Here in the South it is common to find family farms. They are quickly becoming a past way of life. It is difficult for many of them to make enough money from farming and they are simply going away. Now and then you will meet someone that is good at it and you can tell that farming is in their blood. I believe some people were just born to do certain things. My grandpa was born to be a farmer. When I was young you could find him out in the fields on his tractor or using a hoe to cultivate crops. I am not talking about a garden, I am talking about 60 acres. He worked it for the most part by himself without any help. Sometimes my dad or my uncles would help. My Granny would always be working too but that is a story for later. Grandpa usually liked to do things by himself. He loved the work he did on the farm. He would raise watermelons, cantaloupes, and cotton. Cotton was still a money crop in the late 60's and early 70's in South Carolina. When I was in the first grade I would come home from school and pick cotton for money. He paid me 3 cents a pound. :) Do you have any idea how long it takes for a 7 year old to pick a pound of cotton? It takes quite a while. I think my friend and myself were able to get $2.75 to split between us one week. That was a good week for me. :) Well, in 1968 it was pretty good.
Like I said, Grandpa would grow watermelons and cantaloupes as well. There was this 20 acre field below the highway he would plant in watermelons almost every year. Planting this type of crop near the road baffled me. People would drive by and see this and of course some would stop and steal a watermelon. High school kids were the most common culprit. It was just a temptation that proved to be too hard to resist at times. Grandpa knew every watermelon and cantaloupe that grew in his field. He knew when someone had been there even if they had left no sign. How he did this I do not know but he was never wrong about it. One year there were these high school boys that would stop in the dead of night and not only steal but vandalize his stuff. Grandpa would take a couple of boxes of shotgun shells and fill them with rock salt. Sometimes he would just leave the bird shot in them. He camped out in the middle of the field that night and waited. Sure enough the kids came back and began to steal and vandalize his stuff again. He could hear them talking about him mocking him and cussing him. They didn't know that he was out there with them. :) In our community everyone knew everyone else. So these fellas were local and were calling him by name unaware that he was right behind them. He jumped up and began firing. Now in all honesty, from the range he was shooting at, he couldn't have done much damage. He didn't want to kill them. He just wanted to teach them a lesson. He did just that! They jumped up screaming and hollering and got in their car and drove away. The town doctor in Honea Path said that he picked shot out of their backsides all night long. Even at that range he was a pretty good shot. The town police were called and he told them that it was a county matter and for them to get off of his property. They fussed a little but they did leave. It was understood in those days that a farmer would protect his livelihood with force if necessary. Grandpa never had those fellas steal his watermelons anymore. He told me this story laughing so hard that tears filled his eyes. My Grandpa was an interesting man to say the least. He passed away in the mid 1990's at the age of 90. I think about him often and smile. One reason I smile is because of a question that I have. Why did my Grandpa plant those watermelons so close to the road? ;)
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