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Rags to Riches to Rags
“Her name was Mary, and she was my friend.” It wasn’t until my mother was almost 80 years old that she could maintain her composer long enough to tell me the story about her friend Mary.
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Dunk-Em
Each year we attended the tiny town of Burnett’s annual Fireman’s Picnic. It was a summer tradition.
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The Boat Title
I think that every man at one time or another has dreamed about owning a fishing boat. Spending lazy summer afternoons on the water and letting your cares float away.
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To Me, He Was Just: My Grandpa
He was the backbone of the Becker family. Whenever there was turbulence in the family, Grandpa was the steadfast figure that everyone looked to for support.
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The Organ
Ma loved to rearrange furniture, it was amazing how many different ways over the years that she could arrange the furniture in the den and living room
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Generation to Generation to Generation
My grandmother taught my mother the skill and art of canning and my mother passed that knowledge down to me.
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My Mother is a Michigan Hillbilly
I have an extraordinary mother. Looking back over the years at all the different ways that my mother has influenced my life, it didn't take me long to come to this conclusion
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The Mystery of the Lost Change
I had talked my brother into starting an investigation business with me, we called ourselves, “The Two Investigators”
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Grandma Test Drives Our Lawn Tractor
Bless her heart, to her death bed Grandma claimed that she never jumped, the tractor vibrated so much that it shook her off.
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Someday I'll Be a Famous Author
Forgotten memories. So often this is a sad topic, and I can understand why. The idea that you forget things as you get older is a real fear for some.
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Mother's Read to Your Kids
Not too long ago I asked my mother if she remembered any of the bedtime stories that she read to my brother and me. I will never forget her answer.
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Proofing a Friendship
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Together Like a Rock
When you first entered the 7th grade, you entered alone. At least that is the way it was for me.
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My Father - The Great White Hunter
Preparation for the Deer Hunt began two weekends before opening day with dad bringing “the box” down from the attic. A plywood box painted aqua that he made to hold all of our deer hunting supplies.
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My Brother vs. the Cherry Tree
Mothers always seem to know what to do, even when faced with the most unusual situations.
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Project Management-Guru
My father, “John Charles DaValt.” The only person to ever call him using his full name was his mother, Evelyn. I called him dad; Ma called him honey and to just about everyone else his first name was Mr.