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My grandparents received exactly one paycheck per year, usually in mid-August when they took calves to market. I was probably 5 or 6 years old the first time I got to go to the sale and sit in the grandstand as the cattle were auctioned off in lots.

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We all have this core memory that reminds us of the day we gained consciousness. The type of memory where a person can point to the moment they felt their being and their place in the world. 

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A warm heart, unbreakable smile and butterflies in your stomach…I’m not talking about love. No, I’m talking about something far more powerful and caring, community restaurants. 

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I am greatly concerned about giving Covid vaccines to children and adolescents/teenagers. Healthy children under 12 have nearly zero risk of dying from Covid disease, and the risk gets smaller and smaller the younger the children are. A child aged 12 or under has a greater chance of dying fr…

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Once upon a memory, my mother held my hand while we walked from our small apartment in Turku to the local market. I can still see the spring dew just starting to blossom on every green surface it could find. I can still hear the whizzing of cars when they sped past us. I can still smell the …

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Now that the weather is frigid in Kansas, I’m reminded of growing up south of Abilene as a Tween.

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Editor’s note: The following is not critical of our local Dickinson County Health Department. However, someone with the Kansas Department of Health and Environment which is leading the coronavirus vaccination drive  needs to rethink the application.

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It was a hot day in August.

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I have gone to the left.

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Christmas is just around the corner.

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Black Friday last week seemed like any other day to me.

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Maybe not since Delbert Dunmire was throwing out cash in 1990 has money been given away around the city of Abilene.

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Often when I hear a song, it sparks a memory from the past.

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There is a book on my desk that features a portrait of former President Barack Obama.

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Nobody ever accused news people of being graceful eaters.

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The first two times that I voted, it was through the U.S. Postal Service by absentee ballot.

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What a strange year 2020 has been the last seven months.

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My first year in college I invented the “wrinkled look.”

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The vast majority of U.S. citizens have never witnessed events we, here in the Midwest, have seen.

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Before Kathy and I exchanged vows, we attended one of those pre-marriage counseling classes.

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Our deck overlooks a gnarly tree.

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The school mascot during my middle school-aged years was a Spartan.

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Are you ready for some football?

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I’ve written about the post office in the past.

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Here is some good advice for young married men: don’t forget your wedding anniversary and do something creative on the big ones.

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I tried my best to recall an awards show during the actors’ strike in which there was no audience. 

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The political mudslinging postcards seem to have gotten larger this year.

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The other morning while getting prepped for a day at the office, I brushed my teeth, used some of my long lasting deodorant and added a squirt or two of cologne.

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About the time I found out I was going to be a father, it was my belief I was going to be a very open-minded dad.

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Some call it a rut.

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It was almost four years ago when U.S. Senator Jerry Moran said he couldn’t buy a tie from a local clothing store in Kansas anymore.

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I have never covered a riot but I can relate to the journalists trying to cover last weekend’s events.

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In light of members of the media from MSNBC, CNN, the Minneapolis Star and others being shot at during rioting this weekend, Sunday morning I penned a piece about journalists putting themselves in harm’s way.

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There was a time when I could, well actually did, walk into RHV to replace the vacuum tube for a television set.

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I was sitting in the far back seat of a 727.

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eLearning, that is learning by means other than attending brick and mortar schools, is not a new concept.

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Since the beginning of time, some estimate in Egypt long before Jesus Christ walked the Earth, writers have been penning about time in poems, songs and books.

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“Is that a sweet onion or a yellow onion?” the grocery store checker asked me.

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In hindsight, Kathy’s and my field trip Sunday may not have been the brightest activity during a pandemic.

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I might have been six years old when I went to the Brookville Hotel to eat family-style chicken.

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A month ago I was sitting in my private office contemplating a vacation for an upcoming milestone anniversary.