Dirt Road Journey's

A life well lived is a bumpy ride.


Hmmmm.....

My Grandpa's Farm... If you pull in the yard today, it is virtually unchanged. It has been 10 years since he passed away, yet his duct tape repairs and creative solutions are still apparent around the Barn.

The trees are bigger and the buildings are aging, but it has the same soothing familiarity that has always been there. My Grandma Marge still lives there, usually sitting in the same dining room chair as always, positioned just right so that she can see the T.V. and the barn yard at the same time, while smoking her cigarettes.

At one time, this was a busy horse farm complete with 13 quarter horses, a pair of goats, some rabbits, chickens, lots of barn cats and a host of different dogs. All with hilarious names.

My Grandfather used to eat breakfast with his three favorite cats gathered around him waiting for a taste of his eggs and toast with jam. In the barn, his music of choice was not country, but Big Band music. He always had the radio on because he didn't want the animals to get lonely.

My grandpa was a stern guy, but he never raised his voice. He was a business man, but loved animals. When he sold his insurance company and retired, he bought the same farm that now sits in disrepair and turned it into a place to lodge their show horses. Although he was stern, he had a fun side.

For a good part of my life, we lived accross the street. In my memories and dreams, the farm is still that same place where we went for bon fires and parties and people gathered to ride horses together and play guitars out in the yard.

My Aunt Frannie was always into horses and lived in an apartment in the barn yard separate from the farm house for years. She, like a lot of our family, was/is a cool hippie type that added another fun element to the farm. There were always different people stopping in. There was always lots of music being played.

My Grandma Marge is the glue that holds the family together. She is a very hip lady for 83. She's open minded and a true rebel at heart. While, her health is deteriorating, she is still one of the wisest people I know.

One day, the farm will belong to Aunt Fran and her husband. I only hope that they can maintain the farm as a family gathering place or part of my heart will be gone.

I didn't cry at my granfather's funeral. I have a feeling that when my grandma passes, I will mourn for the both of them. I have a feeling that I will have to mourn the farm as we know it at the same time.......