It’s that time of year when everyone considering buying me a Christmas gift asks, “What to give a guy who has everything?” It’s true; there are no more TV channels I don’t already get, I have the two perfect dogs and just bought a new (well, a ’97, but clean) truck.
The great thing about this time of year is the holiday spirit prompting our generous citizenry to give until it hurts. When I was on the board of the Humane Society, we always appealed to the public for financial aid for our needy animals during the Thanksgiving/Christmas season. That’s America.
As occasionally happens, a myriad of unexpressed thoughts jumble my mind until a substance resembling guacamole begins oozing from my ears. So I’ll utilize my release valve known as the Powell Trib. Let’s begin:
Growing up, I was a slender kid, believe it or not. But, sadly, I’ve never been athletic. I was often the last girl to be picked for a team to play anything in PE classes — softball, volleyball, whatever.
After two weeks of nearly non-stop research, this is how I believe we arrived at the Willwood Dam/Shoshone River 200,000 cubic yard silt spill, ecological disaster and fish kill of 2016 — and how we might proceed.
It was a somber, cancer weekend days before Halloween, and nothing is more ghoulish than cancer. I attended my brother Paul’s wonderful wife Shelia’s (Claudson) funeral and later that evening, a cancer benefit for sweet Teri (Barhaugh) Patton.