Article Contributed on: 5/23/2009 11:49:13 PM
My grandfather was a farmer. He owned dozens of acres of prime corn-land as well as a house in the city. He would work his business in the city and then spend nights and weekends working the soil. In fact, he would eventually end his days on this mortal coil by plowing over himself while working his fields. OUCH.
So I guess you could say that farming is in my blood, (if you wanted to make a cruel joke of it all and shame on you for that).
During early Spring my family started seeds indoors and made preliminary plans for what we would eventually do with them. My part was easy because all of the kids decided to plant pumpkins. (I should add that I've always wanted to grow my own pumpkins and in spite of some heroic efforts I've never been successful. Still, I never mentioned it to the kids and they chose pumpkins on their own.) This meant that I had only to clear patch big enough for 3 pumpkin plants.
Knowing that, I decided to clear a rock garden out back and install an 8' X 8' boxed garden which would hold the pumpkins, a row of peas, 2 rows of corn and a broccoli patch.
Like I said, farming is in my blood.
So I shoveled out most of the rocks and built my frame only to find that it was madly uneven. How uneven? It was a serious '71.' So I took shovel in hand and continued to level the land. Of course,
The Knuckleheads wanted to help so I gave them each pitchforks and showed them how to turn the soil. Things were going swimmingly.
And then
Bink quickly tired of his efforts and left his pitchfork behind. Behind me, that is. When I went to adjust my digging profile I quickly realized this by the fact that I immediately stumbled around and fell - on my back and across the frame I'd already put down.
It's not quite like falling under your plow, but it kind of felt like it.
Urgent Care and the most painful set of x-rays ever showed that I didn't break a rib and I got good drugs out of it so I was mostly OK. Except I owed it to my family NOT to take the drugs at certain times. (We call those, "waking hours.")
Flash forward one week and one day: I have
The Knuckleheads and we're scheduled to travel all over town for all kinds of shopping. At our first stop I lean over and start to undo Bink's buckles. I groan from the pain because I'm stretching my right arm AND resting my injured ribcage - at the exact location of the injury - on my armrest.
As I undo the buckles - to much pain and groaning -
Bink says, "I sorry, Daddy." I ask, "for what?" expecting the answer to be something like, "I can't do it myself," but he knocks me completely on my arse by saying, "...for poking you with my fork in you back and..."
I'm nearly brought to tears as I realize that he's apologizing for tripping me. The feeling strikes me again as I tell him how he's touched my heart. Just because he has to know...
Chris Stone is better than he deserves...