I knew that if I didn’t manage to stay away from the family farm this day would finally come, but I had kind of put it out of my mind. Today it hit me.
You would have to understand a little bit about the situation to understand why. I grew up on a family farm back when being a neighbor actually meant something. Some of my earliest memories are of when I finally became old enough to bail hay with him and his wife. Everybody had livestock back then So everybody’s kids had to follow the bailers around. His wife passed away a few years ago and has been deeply missed by those who remember her.
He was always quiet. His wife tended to be the one who did most of the talking, yet he could talk up a storm when she wasn’t around. I must admit I had heard people say he tried to make up for lost time when she wasn’t around, but only those who really knew them would say such things and they would be said with affection.
He had a dry, and kind of sly, quiet sense of humor. It worked well with his voice. Not a lot of people caught onto it at first, but it was quite entertaining for those who were aware of it.
We had a running joke for many years. Today would have been the day it would have been told. It wasn’t a joke most outsiders would get, but perhaps those who are farmers would understand. You see, the grain bin they had to hold soybeans simply wasn’t big enough to hold the crop most years. Every year that I happened to be home to help with harvest I would always get stuck with the job of hauling in. (Pretty much the worst job at harvest time. Hooking and unhooking wagons, in and out of the tractor 100-150 times per day.) Invariably, about the time the bin would be full, he could come over to chat.
“We got a little problem” I would say.
“Oh?”
“It’s not all going to fit in the bin.”
“Well jump up and down on it, that should help.”
“I did that already.”
“Oh.”
“I’m about to take this one down and bring back another wagon. Do you think you can climb up there and add another ring to the bin before I get back?”
“I’ll get right on that.”
Of course, if you don’t know what a “ring” is in a grain bin, or the fact they have to be added from the bottom, not the top, it’s probably not that funny to you. Probably means even less if you don’t know the man was in his 70s and shouldn’t have been climbing ladders at all.
Today, I was helping put the last wagon of soybeans in the bin. Today was the day we would have had our once per year joke. Today was the day I realized I missed him.
