The rest of the story...
I first fell in love with farm life and the machinery found there when I was a boy of 15. Here's how it happened...
I was born and raised in the city. East Cleveland, Ohio, to be specific. My Dad would take me fishing nearly every Sunday morning at a number of lakes and streams around NE Ohio. When we fished from a boat, he would fish, I would play with the bait. When we fished from shore, he would fish and I would play with the bait. As I got older, I honed my fishing skills by finding other things to play with...like salamanders, frogs, snakes.
During summer vacations, my best buddy Rich Vladic and I would go exploring the parks around the area. Our definition of wilderness included railroad tracks and vacant lots. We would put our best country skills to the test by throwing firecrackers into a creek and seeing how many dead fish would float up...or catching frogs and playing with them...sometimes having the trains flatten pennies for our entertainment...important things like that.
Then came 1963...the year that my Mom decided that she and my five siblings could probably get through summer vacation just fine without me. My Dad had died the year before and I was still just a bit onry. I didn't know what they'd do without me (the "man of the house") being there, but they were willing to risk it. So...with a touching round of applause behind me, I boarded a bus in East Cleveland, Ohio bound for my Aunt Ruth and Uncle Chris's farm in Rodney, Arkansas. Now...I did have a choice in this matter...my Mom had explained that what was behind door #2 was a three month stay at the local detention home for the summer. Gee...no thanks, Mom...they're too smart there! I'll take door #1.
My plans were simple...relax, eat well and pretty much do as I wanted for the summer. I was certain that farmers were basically just dumb, easy going folks whom I would have an easy time manipulating. After all, they had no clue what went on in the real world of the city! With my sophisticated knowledge, they were sitting ducks. Any 15 year old boy, after all, knows all there is to know. They would be putty in my hands. Poor souls!
My Aunt Ruth was a sturdy, cherubed faced woman with a wonderful laugh and a reputation throughout the family for her superb cooking. My appetite and her skills...well...it was a perfect match!
My Uncle Chris...well...he was the dumb farmer part. Poor guy!
I stepped off the Greyhound bus about a day and a half later in Mountain Home, Arkansas. I had about fifteen bucks in my pocket...crazy money for pop that I had scratched together from mowing lawns and doing other chores...um, well, ok...maybe I did steal a little of it...ok...a lot of it...from my sister's banks. But hey, they were the ones cheering me on at the bus station!
Anyway, there I was in Arkansas...and there they were, my Aunt and Uncle...let the eating and relaxing begin! Ahhhh, the good life!
I first fell in love with farm life and the machinery found there when I was a boy of 15. Here's how it happened...
I was born and raised in the city. East Cleveland, Ohio, to be specific. My Dad would take me fishing nearly every Sunday morning at a number of lakes and streams around NE Ohio. When we fished from a boat, he would fish, I would play with the bait. When we fished from shore, he would fish and I would play with the bait. As I got older, I honed my fishing skills by finding other things to play with...like salamanders, frogs, snakes.
During summer vacations, my best buddy Rich Vladic and I would go exploring the parks around the area. Our definition of wilderness included railroad tracks and vacant lots. We would put our best country skills to the test by throwing firecrackers into a creek and seeing how many dead fish would float up...or catching frogs and playing with them...sometimes having the trains flatten pennies for our entertainment...important things like that.
Then came 1963...the year that my Mom decided that she and my five siblings could probably get through summer vacation just fine without me. My Dad had died the year before and I was still just a bit onry. I didn't know what they'd do without me (the "man of the house") being there, but they were willing to risk it. So...with a touching round of applause behind me, I boarded a bus in East Cleveland, Ohio bound for my Aunt Ruth and Uncle Chris's farm in Rodney, Arkansas. Now...I did have a choice in this matter...my Mom had explained that what was behind door #2 was a three month stay at the local detention home for the summer. Gee...no thanks, Mom...they're too smart there! I'll take door #1.
My plans were simple...relax, eat well and pretty much do as I wanted for the summer. I was certain that farmers were basically just dumb, easy going folks whom I would have an easy time manipulating. After all, they had no clue what went on in the real world of the city! With my sophisticated knowledge, they were sitting ducks. Any 15 year old boy, after all, knows all there is to know. They would be putty in my hands. Poor souls!
My Aunt Ruth was a sturdy, cherubed faced woman with a wonderful laugh and a reputation throughout the family for her superb cooking. My appetite and her skills...well...it was a perfect match!
My Uncle Chris...well...he was the dumb farmer part. Poor guy!
I stepped off the Greyhound bus about a day and a half later in Mountain Home, Arkansas. I had about fifteen bucks in my pocket...crazy money for pop that I had scratched together from mowing lawns and doing other chores...um, well, ok...maybe I did steal a little of it...ok...a lot of it...from my sister's banks. But hey, they were the ones cheering me on at the bus station!
Anyway, there I was in Arkansas...and there they were, my Aunt and Uncle...let the eating and relaxing begin! Ahhhh, the good life!
My uncle looks at my footwear and says "Those'll never do...not snakeproof!". But, I said, they're new tennis shoes! By this time he was already marching for the shoe store in town. But, I said... And he kept walking. I was certain the guy was deaf. He says "How much money ya got?". Well, I said, I have about $15 for.... "That should do it", he said. But, I said... "Pay the man", he said.
Sigh...My uncle said about 200 words to me that summer...and he had already used up 17 of them...along with the $15 that I had worked so hard for. My aunt, on the other hand, talked a blue streak, and always with a laugh. All this time she was going on asking me about my brothers...who cares?...my sisters...who cares?...my school...who cares...ugh!
So we load up three across in their mid-50's Dodge pickup. It had what I came to know as "2-50 air conditioning"...two windows down, 50 miles per hour. It was about a million degrees out that day. I recall that the trip was about an hour or two. As the crow flies, it's about 17 miles...he flies because the crow is not insane enough to take the roads my uncle took! Sometimes the edge of the earth was on the left, other times on the right. You just had to guess correctly to live.
Eventually, we arrive in Rodney, Arkansas (Population 20, give er take)...
Sigh...My uncle said about 200 words to me that summer...and he had already used up 17 of them...along with the $15 that I had worked so hard for. My aunt, on the other hand, talked a blue streak, and always with a laugh. All this time she was going on asking me about my brothers...who cares?...my sisters...who cares?...my school...who cares...ugh!
So we load up three across in their mid-50's Dodge pickup. It had what I came to know as "2-50 air conditioning"...two windows down, 50 miles per hour. It was about a million degrees out that day. I recall that the trip was about an hour or two. As the crow flies, it's about 17 miles...he flies because the crow is not insane enough to take the roads my uncle took! Sometimes the edge of the earth was on the left, other times on the right. You just had to guess correctly to live.
Eventually, we arrive in Rodney, Arkansas (Population 20, give er take)...
OK...a little country, but, we can do this.
And my room is where? Ahhh...that would be the one with the billion daddy long legs looking at me from the ceiling? Hmmmm.
And the bathroom? Ahhh...it's out back?? Oh, yes, I can smell it now! Hmmmm.
What's King growling at? Ahhh...there's a copperhead out in the yard. Hmmmm.
My plan has changed. Now I'm thinking...sit and sleep in the chair in the living room, don't eat anything for three months so I don't have to use the....uhhhh..."bathroom" til I get home, and never, ever, blindly snub door #2 AGAIN!
And my room is where? Ahhh...that would be the one with the billion daddy long legs looking at me from the ceiling? Hmmmm.
And the bathroom? Ahhh...it's out back?? Oh, yes, I can smell it now! Hmmmm.
What's King growling at? Ahhh...there's a copperhead out in the yard. Hmmmm.
My plan has changed. Now I'm thinking...sit and sleep in the chair in the living room, don't eat anything for three months so I don't have to use the....uhhhh..."bathroom" til I get home, and never, ever, blindly snub door #2 AGAIN!