THE JOY OF WORK

In a quite moment of reflection, years ago, I asked my Uncle Grant (Uncle John’s youngest brother).
“What’s your fondest memory of growing-up on the farm?”
“My father teaching me how to plow. He could plow the straightest and deepest furrows in the county. You have no idea how hard it is to hold the horse in line and keep the plow from bouncing or zagging. He taught me how. I’ve always been proud of that.”

Growing up on that farm Uncle Grant was taught many skills by HIS father. How to milk, plant, harvest, butcher, fence, ride, etc. and the personal integrity that comes from daily hard work.

And —

The satisfaction of a job done right. When the plowing was done. It was there for all the neighbors to see: the straight deep furrows cut close to the banks of the field.

My first memories of that farm are in 1943-5 when I was four to six years old— during the War when there was rationing, shortages, fear, and just making do. There was no complaining.  Today, it is amazing to me how much happiness bubbled on that farm from the joy of hard work.

From my tub to yours,

Carl