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Opinion
Papa Papa
If you’ve eaten today, thank a farmer
One of the last — and fondest — memories I have with my Papa is the day we drove out to the cow pasture near his home, one of many he worked with his brother, and watching as the cattle came running to the sound of his voice. He called them to the gate in a tone I’d never heard him use before, with such fluent confidence — it was like he and the cows shared their own personal language, one only they could understand.