This losing an hour crap is kicking my ass. Why do I have to get up an hour early? Is it because of farming or some such shit like that?
I don't even know any farmers! Except my Sicilian grandfather, may he rest in peace.
He was an olive and almond farmer in Pietraperzia, Sicily until 1955, when he decided to move his family (and my mom)to the land of plenty.
Talk about a culture shock! Nonno no longer had acres of land to cultivate.
What he DID have was was an extra lot next to his house in Malden, MA. He used every inch of it. He grew tomatoes, corn, zucchini, cucumbers, pumpkins, swiss chard, garlic, carrots, radishes, basil, parsely, mint, and God knows what else.
We also had alot of fruit trees: pear, cherry (two), peach (two), plum, apricot and a fig tree. The fig tree died about 35 years ago and I swear my uncle still talks about it.
And from April to October, from dawn to dusk, that's where you'd find him. Urging seeds into seedlings, constructing green houses, and gardening.
If he found YOU, you'd find yourself weeding, or picking some of the 10 million cucumbers he grew or whatever he told you to do. If you did your jobs well, he'd give you a warm cucumber from the garden.
The thing is, we had HUNDREDS of cucumbers in the fridge, and I really don't dig warm ones. I never told him that though.
The BIG trip of the year was going to Richardson's Dairy Farm to get the annual supply of cow manure. Any grandkids that went with him got ice cream. Man we loved to tag along, even though that whole place smelled like manure and that smell seemsed to permeate into the ice cream.
Fresh air, fresh pesticide-free food and good exercise. I guess it's no wonder he lived to 94 years old.
He worked the land until he was 92 years old and broke his hip.
Can you die from a broken hip? Maybe. If the broken hip prevents you from going outside to your love. The Land. La Terra. I think the broken hip lead to a broken heart.
What does Nonno have to do with poker? you ask. I mean this IS a poker blog.
Well Nonno had these little Italian playing cards and even though he had 10 grandchildren - it was always him and me playing for pennies.
Running home with a pocketful of pennies! Good times!
Oh, and I ALWAYS won back then.
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