dispatches from TJICistan

http://www.the-spearhead.com/2009/09/29/…

The entire secret of life, of power, of everything, was taught to me when I was a teenager, by a … farmer…

The farmer’s name was “Griff” … I was a “townie” (population 300) and made good money for a teenager as a “hired hand”. One day when I showed up for work he said “We’re going to pick up a new truck.” We got in his car and the entire 40 minute ride to the dealer passed without either of us saying a word: one of those easy comfortable silences that men often use to communicate more than words ever can. We picked up a new 4-wheel drive 3/4 ton pickup and headed back to the farm. When we got back, he pointed to a large gravel pile by the barn and told me to fill the truck bed with gravel and go fill in a hole in the entrance to one of his fields.

I said “But that gravel will ruin the paint on the bed of this brand new truck.” He looked at me silently for about a minute, his expression eloquently saying that I was the worst idiot he’d ever been burdened with having to tolerate in his life. Without saying another word he picked up the shovel and, with a swing that would be the envy of any major league baseball hitter, he swung it around and smacked the side of the truck sending paint chips flying in every direction and leaving a huge dent. He looked at me again with that same “I can’t believe you are such an idiot” look and said: “City boy this is a FARM truck. I didn’t buy it to look pretty, I bought it to DO WORK, same reason I’m payin’ you. Now it ain’t new no more, so shut up and shovel the !@#$-in’ gravel.” Then he turned around and walked off, leaving me to feel foolish and gain wisdom.

No one eats unless someone shuts up and shovels the !@#$-in’ gravel.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 13th, 2009 at 7:55 pm and is filed under General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.