New rule proposal: Let’s pay Congress for what they actually do

Greetings from the Ridge.

You can talk about your adventures and thrills of a lifetime all you want, but until you’ve stood knee deep in clover hay atop a barn hay mow at 110 degrees and you get blindsided by a 90-pound hay bale dropping twelve feet off the end of John Deere elevator you just haven’t lived. Some things make a lasting impression, if not on your mind then at least on the back of your head.

It was the first time I’d been involved in a full-blown labor dispute. Summertime found the kids in our neighborhood supplied with all the work we wanted as the individual hay bales were still the rule and the gigantic machine-wrapped behemoths hadn’t yet come to the farm. If you could buck a bale you were guaranteed work all the way through the last cutting of the summer’s hay. There were four of us on our little hay crew and we’d farm ourselves out to whomever needed help on any particular afternoon, but the bulk of our employment came from a guy named Jack. Jack owned his own baler and he pretty much spent the entire season in one farmer’s hayfield or another. Jack could be a genuine grouch at times but he was usually so ridiculous in his complaining that we laughed instead of quit. It was all friendly and agreeable until the day of the big salary blowup. &nbsp;&nbsp;<ahref="http://etypeservices.com/Cass%20County%20Star%20GazetteID497/"><spanstyl... 13px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">To view more, please log in or subscribe to the digital edition.</span></a></p>