tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-593970477444543007.post-3501802896240838252009-09-30T15:24:00.001-05:002009-09-30T15:25:19.277-05:00<span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;">Mom's travelogue continues:</span><br /><blockquote><span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Date: July 6, 1972</i></span><br /></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Place: Plaza Motel</i></span><br /></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>"Today we drove out to Bob M. farm. He was there alone. Betty was in the city. He drove us to a farm on shore of Pacific Ocean that is reported to be for sale. No house. Only a sand dune between ocean and headquarters.</i></span><br /></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>We ate lunch with Bob - pork, cucumbers, mashed potatoes, black beans + lettuce w/hot dressing - lots of lemonade. He has a man cook - very good. Hot on farm - so dusty. They need rain. Cotton is about up 3 inches."</i></span><br /></blockquote><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;">When I started this series, I was asked </span><a href="http://homerstravels.com/2009/08/travels-day-1.html?showComment=1249326230529#c4701108246385946275"><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;">why we went to Guatemala</span></a><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;">. This entry deals with the reason. My dad was the only one of three brothers who did not farm. Before the move my parents ran a resort on the Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri. At my Uncles' suggestion, my parents decided to go to Guatemala to farm. Bob M. was a friend of the family and I believe he was instrumental in convincing my Uncles and my dad about the opportunities that existed back then in Guatemala.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;">While most of my family - Grandparents, Uncles - were farmers, I never was interested in that stuff. I think it was a little too physically demanding for me. Farming takes a very special type of person. I think my lack of interest in the family farm contributed to the gulf that opened between me and my dad.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/593970477444543007-350180289624083825?l=homerstravels.com' alt='' /></div>Homer-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00180515178920053080noreply@blogger.com3