Harmon's Histories

“They say the first step is admitting you have a problem. So today, right here in this column, I admit it. I am a junkie, an addict. I need help.”

I’m sharing the personal stories – not just my professional resume - with my daughter and her daughter...and, to a lesser degree, with you, in hopes it will spur all of you to your keyboards and document your lives.

I prefer the good old days. No Internet. Quieter and slower times. Just waiting for my latest Billboard Magazine in the mail, to find out who and what topped the chart this week, and hoping the corners of the magazine weren’t too damaged in the postal process.

Editor W.J. McCormick “made a trip up the Bitter Root Valley and spent nine days very pleasantly among the thrifty agriculturalists of that locality which embraces within its borders the most substantial and prosperous farmers in the territory.”

My good friend Jack Puckett turned 98 years old last month. He is such a great storyteller.

In the summer of 1924, Missoula experienced a rash of petty robberies and burglaries, so many that police were “of the opinion that there was a gang working here, different robberies not being the work of one man.

The wedding was marvelous; the bride and groom were so happy – absolutely gleeful! I survived without CPR, despite no air-conditioning.