My greatest joy in life is to sit down for a half hour and write a story. It could be on any subject, God gifted me with a huge imagination. I know very little about grammar. Anything that I run across usually is interesting to me. I had a banana for breakfast. How do bananas grow?
I commend West Bend News for offering a contest to students. I have found Angel and Bryce to be very nice people to work with. I think there is still a place for newspapers. They said radio was obsolete when TV came along, but I listen to radio everyday. I find I can understand something by reading it, perhaps more than hearing it.
I didn’t start writing until I was retired. A minister announced he was having a story writing class one night, and I was excited. There were only me and a 17 year old boy and we began exchanging stories each Sunday. I still have his stories. He wrote a couple of books but quit when he went to college. I have been greatly encouraged by a granddaughter who reads everything l write.
I had what I consider to be an ideal childhood. I was raised on a farm and my dad loved farming. The work was hard but it was fun. My dad always had the best crops around and I considered him to be a prosperous farmer. We also went to farmers market. My mother helped with chores and the egg money was hers to keep. I had a dozen beehives when I was in grade school and always had honey to sell. I also had a flock of ducks and sold duck eggs to a Chinese laundry in Fort Wayne. I always had an income.
If you have a mother and father that love you, you are the most blessed person on this planet. Even if you have single parent there is a bond which can’t be broken. I know of a lad that was raised by his grandmother, in poor Appalachia, and he became vice president of the United States, and also wrote a book.
If you will indulge me I’d like to tell you a bit about my parents. My dad was a big man and probably the strongest man I have known. He loved people and everybody knew him. My mom was a bit more reserved but had many friends. If I met someone, I would tell them, “I’m Monroe’s son,” and they would know instantly who I was.
I will always love the farm, and I miss it. My dad was always the first to plant crops. I miss the rotation of seasons now. It will soon be time to sew oats, then in May we will plant corn, and in June we will be making hay. Now July will come and I will wonder where did April go? Is it time to cultivate corn? I would give anything to be able to spend one more day at home.
—James Neuhouser
