14/40 - City Kid

When I was in 6th grade, I had the chance to go back to my grandparents' farm for harvest. It was my first time flying by myself and it was one of the most memorable trips I ever took.

Grandpa and I would get out into the barn early in the morning and climb up into the combine before taking it out into the fields to harvest. He made room for me in what was clearly a one man cockpit on top of the John Deere beast of a machine. We would stay out in the fields for hours and work a full day. At night we'd have dinner with Grandma and some days we'd drive the tractor pulling the trailers full of corn and soy beans to the silos in town to sell.

One night, as we were putting the machines away, Grandpa cut his hand on a piece of scrap metal. It was a big gash right across the palm of his hand. He held it out in front of him, not flinch once. I looked at his hand gushing blood and looked up into his eyes. He was locked in on my face and observing my reaction. I grabbed a couple of clean towels from the work bench and handed them too him. We cleaned up the blood and controlled the bleeding.

I later would learn that he'd told my Dad that he wasn't sure "the city kid" could handle it and was impressed with my handling of the situation.

Later that week, we were over at one of my grandparents' friends homes. As the sun was setting, we took dirt bikes out into a freshly plowed field. As I was riding one of the rows, I saw a big rock in my way and turned gingerly to get out of the way. I didn't turn hard enough and the row of dirt was too much for my bike. The bike fell over on top of me and the muffler landed on my right leg searing a solid mark on my leg. I was by myself in the field with a bike on top of me and it wasn't a good situation. But I shoved the bike off of me and walked it back to the house. No one was too concerned about me and the kids who I'd been playing with told me to get in their golf cart and help them find the piece that had fallen off the bike.

Later when we spoke to my parents, they asked about the accident and ask if it had happened in the city if it might have led to a trip to the emergency room to get checked out. My Grandpa told them it might have but the "city kid" was doing just fine.

Later in life, my Grandpa told my Dad, "I still don't know what Andy does in New York City. But, anyone who can make it in that big city for as long as Andy has is doing something right. I'm proud of him."

Not bad for a city kid.