You will find The humble Farmer to be a man for all seasons
Trying to Save
Last November I went into Gramp Wiley's trailer and said, "Gramp, I'm not sending out any Christmas cards this year. Cards cost wicked now and the postage is right out of sight. I just can't afford it."
Gramp Wiley pounded the arm of his rocker. "Saving on Christmas messages is nothing new," he snorted. "Andy Wyeth has been doing it for years."
Now, every day in the summer Andy Wyeth loads a couple of dogs in his car over in Cushing, drives up to Thomaston, and then goes right by my house here in St. George on his way to Port Clyde where he works in his father's old studio. And he's driving a gold plated Stutz with musical horns. So I didn't figure he could be much of a scrimper and saver, and I said so.
My old neighbor leaned back in his rocker, closed his eyes and spoke like the Ghost of Christmas Past. "Forty or so years ago Andy pounded at my back door and asked if I'd give him a hand. You know how he's always driving around back roads looking for things to paint. Well, he'd gone across a soft spot out in my field and sunk right out of sight.
"It was pouring rain and he was soaked to the skin, so I got him over against the stove and made some hot coffee. Andy decided he could get along without his car for a day, so I gave him a ride back over to Cushing.
"The next day he came over and we pulled him out with my old truck. It was no trouble, but Andy was grateful --- every Christmas since then he's sent me a card."
I said, "But that doesn't sound like Andy's trying to save."
"He's trying to save," Gramp shouted. "Anybody else with his amount of money would buy me a nice Hallmark card, but all I get from him are these homemade things he paints himself."
I'm Robert Skoglund, thanks for being with me.