by Pa Rock
Nomad No More
Every now and then the urge to move shows up and takes over my life for a few days. There would be advantages to leaving my little farm in the Ozarks. For one, I could locate nearer to at least some of my grandchildren, and, for another, I could also move into an area where it might be possible to have intelligent conversations in the local coffee shops and other places where the natives gather.
All of that would be nice.
But staying put, even in deep red areas like West Plains also has advantages. As a septuagenarian, I now require the attention and services of several doctors. It has taken me four years to get that team together - general physician, cardiologist, endocrinologist, dermatologist, gastroenterologist, ophthalmologist, and pharmacist. Forming the team included a lot of starts and fits, including three tries to get the right cardiologist - but the end result is that I have a set of medical providers that I trust implicitly. Yes, they are spread out over three communities, but they are the right providers for me - each a good fit with my unique personality and medical needs.
(I am still looking for the right dentist.)
If I were to pull up stakes and leave the area I would also miss several very fine neighbors, real neighbors like the ones who used to stroll by for evening visits in Norman Rockwell's America. I have written about a few of them in the past as they have jumped into help with the mowing when mechanical problems sidelined me - and others who came by to help when crises arose with poultry who refused to follow my reasonable directions.
I don't think, however, that I have discussed my favorite neighbor, Rex, before. Rex is retired - and a couple of years older than me. Rex has a pair of tractors as well as all kinds of equipment for outdoor work, and he is one of those people who has to be busy doing something. The first time I met him he was on one of his tractors mowing grass along the road at the edge of my property. I stood in the yard and watched for awhile wondering why this stranger was clearing a roadway that, by rights, the county - or myself - should have been clearing. When he finished he came up to the house and introduced himself. Rex said that he has just taken it upon himself to trim along the roads out in our area - and had been doing it for years. An unpaid, one-man county road crew.
We became instant friends, and Rex was soon bush-hogging about half of my ten acres - the part that was too rough for my mower. Now he shows up twice a year, in the spring and fall, when he sees that it is time to cut the high grass back. He never charges what the work is actually worth, and I always add enough to the payment to try to make it fair. But Rex is retired and he works for the enjoyment of getting outdoors and doing something. He more than likely regards any pay that he receives as just gravy.
Yesterday Rex showed up for the fall bush-hogging. When he took a break, I walked him up to the house to discuss a tree in the front yard that I wanted removed. The tree, an old sugar maple, was diseased and dying one big limb at a time. It was leaning toward the house. I told Rex about a bid that I had received - one which I suspected was too high by local standards. Rex confirmed my suspicions that I was on the verge of being taken advantage of, and he said he would take care of it for less than half of the estimate.
He showed up this morning with his tractor, chainsaw, 100 feet of cable, some chains, and a pulley and quickly managed to get the tree laid down in the sole narrow space where it could land without damaging the house of some of my younger trees. It was an absolutely perfect tree-felling. Then he spent a couple of hours cutting the fallen tree into large chunks and dragging them to the backside of my property where the brush will serve as cover for the little animals who also call The Roost home.
And the bill was embarrassingly low. I doubled it and still walked away with a bargain - and a friend.
One reason that I wanted that tree brought down is that I am also considering putting metal roofs on my home and garage. I have had a bid for that as well, but it was from someone whose primary work has not been in roofing. Rex gave me the name and phone number of yet another neighbor, an Amish gentleman, whom he thought might be interested. I called and talked to the man, and he has a relative who "metals" roofs and will contact me.
Things are coming together, and a large part of that is due to good neighbors - and acquiring a team of good neighbors is easily as challenging as creating a team of doctors. It takes time and work and determination.
I am sure that some day I will have to move, but for the time-being uprooting and transplanting my life sounds like more work than I want to tackle.
Maybe my grandchildren could move here!
Nomad No More
Every now and then the urge to move shows up and takes over my life for a few days. There would be advantages to leaving my little farm in the Ozarks. For one, I could locate nearer to at least some of my grandchildren, and, for another, I could also move into an area where it might be possible to have intelligent conversations in the local coffee shops and other places where the natives gather.
All of that would be nice.
But staying put, even in deep red areas like West Plains also has advantages. As a septuagenarian, I now require the attention and services of several doctors. It has taken me four years to get that team together - general physician, cardiologist, endocrinologist, dermatologist, gastroenterologist, ophthalmologist, and pharmacist. Forming the team included a lot of starts and fits, including three tries to get the right cardiologist - but the end result is that I have a set of medical providers that I trust implicitly. Yes, they are spread out over three communities, but they are the right providers for me - each a good fit with my unique personality and medical needs.
(I am still looking for the right dentist.)
If I were to pull up stakes and leave the area I would also miss several very fine neighbors, real neighbors like the ones who used to stroll by for evening visits in Norman Rockwell's America. I have written about a few of them in the past as they have jumped into help with the mowing when mechanical problems sidelined me - and others who came by to help when crises arose with poultry who refused to follow my reasonable directions.
I don't think, however, that I have discussed my favorite neighbor, Rex, before. Rex is retired - and a couple of years older than me. Rex has a pair of tractors as well as all kinds of equipment for outdoor work, and he is one of those people who has to be busy doing something. The first time I met him he was on one of his tractors mowing grass along the road at the edge of my property. I stood in the yard and watched for awhile wondering why this stranger was clearing a roadway that, by rights, the county - or myself - should have been clearing. When he finished he came up to the house and introduced himself. Rex said that he has just taken it upon himself to trim along the roads out in our area - and had been doing it for years. An unpaid, one-man county road crew.
We became instant friends, and Rex was soon bush-hogging about half of my ten acres - the part that was too rough for my mower. Now he shows up twice a year, in the spring and fall, when he sees that it is time to cut the high grass back. He never charges what the work is actually worth, and I always add enough to the payment to try to make it fair. But Rex is retired and he works for the enjoyment of getting outdoors and doing something. He more than likely regards any pay that he receives as just gravy.
Yesterday Rex showed up for the fall bush-hogging. When he took a break, I walked him up to the house to discuss a tree in the front yard that I wanted removed. The tree, an old sugar maple, was diseased and dying one big limb at a time. It was leaning toward the house. I told Rex about a bid that I had received - one which I suspected was too high by local standards. Rex confirmed my suspicions that I was on the verge of being taken advantage of, and he said he would take care of it for less than half of the estimate.
He showed up this morning with his tractor, chainsaw, 100 feet of cable, some chains, and a pulley and quickly managed to get the tree laid down in the sole narrow space where it could land without damaging the house of some of my younger trees. It was an absolutely perfect tree-felling. Then he spent a couple of hours cutting the fallen tree into large chunks and dragging them to the backside of my property where the brush will serve as cover for the little animals who also call The Roost home.
And the bill was embarrassingly low. I doubled it and still walked away with a bargain - and a friend.
One reason that I wanted that tree brought down is that I am also considering putting metal roofs on my home and garage. I have had a bid for that as well, but it was from someone whose primary work has not been in roofing. Rex gave me the name and phone number of yet another neighbor, an Amish gentleman, whom he thought might be interested. I called and talked to the man, and he has a relative who "metals" roofs and will contact me.
Things are coming together, and a large part of that is due to good neighbors - and acquiring a team of good neighbors is easily as challenging as creating a team of doctors. It takes time and work and determination.
I am sure that some day I will have to move, but for the time-being uprooting and transplanting my life sounds like more work than I want to tackle.
Maybe my grandchildren could move here!
1 comment:
Love you Rock. Keep on slinging the truth and lets hope some of it sticks! Marty Roubik
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