Come Visit My Grave

The following poem was submitted by Jim Rolfes of LeMars, Iowa, whose wife is Luella Meyer Rolfes (TLHS Class of 1968). Jim writes: I am sending a poem that I wrote about 30 years ago and has been used by many for Memorial Day programs throughout the country.

Little Pasture on the Prairie

Small-scale shepherding is not a lucrative undertaking, especially when one has a fiber flock mostly composed of pets. In an effort to not lose money on my shepherding habit, I started a business with an old friend a few years ago called Plainsong Fiber.

A little awareness goes a long way

As I headed down the street past the grocery store, I noticed John Linderman and a couple employees wrestling armfuls of cardboard to pack in the dumpster across the street. They were fighting the wind, strong enough to make a cloud of gritty dust and sand - the kind that pelts your car windshield.

Little Pasture on the Prairie

It was a dry winter, and an even drier spring, but the flock and herd have done well in the mild weather.

The healing power of art

Artists and medical personnel both know the importance of art. The famous nurse Florence Nightingale once said, “Variety of form and brilliancy of color in the object presented to patients are an actual means to recovery.

Support fairness in journalism

Fairness is not a partisan issue. Fairness is the goal of the Journalism Competition and Preservation Act currently being considered in the United States Congress. The bill has bipartisan support in both the Senate and the House of Representatives. H.R. 1735 / S.

Stray Thoughts: Graduation Tribute

We were there when you took your first steps... you waited so very long to walk. It could be you just wanted to be sure before you took those first steps, but they were confident and assured like you had been at it since day one.

Little Pasture on the Prairie

It’s before 5:00 am, and murky gray light creeps beneath the curtain of the bedroom window. Outside, the robins are sharing their first exchanges of the day, while the flock of grackles that congregate in the western windbreak reply: “Hush-up hush-up, we’ve heard enough.” I peek out.

Stray Thoughts: Perfect

Did I listen loud enough...so that you knew I heard, or hear just what I wanted to, and ignore your every word? Did I see you as you see you, or see you as part of me? Did I help you reach your dreams and let you be who you could be? I hope I saw you as you might...

Dear Moms, I See You

This has been an exhausting year for moms. Last spring, we had no idea we would still be dealing with this pandemic a year later.