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I was returning from East Tennessee a while back by way of Interstate 40. In reasonably heavy traffic, somewhere on the east side of Crossville, I grew tired of this dude who had been dogging my back bumper for over a mile.

In the early days it was referred to as that “electronic box” that sat in the corner of the living room. I can’t remember the first time I watched television. I do remember it being in black and white. I also remember the time we visited a neighbor’s house on a Sunday evening to get our first look at television in Living Color. That was quite a treat.

In last week’s column I wrote of my love for mules, my acquaintance with the Reese Bros. (world famous mule traders), of Grand Canyon Mule Rides, and how I introduced two of our granddaughters to mule riding. As I left a Reese Bros. mule sale, both girls were pleading with me to buy them a mule.

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Years ago, I lived in Hawaii growing up and at night, it could get quite humid as you were trying to go to sleep. We were not far from the north shore and you’d think a sweet cool breeze from the Pacific Ocean would make everything nice and easy, but that was not the case.

Seems I have always been fascinated with mules. My fascination goes all the way back to my boyhood days and the Brim Hollow. My grandfather, Will Herod Brim, owned two working mules, Kate and Liz. (That’s not “Liz” as in Liz Taylor, but “Liz” as in Liza Minelli – long “i.”).