"Bales
of alfalfa from the field to the hay rack to the barn loft in an endless
procession -- this sums up my day.
Mechanical gadgets handle nearly all heavy work on the farm; but none is
inexpensive enough to be practicable for this work. Hence I spent another day
lifting alfalfa hay -- green gold to the farmer of 1947. Warren drove the team and old Mr. Dickson
with his snaggle-teeth a product of long years of ‘chawin’ tobacco, helped most
of the day. For a man of 65 he gets
around surprisingly well. His
predilection to talkativeness has run out -- and the old man was almost reticent
today. Dad characterizes him as a 'hill
billy.'"
--
Letter from my father, Bloomington, Kans., to my mother, Winfield, Kans., Tuesday,
July 1, 1947.
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