The Journey Continues

The journey continues ...

There we were, on our little 3 acre patch of heaven in Lucas, TX when I got a voice message from my dad (then, 85 years old).  He had passed out behind the wheel and drove his car into the wall of his garage.  And, that changed our life.  

We took Dad to the hospital and it turned out that he had major blood loss due to a bleeding ulcer and needed to undergo surgery.  That surgery stopped the bleeding but had also led to other complications that resulted in a three month hospital stay.  Dad hadn't been in a hospital since he broke his leg 40 years prior and only went to the doctor for yearly check-ups since.  Being in a hospital was like foreign territory for Dad so, I basically lived in the hospital with my dad for the duration of his 3 month stay.  There we spent a lot of time just sitting in a small room together in between visits from the nurses and doctors but I really had no clue how to pass the time with him, otherwise.  So, what did I do?  Well, I simply started talking about the most prevalent thing in my life at the time: farming!  I knew Dad had a farm in Cuba (pre-Castro) but, almost 4 decades had passed since that time so he didn't talk about it much. He knew I had acquired some farm animals when I moved to the more rural area of Lucas (8 years prior) but he never really grasped the depth of my transformation into a "farmer" until I shared the multitude of my stories with him every day in the hospital.  I talked about the many things I was learning about farming and homesteading and about the animals I was raising and my fantasies of being able to add cattle to the farm.  Dad was especially interested in my desire for cattle since he was a very experienced horseman in his day and even led many cattle drives across Cuba to the airport where the cattle were loaded onto planes as they were sold to markets in the USA.  Dad suggested I add cattle to the farm but I explained to Dad that my acreage was not big enough and besides, the type of cattle I wanted to raise was one that was considered an exotic breed at the time and not one considered to be practical for farming.  

Day after day we talked about farming but Dad kept going back to the conversation about cattle.  He wanted to know what kind I liked but I didn't know how to describe them so I showed him a picture of the breed on my laptop and he said: "those are the cattle I raised in Cuba!" - and, that started it all.  Dad was on fire - he talked all about Cuba and his farm and told me about all the animals he raised and all the farming ventures he had experienced long before I was even born.  He broadened my understanding about the cattle I liked and explained that not only were they not an exotic breed in Cuba but they were actually the main cattle everyone kept.  He said they were actually very practical (especially in a hot climate like Texas since they like the heat) and very well suited for beef production and that is when he taught me a very common phrase in Cuba; "sin Zebu, no hay carne." which means without Zebu (the breed of cattle I desired), there was no beef.  It was enlightening for both of us and it made our three month hospital very enjoyable for both of us.  

In the hospital, the doctors were concerned about Dad going back to his solitude once he was released so, we resolved that Dad would come live with us after his discharge.  And, that made for major changes on the home front - my husband led the conversion of our garage to a 700 s.f. studio apartment for Dad while I continued to stay by Dad's side in the hospital.  Luckily our garage conversion was in its final stages when Dad was finally released from the hospital with kidney failure.  We were out of the hospital but now committed to dialysis treatment - this was very hard on Dad's aging body and he hated the strain it put on us having to be there at 5:30 AM three times a week.  There were many times in those months that I wondered if Dad would make it.  But, Dad wanted to live!  He was now on the farm with me and since we installed a huge 3' x 5' picture window in the living area of his little studio apartment he saw the farm first hand, on a daily basis.  And, he loved it - he didn't want to die - it was all too exciting for him.  So, the next time we went to dialysis, Dad refused treatment and asked to see the doctor.  I backed the doctor's cautioning that stopping dialysis could lead to his death but Dad was sure his kidneys would come back and he was willing to bet his life on it.  So, the next week the doctor took the catheter out that allowed Dad to receive treatment and we waited and prayed.  The second week, the doctor reported Dad's kidneys were coming back and by week three, they were fully functional.  Sure enough, Dad was going to live!  And, how was he going to live?  ... with cattle.  The first thing Dad wanted to do now that he had a new lease on life was buy the cattle - not just any cattle, but, the cattle I dreamed of and the cattle he had in Cuba: Zebu (or Cebu in Spanish) cattle.

"But, Dad, I told you, I don't have enough acreage to sustain cattle on this little farm," I said.  However, Dad was determined - he wanted to give me his "life savings" so I could buy a "real" farm (as he put it) and have cattle.  I was very concerned about this - his "life savings" - oh my, I couldn't deal with that.  I loved my Dad dearly and never thought about inheriting anything from him.  Besides, I had never known Dad to have anything to give - he was always a pauper in America - just scraping by since all his wealth was lost in the dissolution of his family after they found refuge in America.  But, Dad insisted - not only did he insist but, it became daily conversation to the extent that I could not be in his presence without him mentioning it.  So, I told my husband what I was being faced with and he suggested that we should at least consider what Dad was talking about.  The next time I saw Dad, I asked him how he wanted to achieve this goal of acquiring a "real" farm and he pulled out papers from a life insurance policy he had bought years ago (one of those that old people tend to buy - I think they call it term life or whole life - something like that) and said he wanted to sell it so we could buy a "real" farm.  I looked at the policy, and the amount it was worth couldn't even buy an acre of land at the current market in our area.  Whew, I was relieved!  It meant I wasn't going to go through anything crazy like a wind-fall and that Dad was merely excited and simply lost track of inflation and/or maybe he was experiencing a little bit of senility.  Despite my relief, at the same time, I was sad - how was I going to break the bad news to Dad?  Dad meant the world to me and I knew he pushed through a three month hospital stay and beat the odds of death by kidney failure to realize my dream of owning cattle which, vicariously, became his dream - I was not looking forward to letting Dad down. After sharing my melancholy over the whole situation with my husband, he said, "why let him down?"  He then went on to suggest we accept the gift and use it as a down-payment then carry a second mortgage on a piece of property much father out which would be more affordable thus allowing us to acquire a parcel large enough to sustain cattle and would merit Dad considering it a "real" farm.  Whoa, that was a lot to consider as I had already jumped from city girl to, suburbanite, to rural living with new found homesteading principals.  Now, I was faced with considering yet another jump - this jump would make us "real" farmers and would strip my current label of "Highfalutin Hick" (given to me by my brother).  We weren't talking Green Acres farming anymore - we were now talking Ma and Pa Kettle existence!  And, that was the scariest thing this city girl envisioned yet but, I did not want to break Dad's heart.  So, the week of my 40th birthday, we closed on a 42 acre property in Commerce, TX and let Dad believe that he had bought us a "real farm" and that is where we now live and farm. 

Dad has since passed on but his ashes will remain here forever and are buried under a memorial garden located outside his old bedroom window on the farm.  We came here because Dad wanted to once again live, then die on a farm.  He had a farm in his glory days in Cuba and he wanted nothing more than to be back on a farm after coming to America.  The move took a toll on the whole family and, as I stated in the beginning of this narrative, changed our lives, but, in the end, we are all left with smiles knowing that Dad's wish came true.  We established Green Family Farm in the beginning but, we now affectionately also call our farm The Forever Farm (a.k.a. Yoyo's Forever Farm - Yoyo was my dad's nickname in Cuba) in memory of Dad.  Being two city kids, we never could relate to other people's drive, passion and excitement about a farm but, through the years, we have caught on and have also been able to witness it, not only from Dad, but from many visitors and family members alike who have come to love the farm.  So, we strive to be open and transparent and share our experiences on the farm as much, and as long, as we can - hopefully "forever". 

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