In February of 1978 the snow was knee-deep and my dad was at work with our sole source of transportation. We had just moved into a house that my parents and I still refer to as “Mitchell’s” because, you guessed it, the Mitchell’s owned it. There’s a house across the road and a couple of houses that come into sight after harvest, but that’s about it—the nearest town of any size is about 30 minutes away. Continue reading “That Time I Learned a Hard Lesson about Coffee Tables”
Like most people, I was born into a family that included more than just my parents. Some of those family members where photographed while holding me when I was less than a year old. So, now, almost 40 years later, those lucky individuals get to have their pictures posted on this blog.
So, here I am, two weeks and six days old, napping on a blanket my Great-Grandma Smith made for me. I’m surrounded by a collection of toys that were gifted to me. I can’t recall who made the turtle (help me out here faithful family members!). But I do know that my parents had everyone sign the bottom of it when they came to see me. My mom’s Uncle Sam Lowe made sure the “O” in Lowe was right where the turtles missing butthole would be. I think Sam and I share a sense of humor. Continue reading “Let’s Meet (some of) the Family”
It all started here. I still can’t get my hair to cooperate and I still make that face—I’m making it now. I never noticed before how much I looked like a hardened criminal when I was born.Continue reading “Difficult Beginnings”