The Sunday Whirl


The truth is, a morning running free on a hayfield was an engine starting my shiny day. My father and uncle never sat around reading the papers on a Sunday morn. I was witness to their tireless ability to hold a day job while striving to work a farm. As a child I never wondered why they chose to pay the price, but it was the life, in those days, to split their time between two needed endeavors. I was always just happy riding on their wings, living an interesting adventure.


1944 – I was a twinkle in a parents’ eye😉

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