5 December 2023, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2212: bean counter
My dad was a Bean Counter.
This is a pejorative term for an accountant or treasurer who wants to severely limit the amount of money spent for anything. It's also anyone who will "nickel and dime you to death" and keep a score card and make sure nobody gets more than what's coming to him. Most of all, Bean Counters know that a penny saved is a penny earned.
Add to that a Protestant work ethic, and you get my dad.
Waste not, want not! Work, work, work, earn, earn, earn, and save, save, save, but do not enjoy the fruits of your labor. Keep hoarding them!
I will not describe the grain bins full of rotting corn and beans nor all the WORK work WORK and effort and money that went into the planting and harvesting of these crops, and the broken brain of the old man who wouldn't sell off his harvest because he might have to pay income tax....
I am not a bean counter.
One thing Dad taught me is that I do not want to be too busy working to do the work of LIVING. I'm as un-busy as possible. #rebel
Dad was a very very busy farmer with five daughters all barely more than a year apart in age, yet he raised pigs, sheep, cows, and chickens; he built seven houses from scratch and dealt with tenants (oh the stress they added to his life, and Mom's); he built grain bins, and hired out as a carpenter; he was TOO BUSY for us kids and even for the grandkids -- but after sighing that he had so much to do, he would make time for a tractor ride, and maybe it wasn't just to show off his toys and fulfill a grandfatherly duty. He was really living when driving the grandkids down those dusty roads.
With Dad gone, "Grandpa Duty" was handed off to my husband (who was born and raised on a farm):
NOT TO BE TOO BUSY -
Not to work work earn earn save save
Are my five minutes up yet? I forgot to set the timer.
I think I've said enough for now about Dad, how he thought he'd take it all with him. He died a few months ago (in a dementia unit at a very expensive nursing home). The auction was in November. There went his tractors, trucks, combines, tools, and almost a century's hoarding and collecting.
Someday I might bring myself to talk about that day, that auction. Suffice to say, he did not roll in his grave (he was cremated, and his ashes are in the house he was born in). He did not thunder at us from the sky and I trust he just didn't see ALL HIS STUFF down below, getting sold to others.
For now I will focus on the two young men who caught my eye.
I regret that I could not snag a decent snapshot of them.
I keep mentioning Mennonites and deer-slayers to my unwed nieces (and daughter). 🙂 When the apocalypse hits (some say 2024!), the Amish and Mennonites and the outdoorsmen who kill adorable mammals, birds, and fish (ok, Big Mouth Bass may not be so adorable) - but - these "killers" (no PETA vegans here!) will be the hardiest survivors.
I'm reminded of one of my favorite memes:
Um...
yes....
At the epic, haunting, mind-blowing auction of all my dad's tools and implements, I kept noticing these two very striking young men, lean and sharp looking and well dressed with their black hats, clean shaven (my mom said that means unmarried). Turns out they're Mennonite, from a community only half an hour from my mom.
5 MINUTES! Woot!
I could stop, but but but, these men.
I keep wondering if my town-raised daughter will ever understand my preoccupation with homesteading and manly men.
The kind with apocalyptic warlord potential.
(Yes. I know. Mennonites are peaceful, not warlords.)
My neighbor has warlord potential.
He's a Navy vet.
He SHOOTS rabbits to protect the garden.
My own garden was decimated in 2023, by rabbits, mostly, possibly woodchucks too. Nope, didn't set a trap and fire a bullet at any of 'em, and the dogs just sat there watching as the rabbits munched on my garden.
Recently, my daughter was searching online for where to see bobcats in the wild in the Midwest. She happens to really fixated with these creatures thanks to a bobcat at the zoo, whom she visits and admires religiously.
Her search turned up this happy, hale and hearty HUNTER holding up his KILL -
A bobcat!
And he was thrilled to have added this to his Bucket List.
And he looks vaguely like my son, and he is very much the handsome Viking outdoorsman and hunter, AND he's a farm boy (who played college football) and he trains hunting dogs and ....
Me: "Here is my future son in law." The guy on the right; my son is on the left
Daughter: "MURDERER!"
Please Jesus make him my son-in-law,
I kinda/sorta halfheartedly say, not "pray," because my mantra is "Thy will be done," not mine, but if you would please send me a son-in-law like him (minus his joy in slaying beautiful bobcats), it might go a long way toward restoring my faith in God. LOL.
Do not take me too seriously, folks.
Before I go,
Here is Dad with my niece, and behind him is a landscape I had my husband draw for him in chalk pastel, an image of his own father, my grandpa, pipe clenched in his jaw, silhouetted against the sunset on Grandpa's first tractor.
(Yes, the farm boy I married is an extraordinary artist, and musician, and carpenter, and... that's a whole 'nother freewrite!)
That tractor got sold. Here is the auctioneer's image from his bill of sale:
My dad was not the world's best dad. He was a bean counter and a workaholic who seemed to value money more than time with family - but he was MY DAD and I loved him and always will.
Hard work and hoarding every penny possible is the way that generation did things. My father-in-law always said a penny saved is a penny earned and he saved a lot of pennies in his lifetime.
As every day passes it feels more and more like the world is about to implode and preparing for that possibility is something I take very seriously. Being self-sufficient gives me a piece of mind knowing that we will survive unless some countries decide to push the button down and the world is consumed by fire.
A nice tribute to your father. from that last picture, I see that your dad lived for a good long time. That's one thing hard work provides, longevity, even though all of that work may take its toll on one's body.
Splendid artwork by your husband of your dad on his tractor, a piece that should be cherished by future generations.
Thank you so much!!
I'm still extremely frugal - much more so than my peers - but to my parents, I would always look like a big spender. Dad would only buy the cheapest appliances and electronics, then complain that it's all JUNK. My husband on the other hand would consult Consumer Reports and buy the lawn tractor or fridge with good reviews, and pay three times or more what Dad would pay - well, you know the drill.
This!
I'm on a mission to do more foraging in the wild for herbs, maybe set up a greenhouse for growing my own veggies, or maybe move to a warmer climate (but after 60+ years here I'm finally learning to embrace the long, white winter).
Hard work gives our lives purpose and meaning, and too much leisure is bad for us.
Still: I am sad to see family members "too busy" working to have time for Sunday dinner or a Friday night of board games. Just ALWAYS WORKING or too tired to socialize....
NOTE: My grandpa's first tractor got sold at the auction, but not my husband's painting of Gpa on Tractor!! (A friend had misread that.) I would not sell original artwork especially of a subject so near and dear to me.
Five minutes... OF COURSE I had to go back in an edit the next day.
It's what I do...
My deepest condolences on losing your Father.
You described my Dad and husband, minus the hoarding.
Thanks. :)
I can see from your daily freewrites that WORK work work WORK is what you do, and you do it so well!! I'm in awe of you!
Work is good for us - although it can also grind us down with arthritis and other maladies. My mom's bricklaying family suffered from years of hard physical labor. Knees, hands, and feet can really take a beating from prolonged over-use.
But you know all that.
Be well!!
I agree, my body is paying the price for all the hard work I have put it through.
Sorry to hear your dad passed away. My condolences. This is a great post to honour his memory.
Thank you! :)
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Funny and bittersweet, that's my Carol Kean at her best, freewriting.
Your father. You chose a telling photo to use at the end of your post, all tight fisted Dad.
That tractor was, then, your grandfather's too? How old is that thing?!
I've missed you around here! How did I miss this post for four whole days?!
When you told me about the bobcat killer, I thought your daughter was already dating him! That would probably never get past one date, alas. May the perfect son-in-law turn up soon, and may both of them fall head over heels in true love. I hope Mariel doesn't have standards that are so "high," they take all the fun right outta loving.
Love that meme! I don't think Sam has warlord potential though. Is that enough to dump him?
Aww, thanks for reading - and GETTING IT, as always.
Yes, the tractor was my grandpa's, and it got sold at auction.
Yes, our daughter has high standards - which can interfere with living life to the fullest.
The bobcat killer couldn't get even one date with her.
It's one thing to hunt and kill to feed a hungry family, she says.
But to go off and search for a cat to kill (or a buck with a rack) as a trophy -
and to REJOICE over your kill -
Zero tolerance!
Me, I'm thinking the pool of son-in-law candidates just keeps getting smaller.
To dump a man for not having warlord potential - LOL! - this sounds like a hot potato I'd best not touch. Me and my ideas, my opinions. Nothing but trouble. You're one of a very small number of humans on this planet who actually pay attention to what I think about anything. Thanks again for reading and commenting. (And how did it take me three days to see this! We make a good pair.)
I'm not dumping Sam, he's as close to warlord potential as any man gets these days, so many have been emasculated by woke-ism. He drives around with Trump banners sticking up from his car! While I don't support Trump (because I believe he is controlled opposition), I do admire Sam's courage in driving around and openly expressing beliefs that could get his tires slashed. He's also openly loving, which could get him accused of sexual harassment. In other words, a real man!! A rarity these days.
I can see why the tractor is the object most salient for you from that sale. (Bad grammar, I know. Sorry) I mourn your loss. That would have been very hard for me to see go, too.
Does M eat meat? When the man who hunts our land brings me venison, I have a beautiful moment of gratefulness to the animal. I feel as if I nourished it, and gave it a lovely place to live, a decent life. If she eats meat that has been raised in factories, she's doing more harm to animals than if she shot them herself. I'd date a hunter; for the most part they are exceptionally lovely people. Except for the tenant I had to evict. The last straw was when he invited eight men with guns to hunt our land, even though he alone had been given permission to hunt only with a bow.
His work shirts, caps, coats, and boots - those affect us maybe even more than the tractor, as these are tactile things inside the house and to walk into his computer area and see his jacket draped over the chair, as if he were still there, ready to step back in a moment --
You already wrote a poem about the clothes.
Oh the irony of anti-hunting All-Heart animal lovers who also eat meat...
How utterly IGNORANT and OBLIVIOUS most people - where does your food come from -
The slaughter house. My spinster aunt worked 40 years at a meat packing plant.
The way chickens are sorted - male peeps are killed. Disposed of. And not in a nice way. Can't the poultry producers give away the baby roosters instead of (You don't want to know!).
Fishing is not as cringe-worthy as slaughtering furry mammals with big, warm eyes.
Oh man, I am not gonna 'go there' right now -
Suffice to say, I wish my daughter would take up gardening and homesteading and escape this daily grind, Mon-Fri, which leaves her exhausted and not LIVING even outside the office.
At age 45, Ruth Stout started gardening, and she made it as effortless as possible. You've probably heard of her. She was born in Kansas in the 1880s. As a white-haired old lady, she'd garden naked while smoking weed...
... no tilling, no poisons, no spray, but lots of hay and compost .....
Did Sam Stonehill recently post about her? She's so cool.
When she started listening to the plants, they told her what to do!!! OMG how much I love that. She tapped into the global intelligence system.
She just throws potatoes on the ground!
Fantastic!
I LOVE HER MOTHER!!!
I LOVE HER!
She lived, as did her parents before her, by natural law and the principles of nature, not by the laws of men. I wanna be her!!!
This is wonderful! I usually skim videos that are longer than a couple minutes, but I watched this one intently, no jetting off to see what the notification I got was, no getting up to make tea. I absolutely love this video!!! Thank you so much for giving it to me, to us!
Also, I'm glad you don't plan to "dump" Sam. :)
He sounds like Good People.
Which reminds me of this song I keep revisiting:
All of the people who care about you, and
all of the people that you care for too well,
let's wrap 'em in a big pink blanket
and stick them to yourself with glue.
This much I know, you mustn't let them go.
This much is true, sun shines when I'm with you.
Found via a cat video!
Great tune!!!!