The Decorah Nespapers
December 15, 2018
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  • Winning at the game of life

     Random, horrific school shootings are becoming more and more common, and no matter the repetitious rhetoric and emotional outpourings of grief and sympathy, the truth is no one really knows what to do about it.

    The nation – even the world – seems to be in a permanent funk over this ever-expanding black cloud that hangs over man and womankind. 

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  • No question about it, the Outlaw can play football
        A young boy grows up on a Northeast Iowa farm where he learns the value of hard work and perseverance. It’s a family business that spans generations, and in order to make it work and pay the bills, everyone has to do their part … and then some. No one gets a free pass and that includes the handsome, strapping lad and his brother and sisters.
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  • Forget prayers, time to get tough

        I’m sick of it. You’re sick of it. We’re all sick of it. But the question remains: What can we do to stop it?

    The recent mass shooting at Parkland High School in Florida took the lives of 17 people – the majority of them young teens who were just starting their lives. Like most kids that age, they were bright-eyed, hopeful and bursting with enthusiasm as they evolved from childhood to the beginning stages of man and womanhood. They had no reason to believe attending school that day would cost them their lives, but, in retrospect, the St. Valentine’s Day massacre was not all that surprising.

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  • The Olympic spirit is exactly what the world needs

     There’s arguably never been a better time for the Olympic Games. I hope the magic of the Olympiad spreads throughout the world and serves as a real sign of hope in these turbulent times. Let the Games begin.

     I’ve been an Olympic devotee since I was 10 years old and watched intently as the U.S. of A. competed in the Games of Rome. Big-time track and field had drawn my attention primarily due to the accomplishments of a young high jumper by the name of John Thomas. 

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  • So long Charlie Manson, you big gob of spit

        I received the perfect 30-year wedding day anniversary present when I awoke Sunday morning to learn that one of the biggest gobs of spit to ever walk the earth was dead.

    At the undeserved ripe old age of 83, mass murderer Charles Manson had finally succumbed to the certainty of mortality and died relatively peacefully while serving out a life-sentence term in California. I couldn’t have been happier with the news.

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  • I love Iowa to the max, but I’m worried about it
        I’m a Midwestern boy/man-child and proud of it. The residents of the east and west coasts are subject to every new thing that comes down the pike, but not us in the tried-and-true Midwest.
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  • Apparently political correctness gets a bye on Halloween
        How in the name of everything that is unholy has Halloween/American style survived this long? I just don’t get it. Somebody walk me through it … please.
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  • Enough already: Time for French-fry lovers to rise up

        I write today in defense of one of my oldest and dearest “friends” that has been the subject of so much bad publicity of late it’s a wonder anyone will have anything to do with them.

    I firmly believe this continuing negativity should be confronted head on, but those who are willing to stand up and be an advocate for this much maligned entity are few and far between. As a proud supporter of the popular product, I understand there are certain risks involved but feel – at least for my money – that the pros definitely outweigh the cons.

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  • I guess there’s just a ‘meanness’ in this world

     I’ll admit it, as I write this column I’m so angry I can’t see straight.

    While I, along with the rest of America and the world, try to make any rational sense out of what happened in Las Vegas Sunday night, I can’t help but wonder what we have become and where we’re headed. To be honest, I don’t think anyone knows what the future will bring.

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  • Quit blaming the media and do your homework

        Had a lengthy discussion with a friend I like and respect despite our political differences the other day and I was a bit taken aback by some of his comments.

    He is a man who is extremely involved politically and makes it a point to participate in meetings and other gatherings in order to express his opinion. Is he on the conservative side of the fence? That’s an understatement.

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  • Unfortunately, time doesn’t heal every wound
     I’m not a morning person. Never have been. I’m not one to linger in bed, but my favorite moment of the day is not when the alarm goes off. Once I’m up and m
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  • Learned to accept a lot of things ... but not hummus
         Despite my growth and “maturity’ (okay, gimme a break) I still despise the sight, texture and taste of lima beans, I’d probably starve to death if I had to eat coconut to survive, and don’t even bring up the subject of hummus. The mere thought of that pureed tree bark is enough to make me gag.
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  • July is packed with fun

    With apologies to Rodgers and Hammerstein:


    “Our county fair is a great

    county fair, don’t miss

    it don’t even be late.”


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  • Each Memorial Day I return to Pearl Harbor

        We lived at the entrance to Pearl Harbor – the most famous shipyard in the world – not more than 60 yards from the ocean. My dad, LCDR George Fromm, had been transferred to Barbers Point Naval Air Station on the island of Oahu in the new state of Hawaii. It was truly paradise and a magical three years in my life.

    The housing provided to military personnel stationed on Oahu in 1963 was perfect. Since the weather in Hawaii is pretty-much ideal every single day – not too hot and not too cold – no air-conditioning was required and the need for additional heat was a rare event indeed. Our ranch-style home was bright, airy and cheerful.

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  • If you had to pick final meal, what would it be?
        I'll be the first to admit – actually my wife, Sarah, would probably be the first – my mind often doesn’t work like most. While I’m fairly “normal” most of the time, there are definitely instances when I drift off into “Rickiland” and ponder things that have absolutely no significance to man and womankind at all, or are downright weird.
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