I had a lovely weekend in Wisconsin celebrating the baptism of my youngest nephew, and godson, Fred. I got sick on the way home and it turned out to be strep throat, so that hasn't been fun, but, far worse than that, I came home to the news that someone I care about had just unexpectedly died.
It was the only son of the man who works for me, who has mowed my pastures and kept my farm in shape for always. I've thought of trying to write about him--the man who died, not his father--so you could understand what a good and genuine person he was, but somehow I can't. Not because I don't know how, but because it doesn't feel right. I suspect my children would say this is not my story; I suspect they would be right.
Anyway it's a sad day for us here. Tomorrow I'll tell you a better story. This is all I have for now.
It was the only son of the man who works for me, who has mowed my pastures and kept my farm in shape for always. I've thought of trying to write about him--the man who died, not his father--so you could understand what a good and genuine person he was, but somehow I can't. Not because I don't know how, but because it doesn't feel right. I suspect my children would say this is not my story; I suspect they would be right.
Anyway it's a sad day for us here. Tomorrow I'll tell you a better story. This is all I have for now.
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