Look Deeper

While Dad drove us across West Texas. my bored little brother and I sat in the back seat--restlessly watching miles of cactus roll by. "Hey, we're not far from Ballinger," Dad said. "I'm going to show you kids where I grew up." He turned off the highway and drove along, all the while recounting the hardships of growing up the son of a dirt farmer during the Great Depression.

My grandfather did his best for many years to make a living growing cotton. In those days, children were valued for their ability to contribute labor to the farm. "This land is no good for anything," Dad said, waving a hand toward the passing landscape. "Too dry and rocky. I can remember lots of days when all I did was haul rocks out of the fields all day long." We rode on, Mom lost in her own memories, Dad extolling the softness of the city life we lived. "Smartest thing your grandfather ever did was get off this farm and start selling insurance," he told us.

My usually talkative father grew silent as he slowly navigated a dirt road. He stopped the car on the narrow shoulder and went to stand by a barbed wire fence. Anxious to be released from the prison of the back seat, my brother George and I went to stand beside him. There was no crop in the fields. Instead, about 20 feet apart, as far as I could see, machines we called "pumping jennys" were pulling oil from beneath the dry, rocky ground.

"Let's go," was all Dad said. We piled into the car and went on to our destination. As far as I recall, my father never spoke of that trip or the worthlessness of the old farm again.

Carlene Havel,author of "A Hero's Homecoming"
http://www.prismbookgroup.com/AHerosH...