Why I write about the man in cowboy boots
My dad was a feed store man in the Great Valley of California. He was a country boy from the South Dakota plains, and I don’t think he ever spent a day without his feet in cowboy boots.
love
What’s love got to do with the nut business?
When I think about love, I remember how my childhood friend, Danny, and I used to gather black walnuts and sell them to my dad at his feed store. There were dozens of black walnut trees around the dairy where Danny lived, and his dad was too busy milking cows to take an interest in them.
How to find the root of truth
A few months ago, I had lunch with a long-time friend who was moving across country. After our sandwiches and burgers, the time came for that farewell hug. As we embraced, I felt the tears squeeze out, and I said, “I’m not crying because you’re leaving. I’m crying because, in your leaving, I feel how much I love you.”