|One of the 4-H'ers. With calf.|
The 4-H'er is holding the halter. It's the calf who's wearing it.
He lived in an agricultural area.
Where most of the families earned their living either farming or ranching.
The training up of the next generation seemed like a good idea.
He approached the powers that be.
Then convinced the powers that be.
And the club was formed.
With eleven new members.
Calves were purchased.
Things were underway.
Then the man who had given permission decided to make a visit to his newest club.
A tour was organized for his benefit.
But on a school day.
The parents were delegated to show the official around.
Accompanied by my dad and Dad's two assistants.
It was a cold day in December.
They had visited several farms and were about to get into their vehicles after seeing one more.
The farmer, seeing that they were a bit chilled, reached behind the seat of his truck and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.
"This'll warm you a bit!"
He handed the bottle, first, to Dad.
"Thanks, but I don't drink," Dad said, passing the bottle on to the next fellow.
Who happened to be the official.
"Well, we government officials aren't allowed to drink," the man said. "But since Mark doesn't drink, I'll drink his drink."
He took a swig.
Then handed the bottle to the next man.
Finally, the bottle made its way around the little group and back to the official.
"Oh. Does Mark take two?" the man asked, taking another sip. "Well, he is a glutton, isn't he?"
Warming, memorable, educational and satisfying.
On so many levels.