As life keeps on rolling along like it always will.. my daughter’s and I got to take some time this weekend to spend at my dads. My dad grew up on a dairy farm and milked cows for his family and several neighbors till his early 20’s when he enlisted in the Navy. My dad loves hearing about my job and I love hearing stories of his life growing up on a dairy farm…. plowing with horses and milking by hand.. his family farm rarely had more than 14 (did I mention .. they milked By Hand!) but his neighbor milked up to 40 (By Hand). Stories of how he ONCE tried riding the bull and he always shows me the scar on his leg from the “dismount”. And how he never told his mother how bad it really was.. How on the coldest days of Michigan winters he and his brothers would burrow in the fresh straw with the pigs to warm up… good memories of a life that was often brutally hard but taught him the value of hard work, honesty, integrity and respect.
Here is my father… explaining to my younger daughter why he eats Oatmeal the way he does.. with a separate bowl of milk.. He said they would have a large bowl of oatmeal in the middle of the table and each had their own bowl of milk. .. it saved on dishes and he never liked eating oatmeal “soup”.. a separate bowl of milk let everyone have each bite just the way they liked it..
So… my father and my daughter ate oatmeal together Saturday morning each with their own bowl of milk… making a memory that will last each of them a lifetime… moments in life that no amount of money buys…