Nice evening meal with old friends and my
sister. He was a year behind me in high school and I’ve always liked his wife.
They are successful ranchers. Few know how many ‘town jobs’ they worked to
save the ranch he inherited. In her case, thirty years in public education.
They are nationally prominent in the
American Legion and cattle originations. In their local community they have
contributed to such diverse organizations as the cemetery board to the local library.
Now in their seventies, they have their
health and wealth and are enjoying their lives. New house (the old one was 100
years old), new car, and travels to wherever they want to go when they want to
go.
Still, they remain humble. I am happy for
their success and have zero feelings of jealousy. They have earned every bit of
it. I am proud they consider my sister and I good friends.
8 comments:
I'm not surprised. Country folk don't let money, or lack of it, go to their heads.
Most country folks are more concerned with your character.
Have some "Poor Farmer" friends like that back in Illinois.
Friends are friends. It's not about how much money you have or what you can do for them. I use the word 'friend' carefully. And I don't have a lot of friends. But that's ok. Friends, such as the ones that you mentioned, are not the people who will cast you off when times get tough.
This is how I define a friend: John and I are in a bar, a fight breaks out. John says, "LL, I have your back." At some point I'm hit in the back by a brawler. That means that John is dead. Of course it cuts both ways, but that's how it has to be.
drjim
Can't think of a harder way to accumulate wealth than agriculture.
LL
Nice summation.
Having supper with this couple reminds WSF & I of our time growing up. As we traded stories from the past and caught up on what's happening or happpend to mutual friends and acquaintenances, we were reminded of the warmth of those memories. As the saying goes "Makes new friends but keep the old. One is Silver and the other is Gold".
Sisty
Hear, hear!
Yep, they worked their rear ends off for three generations to get to be "Poor Farmers".
The sons could fix damn near anything with a pair of vise-grips, some duct tape, and a spool of bailin' wire.
And the wimmenfolk were outrageous cooks.
Some of the best people I've ever had the honor of meeting.....
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