My father was a farmer.
He was just 23 years old when I was born. Three years later, my brother Henry entered our world.
We were sharecroppers living on an 80-acre dairy farm near Manheim, Pennsylvania. My memories of this farm are almost entirely happy ones.
Below is an excerpt from Chapter 15, “Dueling with Daddy,” from my forthcoming memoir Blush: A Mennonite Girl Meets a Glittering World
Intro: One early summer day, when Henry and I were about three years older than we are on the picture above, Daddy came home with a new bike for Henry. When I saw how much nicer Henry’s bike was than mine, I decided to take matters into my own hands. As readers will have discovered, this decision often leads to trouble:
My New Beginning today? Usually Stuart makes our breakfasts. Today I made an omelet with kale and fresh pineapple in a bowl on the side. When I presented the platter, I drizzled on some sea salt and thought of Daddy making that pinstripe on my whitewall bike tires.