Growing Up Buske

Name: Growing Up Buske
Brand: Mark Buske
SKU: 2609872

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2673611Growing Up Buskehttps://www.gandhi.com.mx/growing-up-buske-9781087978864/phttps://gandhi.vtexassets.com/arquivos/ids/3105004/91800621-4fc3-42ec-90d8-296ca1fff9db.jpg?v=6383848867872300003939MXNMark BuskeInStock/Ebooks/At the age of seventy, my dad sat down at his desk with a yellow pad ofpaper and began writing stories--stories of growing up on a farm andattending a one-room schoolhouse (Dad graduated top in his class. The onlyother eighth grader came in second!) He wrote of his life in the army, ofmeeting and marrying my mom, and raising a family on a farm of his own.He spent the next eleven years adding to his book of stories, sharing themwith anyone who would listen.It was New Years Day, 2014, when my folks, Sis, and I had our final lunchtogether (We grew up calling the noon meal dinner and the evening mealsupper. Lunch was served when you had family over on Saturday night,around 9:00 PM, but I digress.) Dad passed away suddenly later that day,and the job of telling stories passed to me. Initially, writing these storiesdown was a way to grieve him.The project grew and the stories kept coming, especially on evenings Momand I spent at her new home "in town". Life on the farm without Dad wasntthe same, and, anyway, shed grown tired of mowing the grass. Then, onNew Years Day, just six years after Dad, Sis and I lost Mom. Our folks haddone everything together for sixty years; I guess we shouldnt have beensurprised.In these pages youll find stories that celebrate our family, memories of whatseem like more innocent years, and tales of growing up in rural Illinois.They are a collection, some from those yellow pad pages of Dads, somefrom the quiet evenings reminiscing with Mom, most from the memoriesstill clear in my mind....2609872Growing Up Buske3939https://www.gandhi.com.mx/growing-up-buske-9781087978864/phttps://gandhi.vtexassets.com/arquivos/ids/3105004/91800621-4fc3-42ec-90d8-296ca1fff9db.jpg?v=638384886787230000InStockMXN99999DIEbook20219781087978864_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_At the age of seventy, my dad sat down at his desk with a yellow pad ofpaper and began writing stories--stories of growing up on a farm andattending a one-room schoolhouse (Dad graduated top in his class. The onlyother eighth grader came in second!) He wrote of his life in the army, ofmeeting and marrying my mom, and raising a family on a farm of his own.He spent the next eleven years adding to his book of stories, sharing themwith anyone who would listen.It was New Years Day, 2014, when my folks, Sis, and I had our final lunchtogether (We grew up calling the noon meal dinner and the evening mealsupper. Lunch was served when you had family over on Saturday night,around 9:00 PM, but I digress.) Dad passed away suddenly later that day,and the job of telling stories passed to me. Initially, writing these storiesdown was a way to grieve him.The project grew and the stories kept coming, especially on evenings Momand I spent at her new home in town. Life on the farm without Dad wasntthe same, and, anyway, shed grown tired of mowing the grass. Then, onNew Years Day, just six years after Dad, Sis and I lost Mom. Our folks haddone everything together for sixty years; I guess we shouldnt have beensurprised.In these pages youll find stories that celebrate our family, memories of whatseem like more innocent years, and tales of growing up in rural Illinois.They are a collection, some from those yellow pad pages of Dads, somefrom the quiet evenings reminiscing with Mom, most from the memoriesstill clear in my mind.(*_*)9781087978864_At the age of seventy, my dad sat down at his desk with a yellow pad ofpaper and began writing stories--stories of growing up on a farm andattending a one-room schoolhouse (Dad graduated top in his class. The onlyother eighth grader came in second!) He wrote of his life in the army, ofmeeting and marrying my mom, and raising a family on a farm of his own.He spent the next eleven years adding to his book of stories, sharing themwith anyone who would listen.It was New Years Day, 2014, when my folks, Sis, and I had our final lunchtogether (We grew up calling the noon meal dinner and the evening mealsupper. Lunch was served when you had family over on Saturday night,around 9:00 PM, but I digress.) Dad passed away suddenly later that day,and the job of telling stories passed to me. Initially, writing these storiesdown was a way to grieve him.The project grew and the stories kept coming, especially on evenings Momand I spent at her new home "in town". Life on the farm without Dad wasntthe same, and, anyway, shed grown tired of mowing the grass. Then, onNew Years Day, just six years after Dad, Sis and I lost Mom. Our folks haddone everything together for sixty years; I guess we shouldnt have beensurprised.In these pages youll find stories that celebrate our family, memories of whatseem like more innocent years, and tales of growing up in rural Illinois.They are a collection, some from those yellow pad pages of Dads, somefrom the quiet evenings reminiscing with Mom, most from the memoriesstill clear in my mind....9781087978864_Mark Buskelibro_electonico_84d0ac63-9114-35df-9e26-c274927bb768_9781087978864;9781087978864_9781087978864Mark BuskeInglésMéxicohttps://getbook.kobo.com/koboid-prod-public/ingram30-epub-0f021899-9ad6-4742-a817-c67b2da1b11f.epub2021-09-15T00:00:00+00:00Mark Buske