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When we hauled our dry and brittle Frazier Fir out of the living room in January, a blanket of needles was left in the carpeted pathway. I just know we will find those needles with our bare feet for the rest of the year! So, what’s next in the career for these “real” trees?
This month’s column dedicated to those born in another century.
“What century were you born in, buddy?” I ask myself sometimes when I accidently write the year as 1999 on a check (Yes, I still write checks because they are like cash… that green stuff the government prints which is supposed to be like currency)...
I am no Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino. No shotgun. No tough, crusty old bigot guy attitude. Clint and I don’t have a lot in common, but there are a few similarities. I can be a bit crusty and I can spit. I don’t really know nor hang out with my neighbors. Oh, and our characters have similar views on private property rights.