Long tall corn stalks
Back in the early seventies we would go to a old neighbors farm for a week or so to be left there. To give the 'rents a respite from us I suppose. ('rents wasn't a word back then, it is today and I like it.)we had been around farmish places before. There was 80 acres just north of our house that was often times left alone for us hellions to roam around and "check shit out". I remember the summer of 1976 that we stayed there, we being me and my brother. It wasn't a big working farm but a small family hobby type farm where you could have your own horse chickens geese a couple cows and acre upon acre of corn. Now kids and corn fields in summer heat is a sensation you shouldn't soon forget. I don't know if I've forgotten but I was reminded today as I drove by a corn field that had to be 7'-8' tall. What brought me back to the summer of '76 was the spacing of the rows and the height of the stalks. And I'm thinking to myself, were they that close together back then?Were they that tall back then? Being younger smaller less aware they seemed so large and so roomy to run and hide in .
to chase each other in to peal off ears and throw them as hard as you could at each other. The smell was dirt and dusty and sweet. You could run around inside a canopy of corn leaves all day. It was cooler in the shade it seemed. Not that we would really notice how hot it might have been. We wore shorts and mostly no shirts tennis shoes with no socks. A bunch of snot breathing savages. Our uncles called us little savage Indians. Butch hair cutted savages. But back to the farm on Sunday we had to clean up come in from the fields and go into town to watch the parade look around at the fair meet up with gulag operators('rents)see the fireworks then go home. In '76 we had bicentennial fever if you remember right. The large town we went to see the fireworks in had painted all the fire plugs with patriotic acutremons. I remember that part. I also remember driving to town from the farm. The dad that owned the farm was called Robert big bob he was a cowboy type. Wore pointy boots a straw cowboy hat had a giant belt buckle tight dirty wrangler jeans. And a huge chaw of tobacco in his mouth. Well there is always a fight in a larger family for the window seat in car trip. I mean there might be six or eight kids packed into a freekin car that was built back in the late '60's. No seat belts not restraint except for someone yelling about stopping the car to smash heads if shit didn't settle. Anyway I won the fight for the window seat. This seat was directly behind big bob the driver. We pull out on the main highway the hot air rushing around in the car the 4-65 air conditioner was in full force and I decide what a big shot I am and set my elbow on the door sill my hand on the top of the door and peer out at the countryside rolling by. When I feel a cool wet splat on my forearm. This is a huge wet splat . As I pull my arm in and look at what hit me I see bigbob looking in his rear view mirror grinnin that slick cowboy bob grin. I look and its slime he just spit out his window that landed all over my arm. Disgusting slimy brown spit all over and I just got cleaned up for the fair. I had to wipe this crap all over the pants I was wearin and it still stained my arm. Couldn't say anything or ask for help cleaning it. number one nobody was allowed to put their arm out a window like that and two I fought so hard for the seat I couldn't be complaining now that I hadda roll up the window to keep from getting pelted anew from big bobs spitoon..........
to chase each other in to peal off ears and throw them as hard as you could at each other. The smell was dirt and dusty and sweet. You could run around inside a canopy of corn leaves all day. It was cooler in the shade it seemed. Not that we would really notice how hot it might have been. We wore shorts and mostly no shirts tennis shoes with no socks. A bunch of snot breathing savages. Our uncles called us little savage Indians. Butch hair cutted savages. But back to the farm on Sunday we had to clean up come in from the fields and go into town to watch the parade look around at the fair meet up with gulag operators('rents)see the fireworks then go home. In '76 we had bicentennial fever if you remember right. The large town we went to see the fireworks in had painted all the fire plugs with patriotic acutremons. I remember that part. I also remember driving to town from the farm. The dad that owned the farm was called Robert big bob he was a cowboy type. Wore pointy boots a straw cowboy hat had a giant belt buckle tight dirty wrangler jeans. And a huge chaw of tobacco in his mouth. Well there is always a fight in a larger family for the window seat in car trip. I mean there might be six or eight kids packed into a freekin car that was built back in the late '60's. No seat belts not restraint except for someone yelling about stopping the car to smash heads if shit didn't settle. Anyway I won the fight for the window seat. This seat was directly behind big bob the driver. We pull out on the main highway the hot air rushing around in the car the 4-65 air conditioner was in full force and I decide what a big shot I am and set my elbow on the door sill my hand on the top of the door and peer out at the countryside rolling by. When I feel a cool wet splat on my forearm. This is a huge wet splat . As I pull my arm in and look at what hit me I see bigbob looking in his rear view mirror grinnin that slick cowboy bob grin. I look and its slime he just spit out his window that landed all over my arm. Disgusting slimy brown spit all over and I just got cleaned up for the fair. I had to wipe this crap all over the pants I was wearin and it still stained my arm. Couldn't say anything or ask for help cleaning it. number one nobody was allowed to put their arm out a window like that and two I fought so hard for the seat I couldn't be complaining now that I hadda roll up the window to keep from getting pelted anew from big bobs spitoon..........
