Column Six

W ith his ears flying, Sandy ran free, frolicking through the fields with the children. A Retriever-Setter mix, he was a special dog. A sweet guy, he would gently place his nose on one’s knee and look beseechingly for a bit of petting.

Tangy brush with celebrity lingers on palate M y love of pickles began when I was quite small— especially of the sweet pickles that have baby onions and bits of cauliflower in the jar. We grew many vegetables in the garden on our farm.

T here are times when we look back at our own family's story and draw a breath as we realize that they had a small but important place in the history of our country. In my dad's large Ansley family there were four boys and six girls.

BY JOHN PICCOLO and SAMUEL PICCOLO Special to the Voice T he son: On a good many days with my father, he couldn’t have looked forward to playing golf with me. The fault was all mine.

A gentleman goes on a ride for a cause In a car you’re always in a compartment…you’re a passive observer, and it is all moving by you, boringly, in a frame.

It was a trip like any other, until... R ank amateurs, our broken-down boots, worn high-water pants, sagging plaid shirts, jackets with assorted buttons and old sun hats on our grey heads, completed our "old fogey fishermen" look.

I don’t camp well. I don’t think I would even glamp well. Which is why it is so surprising that I accept our friend Tom’s invitation to go camping.

A “city kid's” recollections BY DEBBIE (SMEED) MACLEOD Special to the Voice I was born in October 1954, in the bustling little city of St. Catharines. When I was seven, our family moved to the slightly smaller town of Thorold.

T all, dark, and handsome; dashing, sophisticated, looking like Desi Arnaz, he was in the orientation line of professors at a small college in Palos Heights, near Chicago.

N othing says I love you like your sweetie giving you a fitness tracker as a Valentine’s Day present.