As a
young girl I spent most of my time at my maternal grandparent's
house. All my positive memories have the backdrop of the family farm.
I still remember the day that PawPaw bought it. It was beyond
exciting. For years I had sat in the big tree in MawMaw and PawPaw's
front yard overlooking the no longer maintained piece of land. To my
little girl self it seemed like a desert, with its rolling hills of
dirt. You can imagine my excitement when PawPaw came into the house
one evening announcing that the farm had been put up for auction.
I have a
vivid memory of tagging along with PawPaw on the day of the auction.
He pulled out on the land in his truck, popped open the tail gate for
me to sit on, and strategically placed his folding chair that he
always carried in the back of his truck with him, right in front of
the auctioneer. In his relaxed country PawPaw kind of way, he filled
his pipe with Prince Albert tobacco and lit it up. He spent the next
how ever long it was, chewing on his pipe and lifting his trucker cap
to scratch his head. After a few grunts and head nods the farm was
ours.
Being
that the 100 acres had sat untouched for God knows how long, the
first major task was getting rid of all the groundhogs. Those little
critters had taken over. Being the smart old man that he was, Pawpaw
opened the farm to anyone interested in making a little extra cash.
He offered $50 for every groundhog that was killed and brought to
his door step. My uncles wasted no time and immediately got to ground
hog hunting.
However,
there was one specific groundhog that no one could manage to shoot.
He was a sneaky one! Deciding that he would not be outsmarted by a
groundhog my Pawpaw called my uncle Travis to bring the backhoe over
to dig him out. I, having overheard the conversation, asked to tag
along on this crazy little adventure.
I sat in
the back of the truck watching pawpaw directing my uncle Travis on
the backhoe and my uncle David, who had brought his shot gun over. We
had a shooter, a digger, and a director. "Dig right over there
Trav. Yep right there. Oh there that damn thing is. Shoot it David.,
shoot that damn thing. You were too slow, it got away. Dig over there
Trav.,right there. I said right there.”
Eventually
the ground hog was shot, the hole covered over, and grass planted. It
took several years to get the farm up and running. There was a barn
to rebuild, brush to clear out, a fence to be put up, and livestock to be bought. I watched
it all from the tail gate of PawPaw's truck. On cool fall evenings
when I sit on my front porch I am reminded of the man who's blood
runs through my veins. He was the first person that I felt truly
believed in me and was proud of me, no matter what I did or did not
do. What would he think of me now? His first grand-baby is 30 years
old, sitting on her front porch, in her bare feet, typing out a story
of him, while her barefooted 6 year old daughter eats an apple beside
her. Knowing my Pawpaw,I am sure he would be proud. Yes, there once
lived a man that made me feel as if I hung the moon.
