When I was about 7 or 8 years-old, my brother and I received a letter in the mail with a half a dozen or so hand drawn pictures of different adventures that were awaiting us on my new grandfather’s farm. After her divorce, my grandmother had remarried and we were to visit the coming summer and meet Dorwin Brown for the first time. These drawings were a way to introduce us to a good man who had inherited a family, including a handful of grandsons, through marriage.

The farm was all it was advertised to be—full of adventure and the source of innumerable childhood memories. That first year, and for many years afterward, our summer vacation consisted of spending a month or so on the farm learning how to work and play.

The work was unique for a few domesticated city boys: we learned to change sprinkler pipe, bail hay, gather eggs, drive a tractor, groom horses, and trap gophers–just to name a few. The farm was hard work.

The schedule was not your typical summer vacation schedule. We’d get up in what we deemed the middle of the night (5am) and begin the work of the day. After helping with my grandparents’ side job of cleaning the movie theatre, we’d begin the work on the farm. Then we’d usually go mow somebody else’s lawn or fix someone’s car.

But it wasn’t all work…Grandpa made sure we had time to play too. Whether we were tubing down the Walla Walla river, learning to drive a manual transmission, spending endless hours on the tire swing, climbing in the haystacks, or playing in a giant mud pit, the farm was a playground to us.

At grandpa’s funeral services a few weeks ago, one speaker said, “He would rather be serving than in the classroom.” And despite his aversion to formal learning, “he had knowledge” which was years beyond his 8th-grade education.

Grandpa didn’t need a classroom of brick and mortar to learn nor to impart wisdom; frankly, I don’t remember a single lesson he spoke to me. However, from the experiences he provided, I learned the value of hard work and the importance of hard play–lessons that, to this day, are ingrained in me and my brothers.

I am grateful for this: Grandpa’s actions were the lesson. And the farm was his classroom.

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Post note: As an aside, I think it is appropriate for me to recognize my other two grandfathers…Grandpa Mike (Taylor) and Grandpa Merle (Goble) who also were farmers and demonstrated the character built by working the land and finding joy in it.

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Lead Photo by Jonathan Petersson from Pexel

More memories about my grandparents…