Thanks Dad, and Happy Fathers Day

One of the best things about getting old, besides being able to hide your own Easter eggs, is being able to tell the same story over and over. Here's one of my favorite stories about when I was growing up.

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 that I was going to finish the job. As I remember, I was pretty mad at him that afternoon.

I think I’ll thank him the next time I see him

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