I was 14, probably spending the summer on my grandparents' farm near Shelton, NE, my favorite place in the entire world. I never got over the love of that place and think of it fondly. It was hard work and lots of fun. I wish I could take my grandchildren there to see it and experience irrigating with tubes, splashing in the irrigation ditches, getting muddy on purpose, and showering in the basement with that well water that was so hard, it felt like someone was throwing gravel on you.
We ate cinnamon rolls and drank orange juice in the morning. We would eat big lunches at exactly 11:30 AM, and the oldest girls (my aunt Glenda and me) had to wash, dry and put the dishes away. Then we would go into the living room with the room air conditioner and find a place on the floor to watch Let's Make a Deal with Grandpa, who always fell asleep for a good hour.
Grandpa had a stroke three years later and they moved into town. He did buy a John Deere riding mower for his small yard. That was funny. He died in 1978. Sad.
Those were the days. It was a way different world back then. I remember so many summers of staying there and not wanting to go back to school in Denver. I wanted to go to my aunt and uncle's one-room schoolhouse for 1st-8th grades. That was a lot of fun. I went there a couple of times as a visitor. There were four people my age. That was it.