Letters to my Granddaughter: No. 16
[August 5, 2023] In the summer of 1966, just before High School, I helped a local potato farmer with his crops. I don’t remember if I ever had a dirtier job, yet I both enjoyed and hated working the fields because it was a cross between picking cotton and cleaning pigpens; it was smelly, sweltering, filthy, humid, and… Read More »