After the picnic, my father took me and my sisters on a bit of an adventure. Since Riverside Park sat adjacent to Riverside Cemetery, we scaled the fence separating the two with a distinct objective: to visit the final resting place of John Deere.
Being from the nearby small industrial community of Galesburg, it was virtually impossible to not have been aware of the distinctive green and yellow tractors that lumbered through the surrounding corn fields each year. Besides, I recollect playing on one of these:
My father came from a long line of farmers, although he was not a farmer himself. Grandpa Moore was a trucker but was raised farming. It was clear then that visiting his grave was important to my father and that he wanted his children to know that he was a man of great importance.
A very strong thunderstorm cut our visit short, and we got drenched making our way back to the car.
There are things that trigger memories like this. Today, on our way back from a weekend trip to the Mekong River, I spotted this:
I suppose Mr. Deere would be quite satisfied to know that farming equipment bearing his name is being used half a world away.