Editorial / Opinions

Granted, I don’t hear as well as I did in my younger days, but I swear it’s getting more difficult for me to understand people who have thick accents in their speech. And by thick accents, I really mean people who were raised somewhere other than the Ozark hills.

Times are getting tough for everyone. Recent occurrances on my parent’s farm have reminded me of this. No, I’m not talking about the effects of the drought – I’m talking economically.

Granted, I don’t hear as well as I did in my younger days, but I swear it’s getting more difficult for me to understand people who have thick accents in their speech. And by thick accents, I really mean people who were raised somewhere other than the Ozark hills.

A familiar name is buzzing around the Ozarks Farm & Neighbor world and I must say it seems I have some pretty big shoes to fill if I'm going to live up to the "Lynzee/Lindsay" name. I've experienced every emotion known to man in my first few days here but mostly I am just flat out excited to be joining the OFN world. I already feel right at home here – maybe because everyone has welcomed me with arms wide open or perhaps it's due to the cattle across the road that I can see from my desk – either way I think I'm going to like it here.

Early August is the time of year for class reunions. My wife, Pat, went to school in Huntsville, Ark. When I came to Arkansas in 1960, I taught school in Madison County. I taught my wife’s younger sister, Rita, who was in my biology class. She always took credit, or the blame, for getting Pat and I together.

About a month before I turned out my bulls with the cows this past spring, one of the older ones came up lame. When I ran him through the chute to check on his problem, I realized his lameness was irreversible and proceeded to take him to the nearest livestock auction. This put me in a bind, being one bull short just a mere two weeks before turn-out time. Most of the better bulls of breeding age were gone by this time so I made some calls.

A familiar name is buzzing around the Ozarks Farm & Neighbor world and I must say it seems I have some pretty big shoes to fill if I'm going to live up to the "Lynzee/Lindsay" name. I've experienced every emotion known to man in my first few days here but mostly I am just flat out excited to be joining the OFN world. I already feel right at home here- maybe because everyone has welcomed me with arms wide open or perhaps it's due to the cattle across the road that I can see from my desk – either way I think I'm going to like it here.

About a month before I turned out my bulls with the cows this past spring, one of the older ones came up lame. When I ran him through the chute to check on his problem, I realized his lameness was irreversible and proceeded to take him to the nearest livestock auction. This put me in a bind, being one bull short just a mere two weeks before turn-out time. Most of the better bulls of breeding age were gone by this time so I made some calls.

We all reach that point in our life when we look back and recall what made us – us. I’ve done a lot of soul searching recently after turning 30 years old. I thought that number was so far away, but somehow it snuck up on me. And, as I evaluate my life at 30 I’ve come to realize a few things…

The western writers of the America Annual Conference were in Bismarck, S.D., this past June. I was hoping to sneak off and fish for some walleye, but that never happened. Days before I left, I was on the phone talking about road conditions with a nice lady in Missouri’s road department. “You better take I-35 E to Des Moines,” she warned. “The rest of the country is flooded.”