KENT FARMS
While growing up, I worked at our family motel, mowed a dozen yards, and still found the time to work at Kent Farms with Christmas Trees.
When I was 15 my parents asked "what are you doing this summer?" They answered the question for me "you are getting a job." Uhm... Actually? A third job! But who's counting?
The spring before, I started at Kents planting christmas Trees. I was young and stupid and got mouthy with the older kids. As a result, Whitehouse (who had to be, what? 10 years older due to repeated grade failures) offered to exchange my nose with my elbow after I said something inappropriate about his mother and his birth. That was my first day on the job and was an important lesson I learned early on: some things just really aren't funny. (I am just kidding about that grade failure thing, please don't beat me up).
During the summer, I would get up early to work on the farm, then come home and mow lawns until dark, then work in the motel office and gift shop in the evening. It was a busy time for me, but I credit that experience for my incredible work ethic and lack of a work/life balance.
Planting trees was easy. Take two steps, dig a hole, drop in a sapling, smash the hole closed with a sledge, repeat. Pruning in the summer was more difficult. You needed a good top branch (called a leader) so the tree grew straight. Then you shaped the tree into a cone using a mashedy. You had to wield the razor sharp knifes without whacking the guy next to you, or yourself.
I worked at Kents with many people from our class including Jon, Kelly, Rich, and Tracey's brother (to name a few). While I hung out with many fellow workers, I remember Jon the most. I remember driving around the fields in an old military truck. Being chased out of the fields by swarms of angry bees. Kathy getting mad and going berserk - running around the field hacking apart trees. When they threw me I the pond (as a rite of passage) and I lost my glasses so someone went in the pond and found them for me. And the time we just arrived at the work site and Emery barfed all over the back of the truck.
The knifes were very sharp and could cut through anything. Including a boot! Which I found out the hard way. I swung at a low branch and the knife cut through my boot, through the nail, and cut the tip of my big toe in half! A bandage and some iodine and I was able to finish the work day.
We made sheaths for our knifes with metal so that when we drew them, they sounded like swords. And each year we developed new names for ourselves. One year, we were the henchmen.
My fondest memory is standing on Kents hill in a grove just after sunrise, watching the sun rise over the valley and the fog start to lift. That was beautiful.
I believe I worked at Kents for three years. It was a grand experience and I am very happy I had the opportunity. Kents was an incredible place to work while I was growing up.
