Break Dancin'.

[jimsong]

I spent my teenage years in NW Oklahoma, on a dairy farm. We went through truck load after truck load of hay every year. One winter we were running short of hay, and my Dad bought an entire barn full of hay, about a half mile down the road.
It was a pole barn, with no floor, and for those who may not know, a few inches of the bottom tier,stacked on the ground, are usually rotted. So we haulled the entire barn full of hay, leaving the bottom tier, which we would feed first, so as not to contaminate the rest of the hay.
My Dad had a terrific sense of humor, but his humor seldom bled into working. Working was serious business to him.
Well We started on that bottom tier, I was on the bed of the truck, stacking, while he bucked the bale up to me.
I suddenly was startled by a sound I had never heard before. I whipped around, and there was Dad- dancing! I mean he was inventing moves never before seen on Earth! And the sounds he was making were absolutely unearthly! I didn't know whether to go to him, stand there or run! (I ended up just standing there)
Then he started clawing at his belt, trying to get his jeans off. After, what seemed a life time, but it was probably less than five seconds, he succeeded in getting his jeans down to his knees, and a hug rat ran out of the leg of his homemade boxers.
I started laughing so hard , that I had to sit down on a bale. I looked up. expecting to get fist in the mouth, but he had redressed, and was rolling around on the hay, laughing.
He ordered me to never tell a soul. And until now I haven't. I don't think he would mind now.
He did have a good sense of humor, and he has been gone for twenty seven years now.
You would think after twenty seven years, I would quit missing him.

 

[lpm]

jimsong,

Thanks for sharing that story. I think that its through our memories of those who have gone before us, that we truly learn who we have become as individuals. Its been a lot fewer years since my old man went on to visit with the "Spirit in the Sky." But, I see things that remind me daily of the man he was. Those memories only lead me to miss him even more.

For me, I think the only way I would stop missing him would be if I were to stop remembering. And, its those memories that have led me to who I am today. So ya can bet dollars ta donuts I ain't leaving those memories behind. That is until I reach the point that the senility gets to my thinking organ.

-- Paul

 

[Kayak Jack]

Dad always told me that it was standard policy to tie off your cuffs with binder twine when working with corn shocks or hay that has been on the ground a while. He got to see my Granddad do a similar dance. Those old, German farmers had no sense of humor for that stuff at all.

You can always tell an old, German farmer - but you can never tell him much.

 

[redfisher]

You would think after twenty seven years, I would quit missing him.

Aint gonna happen. My Pawpaw been gone 20 years and everytime I hear a screen door slam my heart jumps a little.

Thanks for sharing that.

 

[bearridge]

Friend Jim,

Miz Bear 'n me jest seen the Okie panhandle. We come thru rite after the Red Cross disaster trucks left. A hoodoochie had hit 'n washed out the railroad, tore up towns 'n jest made a big mess. Sign on the Quik Stop door sez "one bag of ice per customer". After that we didnt see many folks, til we come close ta Colorado. We come back thru the New Mexican mountains 'n on ta Amarillo.

That wuz a fine tale bout yer Dad. He made hiz own drawers? I recall pitchin' bales of hay in the summer. I dont have no good memories of it. We did make some good slingshots outta the bailin' twine 'n some inner tube. I reckon a giant woulda gone down hard.....if we had any giants. Good thing fer giants that they stayed away frum us. :wink:

Our cows wuz on the loose (inside barbed wire). I dont have no good memories of cows either. They never busted out less it wuz 104 in the shade 'er sleetin' purty good. That kept me frum sheddin' no tears when they had ta swallow them big pills 'er lose their nuts. Hard not ta feel bad fer anythin' on the hot end of a brandin' iron.

regards
bearridge

Jake Spoon: A man that will talk to a pig ain't no better than a farmer.
Gus McCrae: I expected you to own a bank or at least a whorehouse by now Jake. It seems life has been a disappointment to both of us.
Jake Spoon: That might be so, but by God, I ain't never said a word to a pig.

 

[jimsong]

Bearridge,
There wasn't a lot to look at in the panhandle was there. :lol: I don't blame you for taking a different route back, but the Texas panhandle isn't a whole lot more scenic, except for the canyon north of Amarillo.
If there was any money in farming, I would still be doing it. I liked working in the hay, except for baling. It seemed like the wind was always at my back, no matter what direction I was going, thus covering me with dust and chaff.
We had beef stock as well, and I liked working the cattle too. The cutting, vaccinating, or branding didn't bother me, it was the dehorning that got to me. scooping chunks out of the calves skull.
Naw, he didn't make his boxers, my mother did, before they married my grand mother made them for him out of flour sacks. after my mother, his second wife made them for him, but his third wife didn't sew, so he bought his first pair of civilian of skivvies in his late fourties.

 

[Kayak Jack]

Never had skivvies made of flour sacks, but had a few shirts made of feed sacks as a kid.