MichiganDude
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Nov 21, 2009
- Messages
- 50
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- 22
So, check it out....I'm kind of a creation of two different worlds. My father was a hillbilly from the hills in the south, where my family still has a 1000+ acre farm. My mom is from the north. I spent a lot of summers in the south, where I was basically known as that yankee boy.
My old man was pretty much a roamer...sometimes he lived in the north, sometimes down south. When he was younger, him and his brothers ran a pretty profitable still, until it was busted up. Later, in the 70's, he used some of the more remote sections of the family farm to grow MJ. He did pretty good at it too...I mean, he WAS a farmers kid. He later told me that he grew for about 5 or 6 years...he would grow it and cure it there, drive it up north and sell it there, and make enough to live modestly for the next year. That is until one fall his entire crop was ripped off just a couple weeks before harvest. That was the last year he grew for profit.
I guess it was like 1980 or so that I went to the stay with him one summer in a nearby city. My mom was having issues with my wildness, so she figured my old man could take care of me. I always hated hanging out at the family farm, or staying with my old man. Usually, if it was my grandma's farm, I ended up chopping wood all day for the winter, or picking potatoes from the "garden", which was a big *** field, or weeding and stuff.
Anyway, that summer, my old man tells me I'm in charge of his garden outback. Now, remember, this is in the middle of a big *** city in the midwest. He had turned the backyard into a huge garden...corn, tomatoes, beans, etc. In the rows of corn, he had mixed in MJ planst. It was a great set up...invisible from the road or neighbors. Near the end of that summer, he had me taking all the loose leave I would collect each day, and do a slow dry, and then roll all that loose leaf into joints. Suffice it to say, to this damn I can roll one hell of a fattie. The leaf joints weren't the best tasting, but it was free weed, and he really didn't miss the ones I took back home with me in the fall. It took months to smoke all the shake I took back home!
Unfortunately, me and my old man weren't real close. Now that I'm older, and he's passed on, I wish I was, for a lot of reasons. In the last 20 years of his life, I think I saw him twice. But one of the last times I did see him was the best time I ever had with him. I had just gotten married, and we went to visit him on the farm. I had bought what I thought was some dynamite sensi with me, and he and I shared a fat j of that. Then he goes to his stash...the stuff he grew for himself. He had big bags of this stuff, 2 or 3 kinds according to him. He rolls up a couple fatties, and we sat and shot the **** for hours smoking the best weed I ever had up until I went to Amsterdam. It was amazing.
Sadly, my old man passed away a few years back. I cried like a baby for weeks...any guy who's lost his dad knows what I mean. Even though he was a grade school drop out and a farmers kid from the holler, and I'm a high level exec in a Fortune 50 company, the longer I live, the more I see we have in common, and I'm damn proud of that fact!
I know, this is a little off topic, but hell, this IS he coffee table section, yeah?
My old man was pretty much a roamer...sometimes he lived in the north, sometimes down south. When he was younger, him and his brothers ran a pretty profitable still, until it was busted up. Later, in the 70's, he used some of the more remote sections of the family farm to grow MJ. He did pretty good at it too...I mean, he WAS a farmers kid. He later told me that he grew for about 5 or 6 years...he would grow it and cure it there, drive it up north and sell it there, and make enough to live modestly for the next year. That is until one fall his entire crop was ripped off just a couple weeks before harvest. That was the last year he grew for profit.
I guess it was like 1980 or so that I went to the stay with him one summer in a nearby city. My mom was having issues with my wildness, so she figured my old man could take care of me. I always hated hanging out at the family farm, or staying with my old man. Usually, if it was my grandma's farm, I ended up chopping wood all day for the winter, or picking potatoes from the "garden", which was a big *** field, or weeding and stuff.
Anyway, that summer, my old man tells me I'm in charge of his garden outback. Now, remember, this is in the middle of a big *** city in the midwest. He had turned the backyard into a huge garden...corn, tomatoes, beans, etc. In the rows of corn, he had mixed in MJ planst. It was a great set up...invisible from the road or neighbors. Near the end of that summer, he had me taking all the loose leave I would collect each day, and do a slow dry, and then roll all that loose leaf into joints. Suffice it to say, to this damn I can roll one hell of a fattie. The leaf joints weren't the best tasting, but it was free weed, and he really didn't miss the ones I took back home with me in the fall. It took months to smoke all the shake I took back home!
Unfortunately, me and my old man weren't real close. Now that I'm older, and he's passed on, I wish I was, for a lot of reasons. In the last 20 years of his life, I think I saw him twice. But one of the last times I did see him was the best time I ever had with him. I had just gotten married, and we went to visit him on the farm. I had bought what I thought was some dynamite sensi with me, and he and I shared a fat j of that. Then he goes to his stash...the stuff he grew for himself. He had big bags of this stuff, 2 or 3 kinds according to him. He rolls up a couple fatties, and we sat and shot the **** for hours smoking the best weed I ever had up until I went to Amsterdam. It was amazing.
Sadly, my old man passed away a few years back. I cried like a baby for weeks...any guy who's lost his dad knows what I mean. Even though he was a grade school drop out and a farmers kid from the holler, and I'm a high level exec in a Fortune 50 company, the longer I live, the more I see we have in common, and I'm damn proud of that fact!
I know, this is a little off topic, but hell, this IS he coffee table section, yeah?
