One cold morning a few months back the dogs were barking behind the house.I slung on my old barn jacket and trudged out to see what the excitement was all about: nothing, as expected. On the way back I couldn’t help smiling about the condition of the jacket.
It was made by Dickies, a brand similar to Carhartt. Originally a classic rust orange it is now faded to a light tan. The front is spattered with stains from butchering chickens in cold weather, delivering calves in the muck and rust stains from carrying damp mineral blocks to the cattle. Both sleeves are frayed from stringing barbed wire. Ten years of sweat, manure of all varieties and wet canvas give off a funk when in close contact regardless of how recently washed.
Get a new one? Possibly, but this one has a pedigree. Imagining going to the farmer’s co-op in a brand new jacket is to imagine the kid at a brand new school. “Newbie”, they would shout!
This jacket proclaims experience even if not deserved. It says sartorially: “Boy, with the price of fertilizer it’s getting so a farmer should pay for the privilege” or “give me a ton of hog meal, five mineral blocks and a couple of bags of layer pellets”. All tossed off without effort. But, a new jacket and I might come back from the co-op with a dozen frizzy-legged Cochin chickens or, God forbid, a mailbox that reads “See Rock City”!
