I am sure that your mother was the same as mine. We lived on a farm and I had 40 acres to run and roam. One thing was a must. If Momma called, you best be making your way back to the house. Sometimes it was a call to eat or to go to town. But even as I type this, I can hear it in the dusty bins of my memories; Mom would sometimes call me by my full name. When I heard my full name spoken, it meant one thing, just as it probably meant to you: I was definitely in trouble. Funny thing, I wasn’t nearly excited about responding to that call. There was a distinct connection to my full name and a sore...