The July/August edition of Farm Journal contained the following poll on the last page. I liked the graphic and the topic of the poll was thought-provoking.
As my wife and I sat outside on a concrete bench under a live oak tree finishing our coffee, I showed her the Farm Journal poll and she asked me what items would make my most-dreaded childhood list. It didn't take me long to compile my list. Here goes:
1. Pulling red rice and coffee weeds in rice fields. This tops the list. In growing seed rice, you cannot have red rice or coffee weed seed in your sample. Inspectors from the Department of Agriculture would inspect the field on horseback. If they found some, your field failed and you could not sell it as seed rice. Seed rice carried with it a premium in price. To eliminate red rice, it involved the enlistment of childhood friends to spread out and walk the entire field, shoulder to shoulder and pull the offending red rice and coffee weeds. It was swelteringly hot. Mosquitoes were everywhere. Your pants immediately got soaking wet and you would get chafed between your legs. Your arms would get cut up by the rice. You'd get stung by wasps. It was exhausting work. It is, by far, the childhood chore I don't miss. It is amazing, though. I have friends who are successful doctors and financial planners who worked with me as a kid pulling red rice. They look back and always tell me that although it was a hellish task, they've never forgotten doing it. The comradery we shared, songs we sang, egg fights with marsh hen nests we'd wage, and work ethic instilled made it an unforgettable and formative part of our youth.
2. Spreading the bins. This comes in at #2. After rice harvesting was done each day, there was one final job that needed doing. We called it spreading the bins. The bazooka carried the rice by auger up and into the bins leaving a big cone of rice. The rice was dried by air pushed by large blowers. If you didn't knock the cone down level, the air would go to least resistance (the edges) and the center would never dry. We would climb in the bins with shovels and level them, going round and round shoveling the rice to the edges until it was flat. It was oppressively hot and humid and dusty in the bins. When we would emerge, it felt like air conditioning even though it was 90 degrees outside. We'd remove our masks and blow our noses. Black boogers would come out from all the dust! We'd be soaking wet with sweat. A shower or a jump in the pond felt so good!
3. Cleaning out the pit. The pit was a cone-shaped hole that the bazooka sat in. Rice or soybeans would be dumped in the pit and the bazooka carried it up to the bins. The pit would fill with rainwater. The rice or soybeans in the pit would sour. This all had to be removed prior to harvesting each day. We would take a Prestone coolant jug and cut it with a pocketknife to make a scoop. After pumping most of the water out of the pit with a pump, we'd shimmy down the pit with the scoop and a 5 gallon bucket and scoop the soured grain and water out to fill the bucket and dump outside the pit. There was always a bullfrog or a snake or some other critter in there. I remember the smell of the soured sludge! It would get on your hands and stunk so bad that soap wouldn't remove it. You just had to let time wear the smell off.
4. Picking up pine knots on new land. You always wanted to plant "new land." Land that had never been planted in crops. The soil was rested and yields would be great. After clearing the land, you'd disk it up. Numerous pine knots would arise. We'd hood an old wooden wagon to the back of the John Deere 4020 and would walk the land, throwing pine knots on the back. Disking the land again would reveal more knots and we'd repeat the process. It was hot. The sun was unforgiving. The pine knots were innumerable. One positive was that disking the land also exposed old timey bottles and homemade glass marbles. I've got some of those treasures somewhere at Mom & Dad's. Once the pine knots were removed, we'd empty the wagon by hand.
I sent this list to my Dad and brother. Dad looked at the Farm Journal poll and remarked, "Our list was much harder?" I agree! My brother remarked, "Ha. Yep. Good memories, though. I learned about the dignity in hard work and what it takes to be a man. Thank you Dad."
Indeed and Amen!
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