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.
