by Freida Marie Crump Greetings from Poosey. I miss the desperados, the days of lawlessness. When I was a youngster living in a farm community the legal rights were fudged a bit because of pure necessity when it came to driving. While the law books said that a young...
by Freida Marie Crump Greetings from Poosey. I can imagine the scene. Og the caveman wakes in his cave, stretches, belches up a bit of the mastodon nuggets from the night before, looks over and sees his wife Ogala still sleeping by the fire, then walks out into the...
by Freida Marie Crump Greetings from Poosey. It’s a tradition as old and storied as church potlucks and yearly prostate exams …each Midwestern town must hold its annual talent show, and Poosey proudly and sometimes less proudly steps up with its own version. The...
by Freida Marie Crump Greetings from Poosey. Olga wouldn’t leave her porch. I was just a kid running wild and loose along the roads ’round Poosey when I noticed her sitting there. She’d come out early that morning to take her usual place in the wooden rocker on her...
by Freida Marie Crump Greetings from Poosey. For all his faults, and they stretch the length of my arm, husband Herb has some good things going for him. Above all the man believes in civility. Yes, he hollers and gripes and moans like a whiney child at times, but when...
