorse has a nail in it. That small six-penny problem has been reported to its main problem solver.
I'll turn this yard matter around very soon.
Yesterday, our grandson, Daniel James Risk turned 21. The timing was perfect for his mother, Starla McHugh. She was on the way home to Phoenix from a business trip to Pennsylvania. The busy lady stopped over to help him celebrate the occasion. The young collegiate scholar is back home in Brownsburg for summer break and a little rest and relaxation.
Did you read Lori Sartor Patrick's tribute to her mother (me) on page two of Saturday's edition of "THE Brazil Times?"
I was very busy Saturday morning, doing a little bit of this and that and then some. Unlike most mornings after the security alarm sounds and the mail and the paper arrive; I let it rest in the mailbox until later. When I did bring the daily delivery into the house, I checked the mail and took a quick look at the paper.
I read the article that Jason Moon wrote "Remember to make time for the mothers on Sunday." I thought that was so nice. I think that I read every word on page one. I leaned on the kitchen table, on one elbow, went to page two, and read Bette Blackwell's beautiful tribute to her mother, Mona Fulwider. I thought that was nice.
After reading the obituaries, I set the paper aside to finish later. I had chores that needed my attention: a house to tidy-up and a small menagerie of small furry and feathered friends to feed and water, outside.
I needed to gather the eggs that the hens laid, feed them some layer crumbles fill and water the productive birds. As this gatherer of natural goodness put my cupped hand in the straw nest, I noticed the gate to the pen was left ajar. "Not good," I muttered!
I then took the egg and stuck it into the deep pocket of Paul Baby's jacket and rushed to the metal gate. I sure didn't want to chase and catch chickens in the woods.
In my excitement, I tripped, fell against the gate, and smashed my nice big fresh brown egg. A big old bunch of keys was there when the shell- shocked and the yolk scrambled.
I needed to cleanup the light jacket and wash my sticky hand. Yes, I dug in to check out what this klutz did.
As I was approaching the back porch the land phone began to ring. The caller was my youngest daughter, Lori Ann Patrick.
After we exchanged greetings, I told her about a friend of mine that died. She asked," What else was in the paper? I told her about the tributes to mothers. She said, "Look again, you might have missed something."
I scanned the front page again. Satisfied that I should move on, Lori's mom moved to page two for a second look. I about had a heart attack when I saw "Being mom: The gift that keeps on giving" guest columnist, by Lori Ann Sartor Patrick.
I am said by some to be a good reader; sometimes the listener slows me down when I move too fast.
When I read aloud to my Lori her gift to me I took my time. I thought that's nice-very nice!
I say that every time I read it -and often.
We seniors love getting report cards from time to time. We often wonder- did we do the best we could, by our children? Were we good role models? So much circulates in our old noodles in regard to them.
Well, thank you Lori and Starla for the good marks- your mom learned a lot this Mother's Day, and more, I love you too!
I send my heartfelt sympathy to the family of Donna C. Pierce Julbert Felty. I am proud to say, "She was a friend."
I can be reached at 446-4852 or by email at firstname.lastname@example.org.