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| Credit to Dennis D. Hammon Photography |
“An epiphany moving sprinkler pipe: a peek into my future”
I thought at a younger age,
say 4th grade, I could be
the president of the United States.
I didn’t really know
how to be one,
just thought I could
if I read the brown covered biographies
of all the presidents, did what they did.
I liked them all—
Washington, Adams, Jefferson,
Jackson, and especially Lincoln.
It didn’t take long to discover
I decided I didn’t have
the right pedigree
or money or even a degree
at one of the Ivy Leagues.
I didn’t even get elected
president of any club
although I tried.
I was just a regular Joe
at rural schools,
and the dream slithered
into a field of famous potatoes.
One day moving sprinkler pipe
in wet potato lines,
something within me changed,
propelled me to think
about the future, my future.
I stood on a rocky ridge
overlooking a pond
full of frogs and polly wogs,
my chaps and face caked
with mud and surrounded
by acres and acres of russets.
At that very moment,
I decided I best become
a college student someday,
make something of myself,
maybe do something grand.
It was the mud, the pesky mosquitoes,
dirty hands, the heat,
the disheveled hair under a ball cap,
and a 33-foot, 4” sprinkler pipe
at my feet that convinced me
there was something better that,
perhaps, I could do something
beyond my ruralness, something
beyond that hill full of rocks
and weeds and pond full of frogs
and that long sprinkler pipe
full of silt and water.
I thought at a younger age,
say 4th grade, I could be
the president of the United States.
I didn’t really know
how to be one,
just thought I could
if I read the brown covered biographies
of all the presidents, did what they did.
I liked them all—
Washington, Adams, Jefferson,
Jackson, and especially Lincoln.
It didn’t take long to discover
I decided I didn’t have
the right pedigree
or money or even a degree
at one of the Ivy Leagues.
I didn’t even get elected
president of any club
although I tried.
I was just a regular Joe
at rural schools,
and the dream slithered
into a field of famous potatoes.
One day moving sprinkler pipe
in wet potato lines,
something within me changed,
propelled me to think
about the future, my future.
I stood on a rocky ridge
overlooking a pond
full of frogs and polly wogs,
my chaps and face caked
with mud and surrounded
by acres and acres of russets.
At that very moment,
I decided I best become
a college student someday,
make something of myself,
maybe do something grand.
It was the mud, the pesky mosquitoes,
dirty hands, the heat,
the disheveled hair under a ball cap,
and a 33-foot, 4” sprinkler pipe
at my feet that convinced me
there was something better that,
perhaps, I could do something
beyond my ruralness, something
beyond that hill full of rocks
and weeds and pond full of frogs
and that long sprinkler pipe
full of silt and water.
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| Credit to Dennis D. Hammon Photography |
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