A week ago the sky had clouded over and it had rained hard throughout one entire night. Dad had stopped picking corn for a couple of days to let the cornfield dry out. When he started picking corn again, instead of warm and sunny as it had been only a week ago, the weather had turned cold and sunny. Very cold. So cold it was enough to make a person glad her mother had insisted she put on a stocking cap and mittens. And a winter coat. And winter boots. Even though the ground was bare and there was no snow anywhere.

I stood back and looked at the door of the round, white, wooden granary. The granary was almost full of soybeans, but I knew Dad had put plywood in front of the door so that when the door was open, the soybeans wouldn't spill out. The question was—to get the soybeans, could I climb up on the staves and reach over the plywood—or would I have to climb over the plywood and go into the granary? But if I went into the granary, an even bigger question was—could I get out again?

Only one piece of clothing remained in the closet. I lifted the hanger off the bar and struggled to hold up the weight of the heavy coat. The red wool coat had been hanging in the closet in the small hallway between the kitchen and the bathroom for as long as I could remember. Mom and Dad's bedroom—which my mother said used to be the living room before they built onto the house—was on the opposite side of the hallway.

I read an amazing book recently called the Human Fabric. It resonated so strongly with me that I just had to find and speak to the author himself, Bijoy Goswami.

Though it is a rare priviledge to speak to an author that has a dramatic effect upon your life, it is worth noting the Bijoy is more than just an author. He's also musician, a playwrite, a public speaker, an Oxford/Stanford Scholor, a tireless networker and entrepreneur amongst many other things...

Here's to days gone by when we didn't worry about things like eating too much whipped cream -- but simply enjoyed it!