Growing up on a farm nine miles outside of Alva Oklahoma, my Dad was always at home somewhere. Although being somewhere didn't mean that you could find him immediately! I recall that my task as a child was sometimes to go take Dad some water or to tell him it was time to come into the house. Sometimes, that meant looking in the barn, the machine shed, the garage, even the pasture to locate him.
Dad kept busy, alright. My Dad was also often on a tracter on the land, at home and at home on the land. There were those few few summer weeks when he went as far as Nebraska custom wheat harvesting. He loved doing that, custom wheat harvesting, so much that it was my Mom who had to tell him to stop, when it became no longer profitable. My father loved the land and loved his life and seemed to like everything he did for the most part. My Dad seemed happier most of the time than my Mom although was Mom wasn't depressed or anything.
My Dad was always working, either plowing, or fixing, or hammering, or tinkering on some cranky broken down piece of farm equipment.
My Dad died when I was 19, but I'm sure he is still busy working, fixing, or tinkering somewhere.
Happy Father's Day - Dad!
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