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.