›               o=o=o=o=o=›› Once  in  a while, one of our members› does some  writing  that,  while  not› specificlly  related  to  Atari 8-bit› computing,   nevertheless    warrants› reading.   The  following  article by› THOMAS J. ANDREWS  _WAS_,  I've  been› assured,  written  on  a  130XE using› TextPro.  It  appeared  in  the  June› issues  of   American   Agriculturist› (including  New  York  Farmer,)   New› England  Farmer,  Pennsylvana  Farmer› and  Maryland  Farmer.   My   farming› background  is  nil,  but   I   could› certainly  relate  to it.  The timing› of the original publications (just in› time  for  Father's  Day)  was   most› appropriate.     Thanks,   Tom,   for› sharing a great piece of writing  and› a  warm  and  delicious slice of life› with us -- Ed.››         BALING HAY to MANHOOD›         by Thomas J. Andrews›› "I'm gonna need your help today," Dad› said that sunny July morning.  "We've› got a lot of hay to get in, and  your› Grandfather  can't  be  here to help.› You're going to drive the tractor for› me."›› I  must have been 11 at the time, and› this was  something  I  hadn't  heard› before.   Dad  started  with  a basic› demonstration,   driving   while    I› watched.›› "Keep  the  windrow  in the center of› the pickup, if you  can,  like  this,› and  move  your head forward and back› to watch where you're going and where› the hay is going.  Glance back at the› wagon, too, and watch for my signals.› If I want you to go faster, I'll move› my hand like this.   Listen  closely,› because  if  I  want you to stop in a› hurry I'll  yell,  'Whoa!'   Got  all› that?  All right -- your turn."›› Dad  rode  along  while I drove a few› feet.   Then,   with   a   word    of› encouragement,  he  left  to load the› wagon.   I  was  on  my  own  on  the› tractor, saddled  with  the  heaviest› responsibility I'd ever carried.›› A TEMPERED TEMPER.›› Dad wasn't one to have much tolerance› with stupid mistakes, but that day he› was  a monument of patience.  He must› have realized how  scared  I  was  of› messing up.›› When  I  drifted  off   the   windrow› because I watched the baler too much,› he simply pointed it out and told  me› how   to   adjust -- every  time   it› happened. When the knotter fouled  up› and I missed his "Whoa!" he just told› me to pay better attention.   When  I› fed  in a big wad of hay too fast and› broke the shear bolt,  he  calmed  my› fears,  taking the blame onto himself› for "not raking it right."›› I know now how tremendous  an  effort› he  made  at  keeping  all the little› frustrations of the day  to  himself,› realizing  that it wouldn't take much› to shake my feeble confidence.›› We managed to get all that hay baled.› When  it  was  all  put  away for the› night, Dad turned  to  me  and  said,› "Thanks,  Kid.  I never could've done› it withoutcha."›› That   was  a  milestone  I'll  never› forget. It felt good.  It  felt  very› good.›› A SLOW CHANGE›› Things  changed after that, slowly at› first, but faster as time  went  on. › No  longer  did  I  "help" around the› farm, I  truly  did  help.   Dad  and› Gramp  started  teaching  me  how  to› drive  the  tractor  and  operate the› machinery behind it.›› I learned how to plow straight,  even› furrows,  how  to  tell  when  hay is› ready to bale, how to  stack  hay  in› the  mow so it cures properly, how to› use my imagination to keep a  machine› going when the parts dealer is closed› for the weekend, how to stick with  a› task  until  it is completed, and how› to do what has to be done  whether  I› want to or not.›› I  learned  how to be a farmer, and a› man.›› I'm   nearly   50  now.   My  younger› brother and I  own  and  operate  the› farm  where  we  grew  up.   Dad   is› retired,  but  still  offers  bits of› advice from time to time,  and  while› we  don't always take it, it's always› welcomed.›› The field where Dad and I worked  was› rotated  back  into  hay  a couple of› years ago.  It's one of our best  hay› fields.›› When  I  go out to that field to bale› hay my thoughts  can't  help  but  go› back  to  that  hot  July day so many› years ago.  And perhaps  I  might  be› forgiven  if, just once, my eyes mist› over and I  drift  off  the  windrow,› just a little.›› Thanks  Dad.   We never could've done› it withoutcha.››› Tom Andrews››               o=o=o=o=o=››