Inspiration for the Young at Heart
Jean Brody
Real generosity is doing something nice for someone who will never find out.
We were in for a whole new way of life when, in July of 1990, we retired and moved from an oceanfront condo on the island of Key Biscayne, Florida, to a horse farm in Winchester, Kentucky, with a pre-Civil War home. One of the best parts of the move was getting to know the people in this small community. Even before we left Florida we had a preview of the friendliness of the residents and their willingness to help even strangers like us. "Your lower field is flooded," was the first long-distance call we received in Florida from the former owner of the farm. The second call came three days later and it held a hint of hysteria. "Now your fences are down. This is the worst flood I have ever seen in Winchester."
So we knew about the damage before we moved, but we didn't figure on how much it would bother us once we arrived. Every time we went to town we passed those pathetic fences lying face down and covered with the silt washed in by the raging waters in June. The trouble was we didn't own a tractor and, frankly, were shocked at the price to buy one. We stewed every day as it began to sink in that we knew very little about farm living and taking care of many acres of land.
One day, our neighbor said, "You know, I need to rotate my cattle. Reckon if I use my tractor and mend your fence, could I use your lower fields?" Talk about gifts from heaven! But it seemed like the best kind of gift—we needed him and he needed us. So, he mended our fences and moved his cattle onto our fields. Not only were our fences fixed, but his cattle kept the field neat and clean and we didn't have to wince every time we passed by. It also gave us time to inspect our other fields. We found more fences down, gates bent under the weight of silt, and more need for a tractor and a Bush Hog.
Our neighbor brought his tractor and tools and mended the fences on our other fields and he re-hung the gates too. And the day came when we opened one gate and then another and herded his cattle onto our next fields. "Isn't it wonderful how we need each other and can each supply the needs of the other?" I said to my husband. We smiled, not believing our good fortune. And we thought, "Gosh, I wonder what he would've done for new fields if we hadn't been here with ours? I mean, we could've bought a tractor and Bush Hog and tried to do all that work ourselves, but he couldn't buy new acres of grazing land so easily." It felt good, this thought.
One night our neighbor asked my husband, "Want to ride with me to check on my farm and my cattle?" So my husband did and when he came home he walked in, scratched his head, smiled and said, "Do you know what? He didn't need our fields at all. He has 150 acres not even being used!" I went to sleep that night thinking about the kindness in our new community and how our new neighbor found a way to help us by claiming he needed us.
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