By Don Dreger – Vegreville, Alta.
Don’t laugh at me my daughters
I know that I am growing old.
I can’t remember what I said,
Or what I have been told.
Don’t laugh at me my daughters
It’s not much fun, I say.
Just when I get a thought
It seems to slip away.
Don’t laugh at me my daughters
For when I am gone and dead,
I know that you will wish
That you could laugh with me instead.
By P. Gail Harrod – Ottawa, Ont. In the late 1940s in Regina, Sask., my parents tried to provide us with every experience they could. One winter day, dad brought home a pair of secondhand [continue…]
By Doris (Russell) Anderson – Grenfell, Sask. Many years ago, I received a registered letter summoning me to jury service. I was instantly petrified! I’d received teacher’s training and it was often a challenge to [continue…]
By Muriel Nelson – Beechy, Sask. When my friends I chance to meet How are you? they will say I reply, I’m just fine And how are you today? I don’t hear too well And [continue…]
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