To the editor,

It was 1947 when my father retired from the military and pursued one of his passions -- farming. I was born three years later. Of course, I do not remember those years; however, farming was instilled in us. The first farm that I lived on was located in rural Ellsworth.

When I was 3 years old, my father went back into the military and we moved to Washington State. No matter where we lived, we were able to return to Wisconsin for a short vacation to see my grandparents and visit relatives, usually in the summer and a few winter visits as well. I looked forward to helping my Grandma gather eggs and feeding sheep that we abandoned by their mothers. Time spent with my Grandpa was so much fun -- helping with the calves and the ponies. I rode horseback with my brother and cousin, three on the horse, and I fell off, so much for being in the back. Winter visits to the farm meant sleigh riding down the hills with the cousins; drinking cocoa, and feasting on those yummy Christmas cookies baked by my Grandma.

At night, I slept upstairs and claimed the bedroom with the biggest windows because I would see the stars shining so brightly through that tall window. Falling asleep on the old-fashioned bed that creaked each time I moved, gazing at the stars, listening to the crickets on a dark night and thinking about my day left me with a feeling of serenity and gratitude. Although we no longer lived on a farm, the times we spent on our vacations in Wisconsin held many memorable times for me. It was a feeling of being "home."

Monica Foley

Edina, Minn.