Essays, Stories, Adventures, Dreams Chronicles of a Footloose Forester By Dick Pellek The Parody Defense Only once in a while does the forgotten, third rate would-be crafter of parody who calls himself the Footloose Forester get a response to his missives. He would prefer kudos but, alas, when the...
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Essays, Stories, Adventures, Dreams Chronicles of a Footloose Forester By Dick Pellek A Closer Look at a Picture Worth a Thousand Words Flamengos Tree Nursery, Cape Verde Some people are proud of their humble beginnings. Others are impatient to move on and forget about the past. It was many...
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Essays, Stories, Adventures, Dreams Chronicles of a Footloose Forester By Dick Pellek Moss and Mumblety-peg The game of mumblety-peg is so old that even Mark Twain mentioned it as one of the favorites enjoyed by young boys. It was outdoors, in the summer, and played in the grass. To do...
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I was born in Portsmouth, Ohio on January 15, 1931, during the Depression years. My mom and dad, Ruth Isabel Thrickmorton and Walter Leroy Arnold, were living with my dad's grandparents, Minnie Burkhart and Adolph Arnold, at 814 Eighth Stree, Portsmouth, Ohio. My great-grandparents had built the house in approximately 1892....
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I was born in Portsmouth, Ohio on January 15, 1931, during the Depression years. My mom and dad, Ruth Isabel Thrickmorton and Walter Leroy Arnold, were living with my dad's grandparents, Minnie Burkhart and Adolph Arnold, at 814 Eighth Stree, Portsmouth, Ohio. My great-grandparents had built the house in approximately 1892....
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On the road…again! Afghanistan to Zambia Chronicles of a Footloose Forester By Dick Pellek Can We Remember? Do We Remember? Should We Remember? People who think often about the past engage in subconscious peeking into their personal histories. They see flashes of happy times, stressful times, sad times, times...
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While driving my jaunty Explorer Sportrac, which my wife has named “Sassy Red,” to the dealer some thirty miles away for its scheduled maintenance, I passed some long-familiar scenes. My mind began drifting, conjuring an image of life as it was sixty to seventy years ago. God, how I long for...
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PREFACE: This is the second memoir of a multi-year experience that had a definite impact on my later life. I want to stress that I am sharing these experiences in an effort to give some testimony to the way God has worked in my life and not in any sort of...
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In rummaging through my bookshelf recently selecting books I could donate to our church’s garage sale I came across a collection of stories my next oldest brother, Gene, had written as a columnist for the weekly newspaper in the town in which he grew up He grew up living in and...
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Preface: This is the first "chapter" of what will be a "quadrilogy" chronicling a part of my teen years that had a profound effect on my later life. I do not offer these in any kind of "I'm proud of this" boasting way. If I have any motive other than simply...
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In the fall of 1956 a young woman with four small children moved to Oskaloosa, Iowa, where my family lived. I don’t remember her name and wouldn’t divulge it if I did, so I’ll call her Carol. She came from another State, where she and her children had been battered by...
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Trick or . . . . trick Halloween in the late 20 th, Early 21 st Century is a "holiday" that has completely metamorphosed from the form it had at mid-20 th Century. If a teen-aged boy of those days were somehow magically time-traveled to Halloween night 2014 and saw little...
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On the road...again! Afghanistan to Zambia Chronicles of a Footloose Forester By Dick Pellek This Was Home For More Than 55 Years A picture can prompt 10,000 words this photo was rejected for inclusion in a book of memoirs because of presumed copyright law violation At first glance, the...
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NOTE: This is a "Coming of Age" story. It isn’t pretty nor is it pleasant for me to recall. But life consists of pleasure, pain, success, failure, ugliness and beauty. If my legacy consists of memories of significant events in my life and if it is to be complete and honest, it...
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Perhaps you’ve heard the expression: “Nobody wants to read your diary except your mother,” but if that were true, why do so many of us love autobiographies? Is it because we feel less isolated when somebody else shares his or her secrets? In Diane Keaton’s book: “Let’s Just Say it Wasn’t...
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The Old Cherry Tree When I was eight years old we moved into the house that my father’s grandparents had built in 1882. Many of the plants and trees they’d put in over the years were still thriving. There was an abundance of hollyhocks, peonies, lily of the valley, tea...
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On the road …again! Afghanistan to Zambia Chronicles of a Footloose Forester By Dick Pellek A Short Botanical History Of Home We youngsters might have taken the trees for granted when we were very young, but as we grew older those trees around the house became keepsakes. The old Pellek homestead...
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On the road…again! Afghanistan to Zambia Chronicles of a Footloose Forester By Dick Pellek Always An Amateur Life can be so disheartening when you grow up without good looks, athletic ability, high intelligence, or with physical limitations. Poor posture and annoying mannerisms also add to the handicaps that we...
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