Saturday, December 10, 2005
farm talk
The best thing about the farm was Grandma. She always had a pile of Jolly Ranchers around the house somewhere or chocolate setting in the cold-room out back. She also had a heart bigger than the world and a love of children that she passed on to us. Never a shortage of creamed-(beef/beans/whatever) at the dinner table either. Of all the places we went on the farm; the pump-house, the quanset hut, the hay-loft ... the one place we did not dare intrude was the basement. I'm not even sure if it is stone, cement or block. For all I know, Al Capone's booty is laying about in plain site down there. It's a forbidden zone that was not denied us, but we never challenged the unspoken warning. Nobody (at least none of my cousins would admit to it) went there. Like now, the fact that some of my uncles are getting on in years and are considering selling off their shares. It's something that pulls at me because I feel that I must pull that silver cord back to me and keep at least the thinest fiber available for my scion. If they so choose, they will have the chance to recliam their heritage. I've talked briefly to my father about this and it looks like I'll need to start saving a considerable lump of liquid assets if I am to start buying 'shares' for the future of the family.
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