BOOMER TIMING? THE ‘BETTER LIFE’ CLOCK STARTS NOW

Boomer timIng started the moment mom and dad decided on a better life for themselves.

“The kids will have a better life because of us,” weren’t their exact words.

Some of our parents grew up in rural life, out of town.

For them, living in town was a better life.

Recently I spoke with a woman who said she knew all about farm life.

In Connecticut. So I gave an example of NW rural farm life left behind.

A boy growing up in the 1930’s and 40’s moved with his family from a company town, a logging town, to a few acres down the road.

Nothing unusual about logging towns in the Northwest. Logging town, mill towns, one even called Mill City.

The dad in the family decided he’d be a better farmer than logger, and he was right.

With kids and his wife, he carved out a living. His timing was good.

The wife planted a lush garden every year and canned vegetables until she planted the next garden.

The man grew hay and raised cows and pigs and chickens.

Was it an easy life of a gentleman farmer, or a hard life of subsistence living? The boy growing up in the 30’s and 40’s didn’t know anything different.

And neither did anyone else.

After moving away from the logging town, the dad returned to sell residents beef and pork.

At some time there was food rationing coupons issued by the government. The dad knew about it and didn’t care because he was that kind of man. A ‘don’t tell me what to do’ kind of man.

But a government agent told him what to do, which was stop selling beef and pork to the residents of his former town. He was interfering with the war effort.

Early Entrepreneurship For A Better Life = Moonshine

To show he was a law abiding citizen, the dad stopped selling pork and beef.

What the government man didn’t know was selling pork and beef was just part of the farmer’s business.

The dad was a farmer and a moonshiner. Moonshine was the money-maker.

While complying with the no-sale law, the dad did the unexpected. He showed up in town and gave away beef and pork. With a side of ‘shine.

There was no law against giving it away.

That was the front for his real business.

Southwest Washington geography — with thick forests and easy access to water — lent itself well to illicit liquor distillation.

“When they got out into the woods, they would run a hose from a nearby creek for their operation, build a fire and distill their product right there,” Koehler said. “Then they’d take the end product and haul it back out so they could sell it.”

I didn’t mention the location to the Connecticut lady. She was probably thinking Kentucky or Tennessee or West Virginia.

I continued with,

The Rest Of The Story

The farmer liked to dip into his moonshine on the big day, Slaughter Day, when the pigs turned into pork.

In the barn, with his kids holding a huge pig with ropes on either side, their dad would strap on his hog-leg, a pistol, and practice his quick draw.

The pig didn’t flinch.

Eventually the farmer cranked off a round intended to drop the pig. Then they would stuff it into a barrel and heat it enough to skin it.

This time a little too much moonshine changed his aim and he fired a shot that glanced off the the pig’s head.

The pig reared up and the dad screamed at his kids to hold on.

Crazed with pain, the pig ran through the barn wall with a pig pen on the opposite side.

“DON’T LET GO.”

The pig drug the kids through the pig shit, crashed through the pen, and headed for the garden their mom had planted.

Their dad ran after them with his gun in hand.

“DON’T LET GO.”

After trashing the garden, the pig slowed down enough for the farmer to deliver a kill shot.

Gentleman Farmer Or Boomer Timing For A Better Life

The Connecticut lady who knew all about farm life had never heard such a story.

“In what part of Appalachia did this happen?”

“Not Appalachia, the Apple State.”

“Where is that?”

“It’s the state of Microsoft, Boeing, and Amazon. Washington, right over the river.”

My dad told the story but didn’t say who the farmer was. Later, I found out it was my Grandpa.

That was the life he wanted to improve. Perfect boomer timing brought the rest of us into the picture.

It was a picture without the quick draw, the pig pen, or the moonshine.

His roots were different than mine and I’m not sure which is better.

Our boomer timing was a gift from out parents.

How is working out for you?