copyright 2015 Chris Smith All rights reserved.
It had been raining for four days. I was on high alert for anyone that came on the Farm now. I heard a car below the Cabin. So I looked down at my Parents old house, the A-Frame on Parcel A, with my binoculars. It was another crew.
Two men in a truck pulled in front of the house and got out. They were having a conversation as they walked around the house and the Garage. There was a lot of gesturing with their hands and arms as they walked. I decided to come up with my own dialogue
"Do you believe this shit Frank?"
"No, Jim. I don't believe it."
"Look at all this shit!"
"I know. I don't believe it either."
"What the ever-loving-fuck? I mean, is this job for real?"
"It sure looks real."
"It sure does. You couldn't pay me enough money to clean this shit up!"
"Someone is outta their goddamn fucking mind. I don't have time for this shit!"
"Those fucking pricks in their fancy suits can kiss my squirrel if they think this shit is gonna fly. I mean what the ever-loving-fuck!"
"You call them and tell them not only no, but FUCK NO," says Bill.
"So that's a firm no?"
"That is FIRM fucking no, Jim."
"Let's get outta here. I'm hungry."
"Me too," says Jim.
I was amused. It was like watching a mime performance from the privacy of my living room! When I looked back down, they were gone. I laughed! I didn't blame them.
I had gotten the feeling that the veteran interviews we were about to undertake were only part of the equation to reaching our Dreams. Getting the interviews up on our web channel was critical. We weren't supposed to let those interviews sit around.
It was exciting to think of the interviews being web cast over the internet too. But it was also a lot of work. It seemed like a long way from where we were right now.
Dad got a call from one of our neighbors, Rich, who had seen the sale of the two parcels, Parcel C and D, listed in the "Legal Notices" of the local newspaper. He wanted to know if we were selling the parcel that was adjacent to his property, Parcel A. Dad told him we weren't and that we were in negotiations with the Bank to purchase the property back. It was our goal anyway.
We had a lot of neighbors who were behind us. I'm sure a certain of amount of neighbors didn't care about us either way. But there were some who'd be glad to be rid of us. I could almost picture them standing on the side of the road, waving with fake smiles plastered on their face, as if to say, "Really sorry to see you go. Not."
One of our neighbor's told my Dad if we needed help logging the place for timber before it was sold, we could log it and take the trees down the road in the middle of the night. At night there was hardly anyone out on the roads. While we were at it, we could help him log his property too!
But logging our property wasn't going to save us from what was coming. Refinance, logging the property, nor renting out all the dwellings wasn't going to change our lives. The only thing that was truly going to change our lives, was us, what we thought about ourselves, and what we expected from the lives we were living.
The sun finally came out later that afternoon. I went for a walk. I could hear the emergence of the cicadas in the distance. It was relaxing to walk along the dirt roads and listen to the birds and watch all the insects fly by. I met up with Dad on my walk. We walked together and talked.
"So do you know how much weight you've lost?" I asked.
"No. But a lot of people have been coming up to me telling me what great shape I must be in. I haven't told them it's not from working out. It's from stress and all the moving. Nothing like stress to help you lose weight," Dad said.
I didn't know how much weight we had all lost. It had to be five to ten pounds per person or more. I know my waistline had decreased by several inches. It wasn't exactly what we had in mind when we said we wanted to get in shape and lose weight.
I went down to the Glass House, for dinner. I was having dinner with them a lot more. I dined with them partly because I didn't have a lot of motivation to cook for myself and partly because I had even less of one to eat. Stress had become a killer for my appetite. I was probably eating half of what I ate normally.
I was shrinking into nothing and so was my life.
"Only when the last tree has died and the last river been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realise we cannot eat money."
Cree Indian Proverb
Indian Tribe of North America & Canada
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