Farm girls are built different.

In the best way

I was still a kid really. We used to occasionally help the farmer and he used to let us fish in his pond.

So it was hay bailing time and the hay was bailed and we were handballing them on to the trailer. I was struggling to pick up one.

The farmer's wife had one in each hand. She was 8 ½ months pregnant. Farm folk are built different!

My dad was a farm kid. He used to put the tractor in gear and hand bomb square bales onto the trailer and keep up to the rolling tractor.

He was extremely fit in his younger years, and his work capacity has only begun to slow down a bit after having a stroke at 60.

All dads are superheros to their kids, but mine was this bronze Roman god statue of a man.

Long time ago, I had a client who grew up on a farm in Indiana in the 1930's. I think his dad was trained to operate a Case steam engine and would take it around to each farm to thresh grain, and he would ride along to help fuel and water the engine.

He said one thing that fascinated him was, "on one farm, there was this big German fella who always carried a thermos of hot black coffee. Nothing else. Just hot coffee. And he'd spend all day loading wheat into the thresher, in the hot sun, only stopping to take a swig of his coffee. I always figured the engine would run out of steam before he did."

I heard lots of stories from people that I've long since forgotten but for some reason that one stuck with me.

the sypmathy headache I just got, jesus.