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Thursday, 27 March 2008
(I've included lyrics to the son, "This Old House" which is mentioned in the column-Grant) Dear Dave, The last time I sent you a letter, I was full of hope for Spring and fields black and ready for planting; I now realize I was naïve and am now thankful for the personal growth that suffering through extended winter has given me. I want to start this months letter with a little anger. Food costs have gone up a bit and that combined with increased prices for corn and grain has lead some to believe that farmers are to blame for expensive cold cereal and bread. The fact is that there are just pennies worth of raw material (grain, corn) in a loaf of bread or a box of cereal and that most increases are due to transportation and the cost of fuel. What a farmer produces in the field has about as much to do with the cost of groceries as opening an umbrella has with whether it’s going to rain. Enough, I realize that I’m preaching to the choir with you, Dave, but it really is quiet silly. I really enjoyed our trip to Uncle Gilmore’s funeral. I know it sounds odd to enjoy a funeral but the chance to sit in a car with you for a few hours and talk was a real pleasure. It was nice to have Dad and Aunt Betty in the back seat; I felt like a little kid listening in when the adults talk. Dad and Betty’s conversation was full of stories and details about their siblings and our cousins that gives them extra dimension and context and actually brings life to those who have passed. Gilmore’s funeral was something I will remember for quite some time. The funeral home in Roseau was absolutely full so we had to stand but you and I got to stand with our sister, Deb and brothers Darrel and Steve-I can’t remember the last time we were together in such a way. Family members gathered Gil’s life in pictures and I was surprised to find the fat little boy riding with Gil in one black and white to be me. Gilmore led a full life so there were lots of reflective smiles mixed with the tears but some moments felt like the whole building sobbed. I know Gil liked music and at one point an older gentleman took his guitar and sang “This Old House” for those attending the service. The singer was full of emotion and it was hard for him to start but he absolutely raised the roof once he got rolling. An older voice always tells it’s owner’s story and shapes a song’s words so that both your head and your heart understand their meaning and this was no exception, I bet Gil loved it. I’d hope to have stories of early field work this letter but I guess I will exchange them for stories of muddy fields in next months letter. Hope all is well out in North Dakota and that we see each other prior to the next funeral. You’re little bro’ This Old House This ole house once knew his children
Posted by Grant Nelson at 12:16 PM CDT
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Updated: Friday, 28 March 2008 10:34 AM CDT
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