In the best of company

"Oh, come on, John, you'll really enjoy yourself," my friend Mark pleaded. "Besides Dad has some questions he wants to ask you."

Finally I relented and agreed to leave at 6:00 AM and ride 60 miles to Dubois County, Indiana. Some months ago I had accompanied my friend to see his dad and in the course of conversation helped him arrange his computer desktop and filing system to better manage his Ebay business. Since then we've talked of switching him to a database program to post and track his online inventory. This gentleman is worthy of a post all by himself. Widowed and in his mid 80's he is by his own account a semi-retired CPA, meaning he only works during tax season. He maneuvers about with the aid of a walker and works like a fool on his second career as an Ebay merchant. He has the rare ability to distinguish at a glance things of value and things that will sell and the two not the same. "Nothing we have on our site is worth anything," he avows. But it does sell. He has 600 items on Ebay and as he said not worth anything. He traffics in old train schedules for the nostalgic, odd pieces of glass or porcelain that are not antiques but merely eye catching, unique, and rare. Each of the 600 items has a brief description and usually a photograph which must be posted online. Orders must be packed and delivered to the post office. He keeps a lot on his plate! Not technically challenged in the least he knows his way around Windows 8.1.

We met him at his home. Mark had brought him a 32 inch smart TV to serve as a monitor for his laptop which could be switched to watch Netflix movies when times were slow. We set that up for him in about 30 minutes and he drove us to our intended destination, a conspicuously prosperous looking corn farm. All farms in Dubois County look conspicuously prosperous. Until World War I the county was almost completely German speaking, settled by a sturdy no nonsense population that knew the biblical admonition " By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground," was not mere speculation. It produced a way of life that produced some very real temporal rewards.

The, by invitation only, strictly stag, affair had but one purpose, to make turnip slaw. Something about the German temperament does not lend itself to multi-tasking when there is serious work to be done. That does not mean that the 20 or so assembled gentlemen, most of them in their 80's, took themselves seriously, just that they kept working while they talked. The owner of the farm introduced himself and told me he was glad that I could make. I of course thanked him for the invitation and complemented on his nice spread. This gentleman was all grace! He thanked me and added he was pretty proud of his place. He knew that I knew that his prosperous farm was the result of a lifetime of hard work.

With pleasantries exchanged we got to work. Mark, his dad and I were relegated to an entry level position along with half a dozen others. We peeled the turnips. I didn't know the entire country produced that many turnips in a single year. The turnips were then shredded and mixed with white vinegar, water, sugar, and horseradish to produce what Dubois County considers gourmet fare. It is good and I have a gallon of it in my refrigerator. I could have taken 5 gallons without raising an eyebrow as we churned out a huge production. The talk was small and topical, ranging from vision problems to the price of beef. When one gentleman asked if everyone was pleased how the elections turned out it elicited a unanimous"yes". After the work was done we adjourned to another area of the huge pole barn for dinner. The sauerkraut didn't surprise me. It was the best I have ever eaten. It was cooked with copious pork ribs and neck bones, I think.

I'm glad I decided to make the party. It was a part of Americana few will see or even care to see, just happy, hardworking men doing what they do best-work. Men who faced life and carried away a piece of the American dream for themselves and their families and in the twilight of their lives have few regrets.