Spending Father's Day With Dad

I drove over on Saturday afternoon and spent the night. Martha and I went to church with Dad this morning. I cooked a big lunch for us all. It was a good visit.

Today, he told me a funny story about when he was a little boy and they were all hoeing cotton. He's such a good story teller -- even if he repeats himself too much these days -- the scene is set in a "round field on the Little Missouri River (Arkansas). That was some good land for cotton." -- I picture a field where the rows followed a curve in the river; what do you think?

Seeing planes was still a novelty. Dad said he'd seen pictures of them though. They were all hoeing cotton in this particular field and a plane flew over. He said he didn't really see it, but wouldn't have let on to his brothers for anything that he hadn't. Along with all of them (I'm assuming he was referring to his brothers), there was an old woman named Mattie and her son, Matt, who were share croppers. My dad's dad (I called him "Big Daddy") would hire Matt & Mattie to help out when he needed extra hands.

They were all speculating on why this plane would be flying way out there over the Ozarks of Arkansas. Someone conjectured that it was probably a mail plane. The old lady with her rheumy eyes had seen the plane with its fixed wings and wheels. She piped up, "Yeah, it's a male plane. I know it was 'cause I saw his bags hanging down when he flew over."