Chris Hardie

A decade ago, Chris Hardie held the future in his arms. It felt good. It still feels good today as his grandson turns 10 years old.

We wear masks. We sanitize. We keep our distance. We avoid crowds. We voluntarily limited capacity in our business. Despite all those precautions we still caught COVID-19 in mid-November.

Ice harvesting was once a major business in Wisconsin, and the invention of the refrigerated railcar meant Wisconsin ice was a valuable export commodity.

Living in the country means glimpses of wildlife are an everyday occurrence. Lately, we’ve had a flock of wild turkeys hanging around our yard and next door at my mother’s house.

The Westby tournament is one of the last vestiges of what once was a series of ski jumps that ran from Prairie du Chien to Cameron, cutting a swathe through the heart of Norwegian settlements in western Wisconsin.

The 11 miles of railroad between Ettrick and Blair is long gone, but the story remains of “the little town that could.”

He was more embarrassed than injured, but icy steps led to a fall for Chris Hardie on a recent early morning walk with the family dog.

I keep hearing the dreaded polar vortex that brought -40 degrees and even worse to our neck of the woods two years ago may be back. Soon. Assuredly. It’s coming. Sometime. Maybe

Burns Night, a Scottish tradition celebrating the life and poetry of Robert Burns, is an evening of music with bagpipes, singing, dancing, poetry, Scottish food, and, of course, whisky.

One benefit of aging is developing a sense of perspective, realizing life is a compilation of moments. It’s the beauty of moments we remember forever.