Upon traveling home for my Grandpa Harvey’s funeral last
August, we heard a lot of stories and memories from various people in Grandpa’s
life. One story in particular has stuck with me, and I wanted to share it with
you to pass along his legacy.
My Grandpa was a farmer – to the core. He worked long hard
days to make sure his family was fed, his livestock was fed, and his crops were
healthy. One of the things Grandpa often
labored on was the weed control in his fields, more specifically the Leafy
Spurge control in his fields. Leafy Spurge is a quick growing, quick spreading
weed that is hard to get on top of and eliminate. It was a particular thorn in my Grandpa’s
side.
One day, Dad had dropped Grandpa off in the corner of one of
his lots with a back pack sprayer of “Spurge -o-Cide” or whatever he used to
kill Leafy Spurge, and my Grandfather walked back and forth across his acres of
land spraying this pesky weed. He spent all day walking back and forth, and I
can picture him muttering to himself, cursing the Leafy Spurge.
When my Dad went to pick him up after a 12 hour day of hand
spraying the field, the radio was on in the truck. Grandpa got in the truck and
heard the news reports of the Cold war – and forces taking over the world.
Grandpa briskly turned off the radio and said “I don’t know why they’re so damn
concerned about the Commies – Leafy Spurge is going to take over this world way
before they do!”
And that, my friends is my Grandpa’s humor. But, I have to
say Grandpa keeps me thinking about Leafy Spurge, and the unrelenting pain in
the side that it is. Whatever your issue, Leafy Spurge is a good pseudonym for
it.
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