My mom awoke from a nap back on the farm many years ago, looked around for her youngest child and then ran outside and yelled down toward the barnyard, "California.'' Well, the kid's name was Kevin, so the sound of the first letter is the same, though the letters are not. Hooked on phonics? I'm not sure where the little guy was at the time. I'm guessing if he was within hearing distance, he wondered what in the world had gotten into his mother to be hollering the name of a West Coast state on a warm summer afternoon in the middle of the South Dakota prairie.
Kathy Mattea did a touching song some years back about couples and aging. "Where've You Been'' is the story of Claire and Edwin and their lifetime together. Midway through the song, Mattea sings, "They'd never spent a night apart. For 60 years she heard him snore. Now they're in a hospital in separate beds on different floors.''
If a person enters an airplane, that act is called boarding. But these days, if a new employee enters a company, that employee is "onboarding." It's as if George Orwell is writing newspeak for the corporate world. Why it isn't just called boarding, as it is with the airplane entry, I don't know. Actually, why it isn't just called "joining the staff" or "starting the job," again, I don't know.
I see where Tom Hanks, the movie star, says America will survive the current craziness in the presidential campaigns, and I'm pretty sure he's right.
The late Gov. Bill Janklow seldom talked in public about an appreciation for the arts, but when he did, he often singled out Terry Redlin of Watertown. Redlin, who died...
The first time I heard Glen Campbell sing "I Love My Truck,'' I thought to myself, "Now there's a guy who understands the world." Thinking back, it's kind of a miracle (OK, a minor miracle) I heard the song at all. I haven't listened to pop or country radio in a million years. I don't have anything against that stuff. I just rarely listen to songs I haven't heard before. That was so even when I still could listen to my favorites while driving that truck I love.
I wrote recently about a doctor who still made house calls, which is cool, but I've been on the patient side of a house call to the doctor. Actually, our younger son, Andy, was the patient. I played the part of the chauffeur or maybe ambulance driver. Nancy served as the EMT on the scene, keeping the patient stable during the transport. B.O. Lindbloom, now retired, acted as the receiving emergency-room doc, right there in his own home.
As we drove along River Street in Chamberlain not too long ago, we met an elderly man pedaling a bicycle. The speed limit on that street is 20 mph, so I had time to study the biker, noting the white hair, thick glasses and bushy mustache. "Hey, that's Doc," I said as we went by him.
As I took a scroll through the pages of Facebook the other evening, I clicked on an article titled something like "37 Things Old People Say They Regret Not Doing When They Were Young.''
In the days before instant media, newspapers sometimes sent reporters out to the street to interview random people about topics breaking in the news. Assignment editors believed that getting input or opinion from the first six or eight women and men on the sidewalk gave a common touch to stories. These days, any man, woman or child with access to the internet can weigh in on any topic in the world any time they wish. In the time before social media, reporters had to work harder to track down uninformed opinions on breaking news.