My father was a doctor in a small city. During the 1960s a lot of the doctors bought some land in the country to relax on. My father bought 160 acres in 1963 when I was 8 (I think he got it for $2,000). The following year he got an Allis-Chalmer tractor that was so old it had to be cranked by hand to start it. I grew up riding on the fender. I was driving it by the time I was 10 although I wasn't strong enough to start it.
Later my father replaced it with a 1959 Ford tractor. We had some horses and planted a few acres in corn for feed so I learned how to plow and cultivate. At one point my father was trying to get up a hill with the corn planter attached but it was too heavy so he told me to hang onto the front grill to give it more weight. That was a bit too far and I refused after the first try.
But I survived all that and have a lot of good memories about driving the tractor, cutting trees with a chain saw, riding a motorcycle (when I was 13), rowing and swimming in the pond. I'm sure that all of that would be illegal today.
I finally sold the land last year for an ungodly profit.
Someday busybody neighbors are going to find out it's unhealthy to snitch to the authorities about what your neighbors are doing because no one will care what happened to them.
It feels like this is appropriate: (author unknown)
The most terrifying force of death, comes from the hands of "Men who wanted to be left Alone".
They try, so very hard, to mind their own business and provide for themselves and those they love.
They resist every impulse to fight back, knowing the forced and permanent change of life that will come from it.
They know, that the moment they fight back, the lives as they have lived them, are over.
The moment the "Men who wanted to be left Alone" are forced to fight back, it is a small form of suicide. They are literally killing off who they used to be. . . .
Which is why, when forced to take up violence, these "Men who wanted to be left Alone", fight with unholy vengeance against those who murdered their former lives. They fight with raw hate, and a drive that cannot be fathomed by those who are merely play-acting at politics and terror. TRUE TERROR will arrive at the Left's door, and they will cry, scream, and beg for mercy . . . . but it will fall upon deaf ears.
From 1990 thru 2010 we spent every Dec 1 to Dec 27 in London. We watched the great city UNWIND into Londonistan. We have not, and will not, return. It is no longer fun or safe. Eastern Europe now is superior.
Besides, I refuse to face arrest for the 2.5 inch "Cub Scout" pocket knife I have carried since 1956.
Most of my best memories with my grandfathers and father are of "helping" them on the farm and on residential construction sites. Certainly, there was danger but i not only learned many practical skills but also about what it meant to be a man. This is also when they were most likely to open up about personal stories from their own pasts...
My father was a doctor in a small city. During the 1960s a lot of the doctors bought some land in the country to relax on. My father bought 160 acres in 1963 when I was 8 (I think he got it for $2,000). The following year he got an Allis-Chalmer tractor that was so old it had to be cranked by hand to start it. I grew up riding on the fender. I was driving it by the time I was 10 although I wasn't strong enough to start it.
Later my father replaced it with a 1959 Ford tractor. We had some horses and planted a few acres in corn for feed so I learned how to plow and cultivate. At one point my father was trying to get up a hill with the corn planter attached but it was too heavy so he told me to hang onto the front grill to give it more weight. That was a bit too far and I refused after the first try.
But I survived all that and have a lot of good memories about driving the tractor, cutting trees with a chain saw, riding a motorcycle (when I was 13), rowing and swimming in the pond. I'm sure that all of that would be illegal today.
I finally sold the land last year for an ungodly profit.
Someday busybody neighbors are going to find out it's unhealthy to snitch to the authorities about what your neighbors are doing because no one will care what happened to them.
People minding their own business isn't just my political mantra, it's a health plan.
The more I contemplate this topic the more I think it will eventually evolve to the same way it did in Northern Ireland during the "Troubles."
BTW I can see the same thing happening here in the States. People want to back the Blue but the Blue have to decide which side they're really on.
It feels like this is appropriate: (author unknown)
The most terrifying force of death, comes from the hands of "Men who wanted to be left Alone".
They try, so very hard, to mind their own business and provide for themselves and those they love.
They resist every impulse to fight back, knowing the forced and permanent change of life that will come from it.
They know, that the moment they fight back, the lives as they have lived them, are over.
The moment the "Men who wanted to be left Alone" are forced to fight back, it is a small form of suicide. They are literally killing off who they used to be. . . .
Which is why, when forced to take up violence, these "Men who wanted to be left Alone", fight with unholy vengeance against those who murdered their former lives. They fight with raw hate, and a drive that cannot be fathomed by those who are merely play-acting at politics and terror. TRUE TERROR will arrive at the Left's door, and they will cry, scream, and beg for mercy . . . . but it will fall upon deaf ears.
It was not part of their blood,
It came to them very late,
With long arrears to make good,
When the Saxon began to hate.
They were not easily moved,
They were icy -- willing to wait
Till every count should be proved,
Ere the Saxon began to hate.
From 1990 thru 2010 we spent every Dec 1 to Dec 27 in London. We watched the great city UNWIND into Londonistan. We have not, and will not, return. It is no longer fun or safe. Eastern Europe now is superior.
Besides, I refuse to face arrest for the 2.5 inch "Cub Scout" pocket knife I have carried since 1956.
Brilliant writing!
Most of my best memories with my grandfathers and father are of "helping" them on the farm and on residential construction sites. Certainly, there was danger but i not only learned many practical skills but also about what it meant to be a man. This is also when they were most likely to open up about personal stories from their own pasts...
One of my fondest memories was riding around the yard with my dad on a police motorcycle. I had no helmet on at all, either.
Today, Dad would have been fired for that. Back then, not a word was said.