Spraying weed killer kills more than weeds. It prevents rewarding relationships. No kidding! My parents had 14 kids. At least 5 of us hit the corn field at the same time. We each had our favorite hoe newly sharpened. We spread out, chopping weeds as we made our way to the opposite end.
Canada thistles were enemy number one. One thistle plant allowed to go to seed would surely multiply our work next year.
We knew each other better than our parents knew us. We shared thoughts we’d never share with them. My youngest sister planned to exceed the beauty of Veronica Lake, hair covering one eye. My older sister had a crush on Mervin Dishong. He was the star player in the Pep Band. His mastery of the tuba drew the attention of many young ladies. We made a pact that none of us would tell Mom. Funny stories and laughter made the mindless work fly by rapidly.
Fighter planes from a nearby base practiced mock strafing maneuvers. The planes were so low we could exchange greeting with the young pilots. My sisters were especially overjoyed by the encounters.
I’d be fibbing if I told you we were all work and no play. We were experts at mixing work and play. When my father frowned on, it my oldest brother would recite all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Over the years of family get-togethers, stories of our weed killing team brought laughter. The large family has dwindled and the hoes have been auctioned off. Family gatherings have ceased, but our weed control team is intimately present in my mind.
My neighbor spied a weed in my lawn. He suggested I might buy 2-4-D at Ace Hardware. He would spray. Memories of our weed control team were too sharp. I thanked him for his offer but declined his kindness. Memories of my trusty hoe overruled.