01/21/2022 1 By BuddyCushman

I’m sitting in a rather uncomfortable straight-back chair in what’s called “the little house” in Marsing, Idaho, my son Spenser’s personal domain. Tight by the Snake River, which I could see yesterday, through falling snow.

Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell’s “Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing” has floated on into my mind.

Blessed morning.