Sharks and Pirates
Fri, 2014-09-26 05:00
News Staff
By Renae Brumbaugh
Last week, it was two years since my daddy died. And I miss him, so much. But lest this article turn into a mourning session, which believe me, Daddy would not like at all, I have to tell you how we remembered him. We mowed the lawn. You see, Daddy wasn’t particular about a lot of things. His tools were a mess. The whole garage, as a matter of fact, was typically scattered and strewn with potting soil and hedge clippers and spilled seeds and recycled plastic six-packs from plants, which he would use again and again to start new plants. But his yard? That was another story entirely. Don’t even get me started about the yard in my childhood home.
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