The father of the Johnson brood, Dale Johnson, recently passed away, and I stopped by the service last night to pay my respects and see who turned up. All of them did.
We reminisced a little, and I stopped by the Johnson home here to visit and enjoy some company. Like our family, many of them are artistic, creative sorts who take life by the horns.
I was reminded too of the plight of poor Mrs. Jacobsen, whom I remember as an old crab who chased kids off her lawn. She lived in a little house behind ours, crowded in there among the rambunctious children, then young adults. Poor old lady--she had a reason to grouse.