<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664610312782073540</id><updated>2012-02-16T06:04:10.069-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pappy's Papers</title><subtitle type='html'>My father died in May of 2005.  While cleaning out his home we found short essays, random quotes and thoughts, and even a few poems.  We knew he had been writing, but did not know how much.  These papers have been a true treasure.  They have given me a glimpse into his life, mind, heart and soul.  This blog is my attempt to preserve "Pappy's Papers."

***All posts are typed exactly as they were written by my father***</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>april</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05177636805434931850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664610312782073540.post-7476499713802018261</id><published>2011-09-01T18:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-01T19:32:08.368-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"In The Moment"</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;11/4/02 9:15am&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sitting in my favorite place. In a room called the dinnette, when it was built onto the house in 1941. It's 8 1/2 ft x 10 ft and has a round wood table and 4 highbacked wood chairs. I am looking out of the windows to the south. It is where I like to write and read. It is overcast fall day, most of the leaves have fallen. I will mulch today. I will not rake. On each side of the windows are corner shelves, and on them are the die cast replicas of some of my favorite cars, truck &amp;amp; airplanes and my WD 45 Allis Chalmers Tractor. There are no birds in the bird feeder probably becuase there isn't any food in it. The birds can still find food. When the snow covers the ground, I will feed them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664610312782073540-7476499713802018261?l=pappyspapers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/feeds/7476499713802018261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2011/09/in-moment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/7476499713802018261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/7476499713802018261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2011/09/in-moment.html' title='&quot;In The Moment&quot;'/><author><name>april</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05177636805434931850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664610312782073540.post-724174470513359821</id><published>2011-08-07T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-07T12:23:43.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My God and I: Stewardship Partners</title><content type='html'>I grew up in a Christian home as my parents and their parents. I was baptized and confirmed in the Christian faith. I attended Sunday school and church services with my family every Sunday. As I grew older, I didn't like the Ten Commandments because I didn't like the rules, or the way some people chose to interpret them. Although there were times I questioned the workings of the Church, I always believed in God. Living on a farm, God's miracles were all wround me, but as a young man, I was often too busy living to notice life.&lt;br /&gt;Once I started to farm on my own with help from my dad, I began to see God's plan reveal itself. The season changes and how everything works together is amazing. However, I also learned very quickly how man messes up the rhythm of His plan. When a pasture is overgrazed, weeds grow to cover and heal the land. When people use monoculture, they grow the same crops year after year; the nutrients are drianed from the soil and weeds try to recoup the land. When farmers try to keep the soil black, God tries to cover it. When my grandchildren and great-grandchildren realize how the farmers of my generation cared for Mother Earth, they will be appalled. An integral part of my Christian heritage was the belief that it was the duty of mankind to be good stewards of the land. However, the governmnt and its many programs did not always understand what it meant to be good land stewards, and for many years, farmers were encouraged by agricultural schools, county agents, seed and commercial companies to produce more. Farmers were &lt;em&gt;sold&lt;/em&gt; on the idea if they planted more land every year that produced bigger yeilds, they would make a profit, so farmers grew more and received less for it; it was called overproduction. Even with overproduction, farmers were told to grow more. Another idea generated by farm programs was that in order to make a living off the soil, farmers had to supplement the ground with chemical fertilizers - produce more, then farmers would make money, and the vivious cycle of man verses Mother Nature ran its course, and, finally, a lot of farmers went broke.&lt;br /&gt;Nature cannot be violated without consequences. Not paying attention to the fact that the soil is filled with life causes many problems. The land and the earth are living organisms. There are billions of necessary organisms in the soil, and toxic fertilizersnsuch as anhydrous ammonia, which create higher crop yeilds for a short time, cause irreversible damage to the organisms that live in the soil. It is just amazing how well-meaning people make poor decisions based on so-called logic that result in disasters. Rivers meander for a reason and changing the course of a river, which includes building a a dam or building a flood plain, for the most part, is not a good idea. Most individuals including educated engineers do not understand the complexities of the land to make changes that are positive. Every day as I look out my window I see God's work, but I also notice man's interference with God's work. Today, I am much wiser then I was in my youth-life is a good teacher. Therefore, when I hear the song of the meadowlark, it reminds me that I need to listen to the wonders of life around me. All this cannot be an accident; it's all perfect.&lt;br /&gt;Everything that I have is a blessing from God and is to be used in accordance with His good and gracious will. In the Bible, God reminds His people that "The land is mine" (Lev. 25:23). "All beasts of the forest are mine...and the cattle upon a thousand hills. I know all the fowls of the mountains; and the wild beasts of the field are mine." (Psalm 50:10-11). St. Paul wrote in his letter to Timothy, "We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out" (Tim. 6:7). Therefore, all hat I have, and all that I am, is a gift from God Almighty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;written February 2003&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664610312782073540-724174470513359821?l=pappyspapers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/feeds/724174470513359821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2011/08/my-god-and-i-stewardship-partners.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/724174470513359821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/724174470513359821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2011/08/my-god-and-i-stewardship-partners.html' title='My God and I: Stewardship Partners'/><author><name>april</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05177636805434931850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664610312782073540.post-8732389908724364461</id><published>2011-07-13T06:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T06:06:37.598-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scrap Paper Wisdom</title><content type='html'>Everyone travels, but not everyone &lt;em&gt;explores&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664610312782073540-8732389908724364461?l=pappyspapers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/feeds/8732389908724364461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2011/07/scrap-paper-wisdom.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/8732389908724364461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/8732389908724364461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2011/07/scrap-paper-wisdom.html' title='Scrap Paper Wisdom'/><author><name>april</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05177636805434931850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664610312782073540.post-4515687276754016384</id><published>2011-05-24T19:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T19:49:24.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How true.....</title><content type='html'>"Old as she was she still missed her daddy sometimes."&lt;br /&gt;-Gloria Naylor&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664610312782073540-4515687276754016384?l=pappyspapers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/feeds/4515687276754016384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2011/05/how-true.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/4515687276754016384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/4515687276754016384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2011/05/how-true.html' title='How true.....'/><author><name>april</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05177636805434931850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664610312782073540.post-6844306057209801468</id><published>2011-05-14T07:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T07:14:00.722-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What will I still have when I am old........</title><content type='html'>I don't know, of all of toys I have and want nothing seems so important when I am really old. Perhaps something neat to drive. I grew-up in the country and it was too far to walk or ride my bicycle to. So when I got my first car, and old 1929 Model A Ford, it was freedom to go places and my wheels have been freedom to me all my life.&lt;br /&gt;That would be the hardest to give up. Maybe by that time one of my daughters or grand daughters will have a neat sports car and take me out for rides.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664610312782073540-6844306057209801468?l=pappyspapers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/feeds/6844306057209801468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2011/05/what-will-i-still-have-when-i-am-old.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/6844306057209801468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/6844306057209801468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2011/05/what-will-i-still-have-when-i-am-old.html' title='What will I still have when I am old........'/><author><name>april</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05177636805434931850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664610312782073540.post-5388469385122472082</id><published>2009-11-06T10:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T10:30:42.184-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter to Future Self</title><content type='html'>Dear Dan,&lt;div&gt;Hi, I hope this letter finds you well and in good health and feeling well enough to enjoy life.  Time has a way of slipping away from us.  How are your girls and grandkids and great grandkids?  I hope you were able to get your sports car while you still can enjoy it.  Did you get to travel old Route 66 with your brothers, or better yet with your new bride?  Did you get married?  I know you didn't like to live alone.  Did you get to make more trips to Texas and watch more races.  I know you were following Sarah Fisher racing she has done well, may still win the IRL Championship.  I hope so.  Did you and Mandi go on the balloon ride you promised her on her 18th birthday?  Did you get you RC restored and take it to some show?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Please Take Care,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Danny Johnson &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664610312782073540-5388469385122472082?l=pappyspapers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/feeds/5388469385122472082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2009/11/letter-to-future-self.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/5388469385122472082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/5388469385122472082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2009/11/letter-to-future-self.html' title='Letter to Future Self'/><author><name>april</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05177636805434931850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664610312782073540.post-8317371862569766828</id><published>2009-09-13T07:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T07:59:52.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost Things</title><content type='html'>When I went to high school at the AC Crookston it was a 6 month school. We were required to do a home project during the summer. One summer I chose the tractor project because you could win a neat wrench set diamond-crescent adjustable wrenches and 7 or 8 chrome plated wrenches on a black velvet board. I worked hard on this project, kept track of the fuel, repairs etc. When we had the awards for the home projects I won the wrench set. I was so proud. I didn't use them right away but later I started to use them and lose them. Oh how I wish I had them back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664610312782073540-8317371862569766828?l=pappyspapers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/feeds/8317371862569766828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2009/09/lost-things.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/8317371862569766828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/8317371862569766828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2009/09/lost-things.html' title='Lost Things'/><author><name>april</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05177636805434931850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664610312782073540.post-2797975919448888514</id><published>2009-09-01T17:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T17:40:14.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deposit Ticket Wisdom</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful commited citizens can change the world.  Indeed its the only thing that ever has."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*found on the back of a deposit ticket from May 4th, 1994*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664610312782073540-2797975919448888514?l=pappyspapers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/feeds/2797975919448888514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2009/09/deposit-ticket-wisdom.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/2797975919448888514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/2797975919448888514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2009/09/deposit-ticket-wisdom.html' title='Deposit Ticket Wisdom'/><author><name>april</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05177636805434931850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664610312782073540.post-8996857913982335013</id><published>2009-08-31T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T19:03:32.245-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Father's Dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dreams&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will win a race&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will help others&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will be loved again&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will soar in a glider&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will own a sports car&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My girls will always be little&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will see the Memphis Belle&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;No one will go to bed hungry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will ride the wind in a balloon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;There will be a woman president&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will do the Hot Rod Power Tour&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will drag race my Lil' Red Truck&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will spend time in a fishing village&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will cruise across a lake in a sailboat&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Alzheimer's disease will not be a problem&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will compete in the Great American Race&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will travel old Route 66 in my convertible&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will have restored all my trucks and tractors&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will drive 150 miles per hour on the Autobahn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will have the wisdom of the ages and the resiliency of my youth&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;May you always have dreams!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Christmas letter 2002&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664610312782073540-8996857913982335013?l=pappyspapers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/feeds/8996857913982335013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-fathers-dreams.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/8996857913982335013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4664610312782073540/posts/default/8996857913982335013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pappyspapers.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-fathers-dreams.html' title='My Father&apos;s Dreams'/><author><name>april</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05177636805434931850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
