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.
memory
It’s never too late to have a happy childhood
A seminal moment in my life occurred when I was barely three years old. I remember sitting on the kitchen counter, pouring chocolate chips into Mom’s cookie dough. In a nod to our teamwork, my very pregnant mother said, “Two heads are better than one.”