Saying Good Bye To a Dear Old Friend, Part II

Tonight, I will recall with fond memories my early childhood years on the
family farm. It's a beautiful piece of property, measuring 160 acres in
size in the northern part of Illinois. Mostly clay soil, good for crops,
but a little sandy soil too.

When I was small, like any kid, I was curious. This got me into trouble at
times, particularly when I wandered out into the middle of the busy road on
which the farm is located. When I got into trouble, my parents put me in an
outdoor play pen they had built. That's something you couldn't, necessarily
do in the city.

I wandered out and played around the equipment, yeah, suffering my share of
bumps and bruises. Probably the two most serious things that happened to me
were when I fell over a wagon hitch one time when I was little and hurt my
leg. While I remember being in quite a bit of pain, X-Rays found nothing
broken.

The second most serious thing that happened was when I was riding my bike at
the age of about 9 or 10, and rode it straight into a hay rake. Now for
those who do not know, a hay rake is what puts hay and straw into piles to
be baled using another piece of equipment called a hay baler. If you have
ever been anywhere and seen or sat on bales of straw, those were made up
using a hay baler.

Well, the rake had to put it into piles in order for it to be baled. I got
cut up pretty good on its sharp blades, but thank goodness I didn't have to
go to the hospital for that one, although it was close.

You see, while I had my share of accidents, that was what was so great about
the farm. My parents let me explore and learn what was dangerous and what
was not, sometimes the hard way. When you are around heavy machinery and
big animals early in your life, you develop a healthy respect for them, let
me tell you. Like all of the times when I was six or seven and tried riding
on the back of a pig. Heck, I figured, if horses like to be ridden, pigs do
to, right?

Wrong. The pig riding escapade ended when I conked my head on an overhead
pipe. I discovered pigs don't like to be ridden.

Then there was the time over at the neighbor's farm when I put my foot into
a cow pen, only to be kicked by the darn cow. Guess she didn't like that!
Ouch, it hurt!