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True Stories of an Irish Upbringing and Other
lies by Dan Daneen
Price $ 17.00>> 
 Uncle
Joe’s Farm
My mother’s sister’s husband had a farm. In fact,
he was more than just a farmer. He was also a farm
contractor who rented his equipment and his people by
the day to those who were in need of help. During the summer
holidays from school, I usually worked for him as an operator.
This meant I was supposed to know how to operate some of his
equipment and I was on the roster of hands who could work
without too much supervision. His farm had a dairy herd of about
eighty cows and two bulls to supply the cows’ needs. He had a
couple of cart horses and the usual collection of pigs, chickens,
etc. The summer work force consisted of ten men but it went
up periodically based on the work at hand and the weather. Most
things in Ireland revolve around the weather as life is lived
between rain showers, during showers, before showers and after
showers. On looking back, one of the most wonderful memories
of Irish farms was the smell. The smell was always of everything
wet - wet grass, wet ground, wet houses and we even went to
sleep in wet beds.
The dampness got into everything, but it became very much a part
of our life. We took it for granted and we seldom noticed it. We
learned to live and work wet. Looking back it is amazing that we
were able to disregard what is today considered such a major discomfort.
When we got up in the morning, we got dressed into damp clothes.
We had our breakfasts sitting on damp chairs. We lived with damp
walls where often the damp even grew mould...
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