Books for Wine

Life on a ranch in the 1950s was a world unto itself.

A place where a family could grow together, leaning on each other.

Quiet. Peaceful.

Isolated.

A place where the world seldom intruded.

Except for that . . . erm . . . exception . . .

Three brothers were growing up on their family farm.

Just down the road from a Hutterite colony.

Both settlements were rather remote.

But it’s hard to say which was the most un-worldly.

The three teen boys had comic books.

Something the Hutterite boys wanted.

The Hutterite boys had access to homemade wine.

Something the brothers wanted.

The two groups made a bargain. Comic books for wine.

The only obstacle to the conclusion of their mutual agreement was the actual . . . conclusion.

Because neither family approved.

Go figure . . .

They finally worked it out.

The brothers would leave their offering of comic books at a pre-appointed spot in a nearby field.

The Hutterite boys would retrieve said books and leave, in their place, a bottle of the colony’s finest.

This went on for some time.

To the mutual satisfaction of all parties.

Reading and drinking were continuing apace.

Then, that eye-opening event.

When the boy’s dad brought home a bottle of wine.

From the same colony--but carried in through the front door and in full sight of all who lived there.

Huh. Weird.

The boys were given a glass.

And discovered that the colony’s best they had been receiving really wasn’t.

Hmmm . . . who do you complain to when your ultra-clandestine deal goes awry?

Exactly.