Walter’s Kindness

My father was a farmer. He stopped farming when I was around 7 or 8 and took a job. Our farm was connected by a rough road to all the bordering farms’ fields. It was there because farmers had non-contiguous fields and needed access.

We were sitting in the kitchen having dinner when Floyd showed up at our door. He was distraught with “hat in hand.” He explained that his family was having a hard time and that they ran out of hay and couldn’t afford buying any.

Our farm was 56 acres mostly, at that time, open fields. Floyd asked if he could cut about 10 fields for hay. My dad shook his head, paused, and said “Sure, we’re not using them.” Floyd—stunned and surprised—immediately reached in his pocket and tried to hand all the money he had, to my dad. My dad got up and said “Put that away. You need some help.” Then he said, “Why don’t you just cut all the fields and put away the hay. As a matter of fact, why don’t you just cut the fields every year, then you won’t have this worry again?” My dad understood hard times but his action didn’t come from that alone. It was his compassion in full view. I was never so proud of him.