A five hour drive from home to the farm, I sat in the car sulking, wondering if from shoveling crap and feeding animals if such work would change my mind, and my learned attitudes.
Upon our arriving I saw what I rather expected, seeing there a pasture fenced as from rural road to the barn, with a quaint red brick with white framed windows made for a farmhouse set on a small hill.
There were several more buildings of various farm use, but the small red brick house stood out as all neat and decorated around with flowers and large Maple trees giving shade.
Mom warmly greeted her Uncle Ned, they talking, reminisced, it was uncle meeting his nephew for the first time ever, he made mention of when my dad came there for a visit at the farm-ranch. My dad, was attending then the university at Laramie, but for what reason he was there seemed then as undecided. A visit to Uncle Ned changed all that, as he told of my father learning to respect his elders.
Mom told weird stories about her Uncle, as she thought of him as a crackpot, a nasty old man. What Mom told was how my Dad acted as leaving his wife and family disgraced, but he changed Mom said, after meeting Uncle Ned.
Mom did all the introductions, she talking, as explaining to Uncle Ned as of how her son was lacking in sex education matters, the fault she blamed on the lacking of a father figure, that took all the blame. She made me stand there as she told the established story of how a foolhardy son did turn to fondling, finding the answers of life with a pretty girl.
I felt quite embarrassing to say the least, was not allowed to speak while Mom did the talking. Uncle Ned then shook my hand as if assuring his nephew, I would do well by doing what mom and he agreed, even if in fact neither of them asked my opinion on anything.
Wholly unexpected, as fortunately when mom drove away and left me there, Uncle Ned said little about my past, and suggested I walk around the farm to get my bearings.
What I had expected of Uncle Ned was what mother thought of him, he as an elderly old codger.
Uncle was the complete opposite of what I was led to expect. He was in his late seventies, but well dressed, drove a convertible sports car and had several other vehicles he used for farm business activities. He would ride a fiery stallion he named “Hostile Warrior”, and had tagged to the walls of his kitchen many a county fair ribbons for bull riding, calf roping; some as recent as dated from one year previous.
Oddly friendly, as considering all mom ever said of what her son did, Uncle Ned made no direct mentioning of it, but thought it a nice gesture that I have the same bedroom that my father had, when he was there for his visit.
Entering the room I saw pictures everywhere, a montage of wondrous years when an equally foolish son was at home and mimicked a loving father in all he accomplished. The room was untouched since that terrible day when at the last day of the Vietnam War, a stray bullet killed Uncle Ned's son, and ended his family heritage.
My eyeing of the many pictures told much. I had a cousin I never knew, he older but from what all was there to remind and be remembered, I felt as if I had met a fine form of a young man.
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