I experience a childlike sense of anticipation when noontime nears and I can ask The Almost Perfect Woman for a crabmeat sandwich.
Robert Skoglund
Posted inOp-eds, Opinion
The humble Farmer: The body electric, and other moments of major discovery
After being stunned by static, I ‘lost’ my pajamas and learned of a wild way to spend 5,000 dollars.
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Posted inOp-eds, Opinion
The humble Farmer: Country store conversations lose none of their wit online
There’s nothing like it for talking about who wrote ‘Tell Aunt Rhody,’ comparing Venice to Monhegan or confessing to blanket hogging.
Posted inOp-eds, Opinion
The humble Farmer: This ought to set the dentist’s teeth on edge
To cap off the day, I wound up feeding a visiting dog our supper. At least he’s a good boy.
Posted inOp-eds, Opinion
The humble Farmer: Just me and my several million closest relatives
My brother started out with a cardboard chart of seven generations – now I’m online trying to trace us back to Attila the Hun.
Posted inOp-eds, Opinion
The humble Farmer: Come on over and help me polish off my produce
For reasons I can’t understand, the only thing on my farmstand that people want is the rhubarb.
Posted inOp-eds, Opinion
The humble Farmer: Not a happy camper
I have no wish to spend a night in the woods with whatever can make recently deceased farm animals dematerialize.
Posted inOp-eds, Opinion
The humble Farmer: Barnum underestimated the number of suckers born every minute
Exhibit A: An FBI agent’s story about a guy named Dave and the rich online girlfriend who he’s never met in person.
Posted inOp-eds, Opinion
The humble Farmer: Old diaries spur new appreciation for those who put up with me
As a 19-year-old in the Coast Guard, I lived on junk food, drove too fast and spent nights ashore at dance halls or roller skating rinks.
Posted inOp-eds, Opinion
The humble Farmer: Road delays, summer guests and other seasonal phenomena
The author also tackles life’s serious questions, such as the proper household uses of Coca-Cola.