In the southwest corner of our linoleum floored family room, rested a brown Naugahyde fabric Lazy Boy recliner. Overhead light was provided from a 70’s style swag lamp casting a “just bright enough to read” warmth. It was a comfortable throne for my Dad ( Bud Thomas) to do his crossword puzzles. Under that lamp, he would consistently read three full newspapers a day. Family court was presided over by him on current events or the latest ball games involving any of his three sons. Answers to questions were often uttered from behind that newspaper. The words, “No, that’s not necessary” were more commonly spoken than the alternative of: “Sure son, go ahead and take the car. And by the way, here’s a five-spot to spend. Have fun!”

While watching a youth recreation league baseball game (14 and under age group) a couple nights ago, my wife and I made several observations. The evening weather was perfect and we were comfortably seated along the third base line in my truck. In between gobbles of tater tots and spoonfuls of a fried ice cream shake (my new favorite flavor), I regaled her with stories of my baseball career that was played in this very same park, on this very same field. I commented how everything pretty much looked the same. The exception being how neatly the actual diamond is now manicured. Kudos to our city rec baseball director, Joel Webb.

It is a truism that one must travel or live elsewhere to learn about your home. Like many small-town farm boys, I could not wait to get away from home, whether it be to college or church mission service. I can still remember glancing up into the rearview mirror at the sight of my forlorn mother standing in the driveway, watching me squeal the tires escaping to start my college life in Provo, Utah. I had packed a suitcase with clothes lovingly stitched by her with my name on the labels. My saxophone, my stereo and my basketball were jammed into the back seat of my new Camaro and I beat a fast path out of town. This was after “borrowing” a tank full of gas from the farm tank out back!

Ben Franklin tells a story of his youth when he came upon a few extra pence in his pockets. Eager to spend it, he rushed to a local shop where a variety of goods, including toys, were on display. His eyes and ears were drawn to a whistle that, to him, made a delightful sound when brought to his lips. He gladly handed over all the coinage he carried and galloped off towards home, whistling with each stride. Throughout the house he roamed, showing off his newfound joy and toy. Explanation of his purchase to his family, including brothers, sisters and cousins brought the sad realization to Ben that he had grossly overpaid for the whistle due to his impulsive enthusiasm.