I grew up on chocolate chip cookies. My mom baked a batch every week for us seven kids. We ate them as snacks, packed them in our school lunches, and enjoyed them as a bedtime treat with a glass of milk. Warm from the oven, cold from the freezer, we loved them every way. I honestly thought everyone ate chocolate chip cookies.

The other day, Warren and I took a spur-of-the-moment drive to Blue Earth, Minnesota. I wanted a photo with the giant for a new website I’m working on. Warren gave me a funny look, but at least he didn’t roll his eyes! We headed south on Highway 169, surrounded by beautiful fields of corn, soybeans, and hay. Forty-four miles later, we reached the junction of I-90 and Highway 169, and there he was, looming ahead, the 55.5-foot-tall Jolly Green Giant himself!

This past week, I lost my aunt and godmother, my dad’s only sister. Though they weren’t biological siblings, having both been adopted as young children, no blood relatives could have been closer. They clung to each other as if they were the only two friends in the world. When my dad went to heaven first, it was incredibly hard on Gloria.

Today, Sunday, April 27, 2025, marks the 50th Anniversary of the Fall of Saigon. In 1975, I was a student at what we then called a Voc-Tech school. I grew up during the Vietnam Era. Boys just a little older than me served in Vietnam. I wrote letters to soldiers stationed there. My uncle, who served in the Air Force, flew missions over Vietnam, reaching the rank of Colonel.

The Holidays! Oh, how I love this magical season. But what does that really mean? I love the gatherings of friends and neighbors, whether over a steaming mug of hot chocolate or a cold beer. I cherish the joy of baking treats to share and the arrival of holiday cards and greetings delivered by our faithful mail carriers. I marvel at the twinkling lights that adorn the neighborhood, each one a spark of festivity.

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