When I was a girl, my dad always tried to teach me about cars.  He pointed to what this thing was and he explained how it worked.   And I remember none of what he tried to teach me.  I remember looking at his tan, scarred hands, that grime under the nails that would never come out.  I can close my eyes and smell the mix of diesel fuel and cigarette smoke. That was the smell of my dad after a long honest day's work in the shop.  The literal blue collar with his name stitched across his chest.

he turkey snuggled right in, and as we began to pet her, she closed her eyes and began to make a purring sound! We stroked the soft feathers and Sun bobbed her head, eyes still closed in a perfect state of relaxation.

One thing I miss about the Midwest is Fall.  Driving along roads full of...