I wasn’t blessed with brothers or sisters. However, I do have an uncle who is only 4 1/2 years older and I was fortunate enough to spend a lot of time with my quasi big brother. I was wild and outrageous but, Rodger made my actions appear almost tame. He was quite remarkably fearless in just about everything he did as a kid.

In a small rural area, in the northern part of New York state is a town called Hammond. Hammond is in St. Lawrence county, pretty much in the middle of nowhere and as of 2009 had a population of 298. I don’t remember how or why my family became acquainted with a diary and honey bee farmer and his son. I do know that Rodger and I spent summers there and he even lived on the farm for a while.  

When we were kids the dairy operation wasn’t fully automated and hence, many cows were still hand milked. The joy was in honing our aim at each other as we would squirt raw milk into each other’s mouth. Oh how sweet was that? Using two hands we would lug our pails of milk and pour them out into the milk cans, through the strainer. Then the real fun would begin. The milk cans would be loaded on the back of the pickup truck and taken to the processing plant. This was Rodger’s amusement park because he would get to ride down the conveyor belt when it returned the empty cans. He never let me experience that joy. I was told I was too young to have the thrill. 

It was amazing watching the border collie dog herd the cows, after they had grazed in the pasture across the road from the barn. That dog always seemed so happy working and the cows obediently followed his orders. This process happened once per day, but the milking was done every 12 hours….religiously….no exceptions.

Is there a greater joy than swinging from a rope in the hay barn and then letting go for the big drop into a hay pile? Not when you’re a child there isn’t. Driving a tractor as a boy is also a free and liberating joy few kids get to do. Of course, safety is a concern and you need to be on the alert for woodchuck holes or ruts or really anything that could tip the tractor over. I thought Rodger was going to die laughing the first time I used the manure spreader. Apparently there is an art in knowing the wind direction when spreading manure. Otherwise you are bombarded with cow pies to the back of the head as you are trying hopelessly to duck and drive, all at the same time.

The honeybee hives fascinated me to no end. These tiny creatures, along with the honey cones and honey are simply a marvel to behold. My initial encounter with a honeybee was traumatic. I watched with boyhood curiosity as the bee landed on a flower. “Yes, I’ve got you now,” I said as I grabbed the bee in my hands. Well, it didn’t take long before I got stung. Ouch! I ran as fast as I could and reached for the wire fence…double ouch….the fence was electrified. Holy cow, no pun intended, did I ever get two zaps that day.

These two farmers, dad and his son, lived in near poverty conditions. The father died several years ago and the son passed away just a couple of years ago. In a shocking and yet quietly subtle way, the son left $3 million to the local volunteer fire department. We were completely stunned.

Rodger and I have a lifetime of childhood memories we share. To this day, I miss the smell of hay and yes, even manure, I just don’t want to get hit in the head with it.