A Good Man is Hard to Find
Recently we had the opportunity to work with Frank Hawk, a friend from my youth. He began helping us last spring. How he spent his time was varied.
He built terraces.
Ran Tile.
Tagged calves and healed the sick.
Worked Cows.
Moved Cows.
Oversaw the repair of a dozer.
Repaired a tile machine.
Saw more repairs on a recently repaired dozer.
Organized hipsters.
Coordinated relief efforts of the Great Bevington Flood.
Talked shit.
Reported thefts.
And through it all, he made something rusty shine,
and he made a new friend.
Personally, I’ll miss him.
True Stories and Tall Tales 