Thanks Dad

I grew up on a small farm near Millville, one of eight children. When we finished our chores at home, the boys in the family would often work for neighboring farmers in order to make some spending money for the Mooreland Fair.

One time Oakley Paul hired me to hook the corn and jimpson weeds out of his soybean field. It was hot, hard work. When I rode my bike home for lunch, I told my Dad I wasn’t going back. He informed me that I had agreed to clean the field, and that I was going to return and finish the job. I was pretty mad at him then. I think I’ll thank him the next time I see him.