By: John Carlson— In the wake of closures due to COVID-19, plenty of families are happy that amusement parks such as Cedar Point remain open. Me? I’m way too old to care. My age isn’t the only reason, though. I also blame the lingering psychological effects of the cruel deception played on my sister Patty and me, one that tainted our formative years in the pivotal area of amusement park appreciation. See, we grew up about an hour east of…
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By: John Carlson— When it comes to life’s simple pleasures, it’s hard to beat corn-on-the-cob. Maybe not for everyone, though. Whether it’s for genetic, physiological or psychological reasons, these days you can find somebody somewhere who is allergic to literally any food you’d care to name on God’s green earth. Broccoli, gravy, croutons. There are probably people out there who spend their lives in fear of fatal encounters with a Milk Dud. That being the case, you can surely find…
By: John Carlson— This should get easier, shouldn’t it? Losing a dog, I mean. Nancy recently recited a list of the ones we’ve lost over the years. To that she added one who belonged to our daughter, Katie, plus one who belonged to our son and daughter-in-law, Johnny and Stephanie, their dogs counting as our grand-dogs and, therefore, as family. “There’s Ro,” she began. “Layla. Dandelion. Maggie. Dorothy. Alfie …” And now, Toby. Whenever I hear stories about mean dogs,…
By: John Carlson— There’s something special about rivers. Anybody who’s ever stood on a bank of the mighty Mississippi, or even driven across it on a bridge, knows this. The same magic, albeit on a smaller scale, holds true for lesser rivers, our very own White River among them. That people hereabouts take a proprietary interest in our stretch of the river is proven by the number of folks who volunteer whenever a clean-up day is scheduled. Then there are…
By: John Carlson— This summer’s unprecedented cancellation of the Delaware County Fair and the Indiana State Fair has come as a blow to many, including those of us who, not having grown up within sniffing distance of a farm, know little of the rural life’s magic. Oh sure, we have an inkling of what we’re missing. Herds of chickens, serenely ambling in from the fields at dusk. The joyous mooing of cows, frolicking in the mud after being sheared. The plaintive…
By: John Carlson— My wife wants chickens. I want chickens, too. It’s just that I want the kind of chickens named Original Recipe that Colonel Sanders packs into those red-and-white tubs with the initials “KFC” printed on the side of them. Nancy wants hers in a coop out back. Anyway, I have long been staunchly supportive of her desire to raise chickens within Muncie’s city limits. But that was only because I never dreamed we’d ever actually be allowed to…
By: John Carlson— Gazing out a window into our side yard the other day, Nancy said something I’d never heard her say in thirty-eight years of marriage. “I just saw a duck walk by.” Having been rousted from my easy chair by this startling announcement, I looked, too. Sure enough, there among the chunks of stale wheat bread Nancy had pitched out on our lawn, Mrs. Mallard was casually waddling around like she owned the place. It just further reinforced…
By: John Carlson— These days, I keep thinking I could use a kite. That’s because kites are such happy creations, a fact which has been reinforced in my life on repeated occasions, starting with Mr. Heffernan. Back in the 1950s, he was the neighbor across our backyard fence, the father of my friend Donny, and had a magical way with kites. He’d scribble a question on a slip of paper, like “Who is the greatest TV cowboy? Roy Rogers, Hopalong…
By: John Carlson— This being spring, it is a time of renewal and hope for almost everyone but Nancy and me. For us, it brings only bitterness and shame. This is because we are losing the neighborhood bird races. For example, word got around our neighborhood that some folks were attracting Baltimore orioles using oranges and jelly. Never having seen a Baltimore oriole except on Major League Baseball telecasts, Nancy and I got excited and tried to attract one, too….
By: John Carlson— As you are undoubtedly aware, the Indianapolis 500 is not being run this May. Meanwhile, I also have it on good authority that eternity’s sinners are freezing their butts off because Hell just froze over, A.J. Foyt is opening a chain of ballet studios, and the FDA has determined ordering double-cheese on your pizzas is the key to permanent weight loss. Still, it’s the fact there’s no race this month that truly flummoxes me. Ever since having…