If you have read my stuff lately you will remember that I mentioned I would be using Sundays writing to honor my mom.Â
A writer in her own write. (Sorry couldn’t help myself)
I’m not sure how to introduce you to her, officially. I believe I have mentioned her before. And I heartily believe that I am my mothers son.
I will be posting her writings here, verbatim, as she wrote them so many years ago. Only this time she is world wide! Instead of just the local paper.
I think I will explain about her as we go, as it feels needed.
So…
From ‘The Guides Journal’ 1981, page 14, from page 2, Editors Column – Whats on your mind?
Titled: ‘A Ladies Point of View’
- Last year our men spent the weekend pheasant hunting. They didn’t want to believe I got the biggest rooster with the car while driving the kids to see Grandma, but I did!
- When I asked where my brother-in-law was, my sister snapped angrily, “He said he was getting a Christmas tree, but he took his gun.” Being a hunting widow with two toddlers was driving her bonkers, but I made her feel lots better when I explained, “We always shoot our Christmas tree. It sure beats sawing or chopping.”
Mrs. Johnny Walleye, New London
(Editors note: I thought my family was the only one that “cut” their Christmas tree that way!)
My mom, from about the age of nine, grew up on a little place, out in the country, north of New London. A small farmette, with fields and tree’s and…
well, more on that later.
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