If Arthur Fonzarelli, the Fonz from the TV sitcom "Happy Days," had been a cowboy, he might have been Clint Roberts.
A warm spell like the one predicted for the next seven or 10 days would have shut down the rabbit hunting for me and my cousin back on the farm.
During an evening session in the South Dakota House in one of my first years as a newspaper reporter, a fellow in the first row of the upstairs spectators' gallery shattered the decorum when he suddenly stood and shouted, "Filibuster. Come on, filibuster.'' You could have heard a bill drop as House members, pages, messengers, staff, reporters and spectators craned their necks to stare at the man. The shouter sat down, pretty pleased with himself.
It turns out the youngsters, the millennials, aren't the ones using their phones the most in this country, according to a summary of a Nielsen report I found while, uh, scrolling through online stuff with my phone. Me, age 73, finding the information on my phone might be considered ironic, I suppose. I've never quite figured out what irony really means. That in itself might be a bit of irony — or not.
It's a different world following the Legislature from the outside as an average citizen instead of from the press room of the Capitol building. For 40 sessions, from 1970 through 2009, I watched from the press box. For five sessions after that, with the Department of Public Safety, I followed the Legislature every day as part of my job. It wasn't the same as being a reporter, but it kept me on the inside.
Early one misty morning a couple of summers ago as I stood outside the operations center near the east end of Camp Rapid, I stretched, took a sip of coffee and looked up to where the fog had parted enough to show me a massive dinosaur above the clouds.
Last Friday, while many people watched the inauguration of a new American president, Nancy and I joined a great crowd of other folks in the Rec Center at St. Joseph's Indian School to say goodbye to an unassuming, but remarkable woman named Diana Caldwell.
If you grew up in rural South Dakota 60 or 70 years ago, you're either brave when alone at night or you see monsters behind every corral post and cottonwood tree. Some of my friends from childhood are brave. Me, I see monsters, even today. Why, just the other evening, when I looked out the patio window and saw footprints in the snowdrift behind the house, I figured it was a monster. I switched on the outside light. I saw nothing, but I was pretty sure some "thing'' was just around the corner of the patio.
I confess I'm uncomfortable with the notion of a soon-to-be-president who expresses himself in 140-character tweets. I don't consider that a criticism of Donald Trump. It's my observation that he doesn't take kindly to criticism, real or perceived, and I'm sure he's in for a lot of criticism over the course of his administration. I'm pretty sure he'll respond, too, perhaps through the Twitter account he used quite successfully throughout his campaign.
Back in my days as a newspaper reporter covering the Legislature, state government and politics, I used to traffic in rumors and tips.