inyati13
Well-known member
I read your story about your heeler in the blind. I thought about you as one of the few storywriters on CT. I have posted some stories. They all have an underlying truth. But I wonder why I get negative reactions. I thought I would be so bold as to present a story that might give an insight into where I have been. Where you have been makes you who you are.
I was born in 1950. My mom and dad are depression babies. They grew up with the constant fear of economic failure. We were extremely poor. When I announced my intentions of going to college, dad was opposed. We were in the tobacco patch one day, and I was talking about going to college. I probably said something like, "I'll be damed if I am going to do this for a living." He said I wanted to go to college because I was lazy. He said I won't give you one red penny, you are too dam dumb to go to college. It only strengthened my resolve. He cursed me to the point that I said to myself, "I hate that SOB and I will go to college if I have to live on nothing but peanut butter and crackers." I look back and realize he suffered from the anxiety of raising 5 children on a farm that produced a gross income of about $2500 a year. When I went to college in 1968, we did not have indoor plumbing in the farm house. We carried water from a well where you pumped it with a hand pump into buckets. The water bucket set on a stand in the corner of the kitchen and everyone used a common tin dipper to get a drink.
When I went off to college, I rarely came home. Other kids flocked home on week-ends, I stayed on campus thinking it was like staying at the Copacabana. In the summers, I worked on a pig farm that had 600 brood sows. There, I met Kenneth Harper. The first time I sat down to one of their bountiful meals, Kenneth ask me if I wanted another piece of ham. I was too proud to say yes. I said, "I don't know." He said, "If you don't know, I sure don't." When we went outside, he put his arm on my shoulder and he said, Bert, in this life if you want something, you better ask for it, because if you don't, you are going to miss a lot in life. Kenneth taught me lessons. Rules to live by. Kenneth had more complexity in his lessons than dad. He gave me more appreciation of the benefits of being competitive and taking care of your needs. Being selfish if you had to be. He was kind and good but he was pragmatic. He lectured about the nonsense of being bashful. When everyone else was teaching humility and humbleness, Kenneth was on a different crusade. Kenneth and I would work all day together. He would talk and tell me stories. He would put his children on other tasks while he and I worked and talked. - When I returned to Kentucky from being out west for 33 years, I found out Kenneth was still living but he suffered a bad stroke. I have not gone to visit him.
When I came home after getting my Master's Degree, I was in the barn during a summer rain talking to my Uncle. I was trying to not sound educated. He knew it right off. He told me something I shall always remember. He said never dumb yourself down to another man's level. He said it is the biggest insult you can inflict on any man. My Uncle had a 6th grade education but he wanted to be talked to straight up.
I was born in 1950. My mom and dad are depression babies. They grew up with the constant fear of economic failure. We were extremely poor. When I announced my intentions of going to college, dad was opposed. We were in the tobacco patch one day, and I was talking about going to college. I probably said something like, "I'll be damed if I am going to do this for a living." He said I wanted to go to college because I was lazy. He said I won't give you one red penny, you are too dam dumb to go to college. It only strengthened my resolve. He cursed me to the point that I said to myself, "I hate that SOB and I will go to college if I have to live on nothing but peanut butter and crackers." I look back and realize he suffered from the anxiety of raising 5 children on a farm that produced a gross income of about $2500 a year. When I went to college in 1968, we did not have indoor plumbing in the farm house. We carried water from a well where you pumped it with a hand pump into buckets. The water bucket set on a stand in the corner of the kitchen and everyone used a common tin dipper to get a drink.
When I went off to college, I rarely came home. Other kids flocked home on week-ends, I stayed on campus thinking it was like staying at the Copacabana. In the summers, I worked on a pig farm that had 600 brood sows. There, I met Kenneth Harper. The first time I sat down to one of their bountiful meals, Kenneth ask me if I wanted another piece of ham. I was too proud to say yes. I said, "I don't know." He said, "If you don't know, I sure don't." When we went outside, he put his arm on my shoulder and he said, Bert, in this life if you want something, you better ask for it, because if you don't, you are going to miss a lot in life. Kenneth taught me lessons. Rules to live by. Kenneth had more complexity in his lessons than dad. He gave me more appreciation of the benefits of being competitive and taking care of your needs. Being selfish if you had to be. He was kind and good but he was pragmatic. He lectured about the nonsense of being bashful. When everyone else was teaching humility and humbleness, Kenneth was on a different crusade. Kenneth and I would work all day together. He would talk and tell me stories. He would put his children on other tasks while he and I worked and talked. - When I returned to Kentucky from being out west for 33 years, I found out Kenneth was still living but he suffered a bad stroke. I have not gone to visit him.
When I came home after getting my Master's Degree, I was in the barn during a summer rain talking to my Uncle. I was trying to not sound educated. He knew it right off. He told me something I shall always remember. He said never dumb yourself down to another man's level. He said it is the biggest insult you can inflict on any man. My Uncle had a 6th grade education but he wanted to be talked to straight up.
