TREASURE WHAT YOU HAVE!

He would be able to prove himself, finally! Granddad offered Dad a piece of bottom land on which to plant and harvest about twenty five acres of cotton. Dad had to plow it, fertilize it, chop the Johnson grass down so it wouldn’t over run the cotton, sweat out the sun, untimely rains, and even the creek flooding. Finally it all came together and the day of harvest had arrived. The cotton was tall, the leaves about the consistency of tan parchment paper, the bowls had opened, and the cotton was showing snowy white. Dad hitched the team to the wagon before daylight, got plenty of cotton sacks, and carefully slipped the scales under the seat. He wanted to make sure the weights were right, and get all the money coming to him. With the help of a few of his friends, they picked the stalks clean. You could hardly find a white spot in the field when they finished. It’s surprising how well a person can work if the money belongs to him. Anyway, when all was weighed out and expenses paid, Dad had $150 coming to him. That was somewhere around the fall of 1927 or ‘28. Believe it or not, that amounted to a years salary for a family, but this was all Dad’s. It would be a very prosperous and fun year for an eighteen year old.
Now enters Dad’s brother, my Uncle Ray. He had the Sunday afternoon off and decided to spend it with a friend down the road. They loaded up their pockets with .22 caliber bullets and carrying their old single shot rifles they headed for the barn to shoot rats. Something that would offer them fun, and provide a necessary service for the farm. Things were going well until Uncle Ray’s friend fail to practice the safety rules his father had taught him. He fired a shot, broke the .22 down, took out the spent shell, put in the new shell, and then locked it back in place while the muzzle of the rifle was pointed right at Uncle Ray. The gun fired striking him in the abdomen and lodging within a fraction of an inch of his spine. That same bullet is still in his body to this very day.
Of course, the family was devastated, they rushed him to the Dr‘s. office, which was in his home, as quickly as they could. Dr. Yeater, a veteran of World War I, and skilled in wounds of this kind, quickly stopped the bleeding and informed the family that it would be too risky to operate. Uncle Ray was kept immobilized for days until the wound began to heal. The doc looked in on him often and the cost of all of this medical attention was (you may have guessed it by now) $150. Granddad didn’t have the money for the care, he had a family of seven to support. He went to Dad and explained the situation. Although he was highly disappointed he readily agreed to use his money to pay the bills. What looked like a fun year just a few days before would now be reduced to having spending money only when he could find a job. That is, find a job that would pay him money. There was always work to do, you just didn’t get paid for it.
Whether he intended to use this as a character building situation or not is still questionable, even to this day. However, that’s the way it turned out. From that experience Dad learned to treasure what he earned and to carefully administer what he had. “You never know what’s coming to take what you’ve got away from you,” was one of my Dad’s oft repeated warnings. And that’s my point. Treasure what you have right now. You may not get to keep it for long. The more you treasure it now, the easier it is to lose it and not lose your character when its gone.
Don in Georgetown