Baby shoes.

For sale,

never worn.

-- Ernest Hemingway

In six words, can you tell a story? In six words, can you create a scene, describe a place, develop a character, and include a hint of action from the beginning to the end?

Hemingway did it. In six words he introduces a character, an infant, a baby. Then creates the scene: an advertisement or sign.

I imagine a hand-written placard at a garage sale, a hand-written note, a personal touch. You stop because the words catch your eye, like the first line of a great story or book. Then the narrative unfolds -- shoes never worn. But these weren't just any shoes, they were baby shoes. It changes the entire meaning of the story, leaves you startled, intrigued, curious.

You look up, trying to identify the owner of these shoes and author of the sign. You want to ask a forbidden question, a deeply personal inquiry. The who, what and why behind the sign. As they say, the plot thickens.

Like a great novel, the story piques your interest even more. You ask questions. What does that mean? A still-born baby? A tragic death?

Something happened and I want to know. But like a great writer, Hemingway doesn't tell us all. He allows our imagination to fill in the details. We complete the story.

We're not all Hemingways, and I certainly can't match his six-word memoir. But I can have fun and write some of my own. I might start with the familiar, about family and the farm.

Farm peaches,

harvest stories,

no money.

Started harvest young,

now old farmer.

No do overs

when picking peaches.

The next one sounds like advice to a new generation, those who might want to work in agriculture. Actually, it was told to me by my parents and repeated by my uncles when I came back to the farm.

Farming:

Land rich

but cash poor.

Six words can summarize our past year on the farm:

Cool weather.

Humans love,

not peaches.

Let me explain. Stone fruit love hot, dry weather and in 2010 we had a very cool and rainy spring, followed by one of the mildest summers as far as temperatures go. My city friends smiled most of the summer and our peaches remained grouchy and small. That's why I want to sweat during the summer.

How about a six-word memoir about places in our Valley? Places and food -- ingredients for a good short story because they combine a setting with the sensory experience of eating and the character of the location and its people.

Farmers market,

serious cooks,

first sales.

A favorite restaurant:

Parma,

homemade spirit.

Of course,

Italian.

A view from Sanger:

Chuckwagon,

chili cheese fries

lowriders,

suits.

And finally, a story others can taste.

Tacos on Ventura,

mucho jalapenos.

Water.

In the Valley, our many cultures and ethnic groups each have their stories to tell:

Hmong

become American

only with generations.

Japanese Americans

live with infamy.

Relocation.

Immigration reality,

try day without

Mexicans.

Perhaps we can summarize the past political year in six words. (This stems from a conversation I had with David Brooks, a political reporter and commentator with the New York Times. He concluded that President Obama thought his mandate was to lead a nation like the captain of an aircraft carrier. It would be a worthy challenge to try and turn such a huge vessel. But he mistakenly did not realize he needed to be a sailor and pay much more attention to the prevailing winds. He could not control nor direct those forces of nature.)

Obama

should have sailed

not steered.