This time of year reminds me of my young days fixing fence. We never bought
new posts and wire. Wouldn’t meet the farm expense.
The worn and rusty, course barbed wire would break with every bend. So, we
stitched the wire right from the start until the very end.
I mustered up the courage. Said, “It’s time to buy new fence. ‘Cuz patching up
the posts and wire don’t make a lick of sense.”
My father always heard me. He gave credence to what I’d say. But never did I
dream he’d buy new fencing on that day.
Next morning, I heard dad yell, “No more lazy, light a fire!” He was driving the
Cornbinder, loaded down with posts and wire.
He said, “We’ve got some work to do up by the north end gate. But I’ll be away in
town, so keep the fences nice and straight.”
My dad was kinda fussy. Said, “A fence should be in line. And any fence that’s off
the mark sure ain’t no fence of mine.”
Back then we had no auger that would drill a fence post hole. You used a bar and
shovel, kept your cussing in control.
That day I dug near twenty posts but fenced in all my brag. ‘Cuz eyeing down the
fence line looked a little like zigzag.
Well sure enough my father raised his eyebrows in surprise. He said, “Your posts
are out of whack. We better check your eyes.”
And then the twenty posts were pulled. It sure nuff hurt my pride. But my father
helped replant ‘em. He was right there by my side.
With concern he said, “Please understand a fence defines a man. A crooked fence
shows you’re the man who lives without a plan.”
So, the good eye doctor said, “I think you’ll see much better now. You’ll keep
your fences straight and no more raising dad’s eyebrow.”