UNCLE PETE''S FARM

                                                

Not so long ago and not so far away, I remember the world of my parents. It was a far quieter world then we now live in and a more people friendly place. It was a world of quiet times by myself, roaming the woods and streams around the small town I grew up in. No portable phones and no televisions. Just a boy left alone with his imagination because that was really all I had for entertainment and to be truthful, it was all I really needed. No walkmans or I Pads or I Pods. The music that was in my head was sufficient. My dog was my confident and constant companion.

But, I wasn’t anti social. On Sunday afternoons my family usually gathered out at the farm. Everybody brought a dish to pass around and us cousins played softball in the pasture with cow pies for bases and hide & seek in the haymows and outbuildings. All of the old folks gathered in the house, men in the parlor and women in the kitchen and although I wasn’t privy to their conversations, because children knew their place back then, it wasn’t ever-contentious issues and laughter seemed to abound the most. They were family and that was the most important thing to them and that was why they gathered and enjoyed those times.

Then my world got all busy. My cousins drifted away, as did I, and the family gatherings at my uncle’s farm ceased. I grew up and went out to face a world I wasn’t prepared to face, in places where I was never comfortable. It was all asphalt and traffic and people rushing everywhere. The quietness of the rivers, woods and that farm were replaced with noisy televisions and people never happy, always looking for that elusive step up in life. Somehow yet, I adapted and became one of them, but I never accepted it. Fortunately I did live to retire back up north and found a little corner of the world, where sunshine and nature combined to feed my restless mind.

I’m an old man now and although I still remember that better world I originally came from, society and all of us have largely moved on. The quiet woods I came back to enjoy are criss-crossed with 4 wheeler trails and snowmobile paths and the trash they left behind. Helicopters and small planes fly nosily overhead while wave runners and speedboats race around our lake.  The sleepy town I live near in the summer, sometimes resembles what I left behind in the big city. Life has moved on and largely without me.

I drive by uncle Pete’s farm as I make my way over to my hometown, a couple of times a year to see my siblings that still live there. I can still hear the laughter from the kids playing; I can still taste and smell the hot dishes and the food we enjoyed together as family. I remember my diminutive ever-busy aunt Chris who looked so much like Mother Theresa always smiling in her apron. My uncle Pete in his overalls telling his kids playtime was over for now, because there were chores to do. Work or not, I have always envied those who farm.

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