Amid Change, Helpfulness By Carver Stellmon The valley lay thick with trees. Entangled willows and choking cottonwoods diffused from the banks of the Boise River to mix with sage and the occasional pine that stretched to a checkerboard
Fitness through Wrestling By Kerry Schultz The two wrestlers stood in a circle marked on the mat and stared intently at each other. This was the first time I’d seen a live wrestling match and I imagined the
Served Up by the Dog Whisperer By India Caedmon Photos by Stephanie Tsuneko To those of you who are grounded, the Aldape Pass is a dip in the mountains adjacent to the Treasure Valley—a relatively untouched stretch of
I met my mother, Wilma Pickett Bromley, when I was eight years old, and it was love at first sight for me.
She died recently in Star at age ninety-three. She was a tough, tough lady—that’s how women were in the “Greatest Generation.” I’m more of a dreamer, with a heart that’s broken easily and heals slowly.
She had just married my dad in Seattle when we met. I was from his first marriage. It may have taken a little longer for her to return my love, as I was sick with malnutrition and viral pneumonia. I was taken to a doctor, who advised that I should be put in a hospital and allowed to die there. That made my new mom mad. She picked me up and said, “If that’s how you feel, I darned well won’t leave her here.”
On the way home, she told me, “Hospital people don’t know everything. I’m a farm girl, I know how to make you well.”
I thought she was an angel. Continue reading
