Marilyn's Musings

Picture this: My husband, Steve and I, along with several friends are in the Sierra mountains, sitting around a campfire telling stories. (There may have been a little beer involved). As they have every other backpacking trip, the group asked Steve, who is originally from Iowa, to tell his favorite story. He starts in. “A traveling salesman, trying to get to Des Moines before dark, stops at a farmhouse to ask directions. The farmer’s wife introduces him to her husband who is out in the back, slopping the hogs. As the salesman approaches the farmer, he notices one of the hogs has a wooden leg. “I’d be pleased,” he says, “If you would tell me how to get to Des Moines. But before you do, would you tell me how that hog got a wooden leg.” “That’s a real special hog,” the farmer says. “Last year, I was out plowing, the ground was soft and the tractor rolled, pinning me underneath. That hog came running, shoved his way under the tractor and l...