Charlie Watson. I oughta take my hat off when I think of him. I remember when I was very young, Id say about 7 or barely 8, if memory serves me correctly, way back when I had more days ahead of me than behind me. Not like today when the reverse is true. We were poor folks living in a middle class world because of things that are way outside the realm of understanding for most folks. Charlie had a dairy farm across the road from our tar paper shack with the three holer out back and a low volume artesian well that dribbled ice water from a pipe in the ground year around. He was a grandfatherly looking type, weathered skin, worn, tried and true work clothes, some pounds over weight. One day I slipped across the road and asked Charlie for a job. And he hired me on the spot and my pay was to be one quart of fresh from the cow Jersey milk in the morning and one quart in the evening. I really should say, 3/4s of a quart of yellow cream and a 1/4 quart of milk morning and night. Yellow, liquid gold topped off with a dash of silver. Words cannot describe what that Jersey milk tasted like poured over wild raspberries from the swamp behind the house. Actually, being the only one in the family who had a job didnt taste all that bad either. I realize now that I was more of a hindrance than a helper - at the beginning. In no time I could pretty much run the farm by myself. I could milk all the cows, I could operate all the machinery. The cows would stay in the barn all through the cold Upper Peninsula winters, new bedding placed on top of old each day. And when warm returned, just before the cows were scubbing their backs on the barn ceiling, all that had to be cleaned out. I *LOVED* that job! Id back the manure spreader up to the door and wrestle it so full it wouldnt hold a spoonful more. Then Id fire up the tractor and head off across the field wide open and slam the spreader in gear leaving a huge, fine black mist behind to drift down. Then Id race back to the barn for another load. I *LOVED* that job. And I love Charlie Watson. He is long gone to his reward but he still lives in me. He shared my belief in me.
Posted on: Fri, 28 Mar 2014 19:28:46 +0000
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