the manager, had known me since Little League.
He listened when I asked whether he needed help during the spring.
He didn’t ask why I wasn’t working on Dad’s farm.
I appreciated that.
“Still have your commercial driver’s license?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I need someone to haul fertilizer and help at the feed mill. Twenty-three dollars an hour.”
“When can I start?”
“Monday.”
So a man who’d spent twenty-two years helping operate four hundred acres began hauling fertilizer to other people’s fields.
Every morning, I fed my own cattle before
