The drive down to see Dad was uneventful. We had lunch at Edgar and Glady’s in Nordheim. The food was not very good, but Dad loved it and that’s what matters.
On returning to the farm, we sat down to chat in the living room. I eventually dozed off in the chair closest by the air conditioner, the only spot in the room cool enough for water to remain liquid—Dad likes it hot. When I awoke, he had gone out to plow. I stretched out on the floor to finish waking up and get my legs working again. That old chair is not meant for long sitting spells.
Dad plowed under a small section of fence. While he didn’t want to fix it today, he did need help blocking it so the cattle don’t get loose. We used baling wire to secure a gate and a cattle panel across the gap, proving once again that you can fix almost anything with bailing wire and bubble gum.
That bit of exertion tuckered him out so much he wouldn’t eat anything for dinner except a small bowl of ice cream. Even so, his general condition is good, and his attitude is better. He is planning crops for next year, and he was genuinely put off when a neighbor asked, “So you’re gonna farm one more year?” I reminded him the guy was only parroting what Dad had been saying for more than twenty years.
“I know,” Dad said. “But it sounds so final when he says it.”