Dad, the Turning Row Terror
I titled the following story: “Dad, The Turning Row Terror.” This is not out of disrespect for my Dad. We were brought up to always be respectful to our elders and to our mother and father. This was just a seven year old boy’s opinion and after 73 years, I feel it’s OK to relive it.
I can’t help but think back to my younger years of growing up on the farm when it was time for corn planting. Whenever spring arrived, Dad would back his “Poppin’ Johnnie” (John Deere) tractor out of the shed. He would change the oil, grease and oil fittings and blow the dust out of the radiator. He then would employ the help of my big brother, George Jr. and me to carry out all of the equipment needed to saddle that tractor to get it ready to plant his cotton or corn. In the early years, starting from 1945, Dad started moving houses as a side job. He always considered himself a farmer first and then a house mover, even though he spent more time and made more money moving buildings.
Dad was the only one allowed to plant and cultivate his row crops. He always said that it brought him peace of mind to sit on that “Poppin’ Johnnie” all day long and forget all other troubles that might have to be solved the next day. Most of the other farm chores were done by me and my three brothers, my two sisters and of course, my mom. Mom would stay with us in the field and leave only when she had to go cook up the noon meal or supper for everyone.
I have mentioned a few times before about how Dad kept us busy at all times. Many of my chores to me seemed so senseless and unnecessary but I guess it was one way to keep me busy and out of trouble. Here’s an example or two: Every year after planting time, dad would give me a bucket full of fence staples and a hammer. He said for some reason many of the wires on the fence by the corn patch were hanging loose and I was to re-nail the whole fence line. Now this happened each year and I knew exactly why those fence wires were loose and hanging down but I wouldn’t dare tell dad. It just wasn’t my place to do so but I can relate the reason to you, the readers of this story!
You see, when dad got on that “Poppin’ Johnnie” (John Deere) tractor and started planting corn, he figured he would use up as much of that corn patch as he could for planting his corn. Therefore, he wouldn’t stop that tractor till it literally bumped into the fence post or the fence wire. His turning row was very narrow and he would back up a foot or so, and then lock his brake to turn sharply into the next row. He then would backup and again bump the fence with his back tires or sweeps, then proceed to start planting the other rows. This happened each time he turned around so one can see why that fence needed re-nailing each year!
Another reason that wire turned loose so easy was because the fence posts were home grown and cut from the burdock trees growing along our creek. These posts were so hard that I could not drive that fence staple but half way in before it would bend into an “S.” Some of these fence posts are still standing like the day they were put in 80 or more years ago.
Another peeve of mine was when dad told us to go chop or pull out all that Bermuda grass that was growing in circles in his corn patch. He said that he couldn’t figure out how all that Bermuda grass got into his clean patch. Well I knew, but I didn’t dare tell him. You see every time he backed his tractor up to that fence row and dropped his plows into the ground he would drop them on the Bermuda grass growing under that fence. Naturally some of the runners would stick to the plow and turn loose farther down the field. So not only was he planting corn, he was also planting Bermuda sprigs. Seems like the more we chopped it and pulled it, the more it grew. Not only did we chop and pull it, we had to shake it loose from the dirt and put it into a basket and carry it to the end of the row and throw it over the fence. Then I’m sure that same grass got pulled into the patch the next time my dad, the “turning row terror” came along.