City Bob, Country Bob

This dispatch is dedicated to my Dad.
And to the Rev. Al Negstad.
And to Duane Rigg.

None of these people read the charmer blog because they are too busy with respective trucks, tractors, and John Deere collections. So they won't even know about this cyber honor, but I'm making these dedications anyway because our cylinder index just went up by 17. (I think those are cylinders. Or maybe that's horsepower.)

This is kind of like when people in New York City would say to me, "Oh you mean there are universities in South Dakota?" when I told them where I got my degree. They were not trying to insult me; they were genuinely curious. Or when I was dubbed as "farm girl" even though I never lived on a farm. Or when someone said, "Hey a friend of mine lives out your way." He was referring to the state of Washington, which is of course 1,000 miles away from the Midwest but to some New Yorkers it's all west of the Hudson River.

So when our new neighbors do talk with us about the first thing they say, "You sure got a big yard." and "That's a lot of mowing." and "I don't know why anyone would want all that yard work."

My stock response is this: Well, you see, my husband is from New York City and he's never had a yard and so when he saw this yard he just fell in love with it and he actually likes yard work . . .

And by now the neighbors' eyes have glazed; they are wondering why this wife gives such lengthy response to an innocuous comment.

*

"Did you tell the tractor dealer-guy that you're from New York City?" I asked Bob.

"No," he replied.

I think it's a guy thing.

Otherwise it might be like, "You mean, there are no riding lawn mowers with mulcher attachments in Brooklyn?" Meaning no offense, but just in wonder. While I somehow invite such a comments, Bob deftly eludes them. Even when the John Deere guy came to deliver the used-a-bit treasure, Bob could put on his "this is not such a big deal" kind of posture.

But make no mistake. This is a big deal. We have settled in Iowa. We have a homestead. We live in the original house of a former horse farm. We are all well and Bob has a call at a church who counts their top two priorities as "social concerns and fine arts." And they really do mean fine. The little green and yellow tractor has joined with the big city boy and they are happily one. Who says you can't change in the second half of a life's century?

Thank you for the glorious extra hour of sleep tonight.

With love, T

P.S. It's so great to chat about mulching fall leaves on the one-year anniversary of the hospital-binging we did last November. Thanks to all of you a thousand times.