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He checked out the heifers and reported back to his father, who later bought them. And Dad somehow found reasons to keep lurking around Mom’s home place. And there was no way they could have known where the tides of life would sweep them as the years and then the decades rolled on like a flood. They were very young when they started their journey through life together. Mom passed away in early 2014, up in Aylmer, and was buried there. His father, Joseph K., passed away from a heat stroke back in 1940. Use our poll questions search tool to search our database of polling questions.We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. A rare milestone will arrive this Sunday, December 10th. Ninety-six years ago on that day, my father was born. The work of his life, his faults and failures, the track of his deeds and how they healed or wounded those around him. Dad came along quite a few years after that stain was unleashed. He and his parents arrived one day, and stayed overnight. The woman of the place squawked in surprise to see a grubby little boy in her home. He quickly ran out and over one house, to the right place. I wondered what the world looked like to a five-year-old child that morning long ago, in Nappanee, Indiana. Dad spoke of the dry goods man, selling bolts of cloth for dresses and denim for Amish barn door pants. The man kept a running tally in his head, and when it came time to settle up, he had the total price all ready. Either that, or the adults in his childhood world never took the time to tell him because it wasn’t important. It took a generation or two, to live down the stain of such a deep shame as that. They lived right there, in the outskirts of town, Dad told me. A sparse market, compared to the one we take for granted, but a market nonetheless.

The Waglers just weren’t known for their longevity, that way. From here, today, I stand and look at who my father is and who he was in his lifetime. That has come out countless times in my writings in the past. I could be off a bit on this particular observation, but I don’t think I am. That’s the way things went a lot, back in Old Aylmer.

Whistling a merry little tune, he walked up to the house and knocked on the door, to see if any of the menfolk were around. And there stood the most beautiful young woman Dad had ever seen.

He had come to check out the heifers that were for sale.

That morning, standing in the midday sun in front of that lovely young woman, Dad stammered and stuttered a little, but got the words out.

The heifers were out behind the barn, if he wanted to check them out.

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