(CRITICAL ERROR NUMBER four: Actually, I averted this error. I refer to the Holy Bible, where, in Ecclesiastes 3:1, we are reminded, “To everything there is a season.” Even though a trike bell on my bike is a bitter memory, I did NOT ditch the bell. My granddad is long since gone. I know he meant no ill. Besides, it is a strong reminder of a man who had such a positive impact on my life. In a couple of years, when my own grandson lights up the room with a smile seldom equaled—the kind a kid flashes when he first learns to peddle his tricycle--the bell will be in place, clamped right there on the bar by his thumb, so he can make all the “brrrrrng, brrrrng” sounds he wants. But, I’ve circled the date to make sure that when Ben’s thoughts turn to bicycles, the trike bell will long since have been put away.…)

      One absolutely last thought: Riney Jordan, a wonderful friend of more than forty years who also likes to splash around in the great sea of past experiences, has advised me to share my rabbit-raising story with the people who do advertising for MasterCard, kinda/sorta/maybe like:

      Rabbits: $5

      Hutches (or cages): $10

      Story About a Freshman Ag Project: PRICELESS!