I love Daddy's stories! “I’m shopping for my wife,” said he. “For things she needs immediately. And while I’m here, I thought ...

Digging through Grandma Berg's Journals again . . . Grandma and Grampa Berg were married in a small Lutheran church in Blackfoot,...

It's harvest season. Time for a story about another harvest. In another era . . . How it was done under normal circumstances. ...

About a mile and a half from the Millicent, Alberta school was the swimming hole. A wooden structure, called a ‘headgate’ had been buil...

Berg Family about 1940. Front row far left: Leif Just off camera: Patsy Without Patsy, things could have ended much differently. M...

He didn’t go to work that day, He saw it. He went there. The great explosions. Fear. Dismay. He heard it. He was there. W...

Our Engineer - far right. Our son, an army engineer, was on his Combat Leadership course. It was gruelling.  Months of training.  An ...

Saggot jumped back, colliding heavily with the front door and knocking a gusty ‘whoof’ out of himself. The inspector merely stared at the...

Ready to work. If you look closely, you'll note the absence of glasses. And the presence of the band-aid.      Before I get Start...

When you’re canoeing with your spouse, ‘Cause you must ‘get out of the house!’, When falling in that cold, wet stream, The honest...

Still in a poetry mood. Another of my Dad's favourite stories.  And, who knows . . . maybe it happened . . .? They’d been ma...

The prayers for rain had ended and the prayers for sun commenced, Throughout the farming year, the pleas for either kept us tense. Th...

The Victim The question was innocent enough. “Daddy? How old were you when you started driving?” The answer was anything but. Inno...

Oh, sure. She's smiling now . . . There are about thirty miles of smooth, fast highway between Claresholm and Fort MacLeod, Albert...

Not-Quite-Sanctuary. The family ranch in Fort MacLeod. You can't hide things from your parents. Just ask me  . . . I had my...