I wrote this kind of as a tribute to my dad. He has been dead for years, but I heard a man at our family reunion in 2008 refer to him as The Watermelon Man. That was the first time that I knew anyone called him that at all. I did, however, know that he was a great farmer as were most all the men in the community where I grew up.

 

I’m standing in the shadows of a mighty big man.
Dad you were a farmer, and I admire you for it.
You were one of the best in the land.
You have been gone for years but are still remembered by many for your huge watermelons.
You were one of the best that I knew.
You were good at growing all the things you grew.
I’m sorry but farming wasn’t for me.
Even gardening I don’t like, because it consists of hoeing, weeding and waiting.
The only part of gardening that I like is gathering in the goods.
I’m not even particularly crazy about eating the goods just gathering them in.
I didn’t like hoeing the cotton and corn or back breaking work of gathering it in.
Picking the cotton by breaking our backs or crawling around on our knees just wasn’t for me.
I admired you and others like you.
I, however, prefer construction—both of houses and of words.
I enjoyed putting the different parts together until a house became complete.
I also enjoyed putting the finishing touches on it and getting it ready for a family to move in.
It was a pleasure knowing that I had a hand in that family’s house becoming its home.
I also enjoy putting the different words together and building the parts of a story until it becomes
complete and an enjoyable piece to read.
Now, I am no longer able to work at the construction of houses, but I still enjoy building stories.
I will continue to write them as long as people continue reading them just as you continued
farming as long as you were able to farm.