Baldy
I don't remember much about the days when my grandparents' farm was thriving but I've heard the stories. It was always fun to sit around the kitchen table where my grandparents and aunt lived. We'd have a cup of coffee made in my aunt's simple coffee pot that only made 6 cups and enjoy whatever delight my grandmother was baking while we listened to the stories about "back then." "Tell us another one," we'd say. We never could get enough of tho se stories. One particular story was told over and over. It had to do with one mean chicken named Baldy. This bird earned the nickname because of the many fights he'd partake in around the barnyard. Baldy ruled the roost if you know what I mean-winning every battle he chose-leaving him "hairless" in the process. One battle he won every time the opportunity arose was with my oldest brother who was the first grandchild and constantly at the farm. Something tells me he was my grandfat...