I have pictures of my grandfather (Dad's dad) logging trees like that. My dad and his brother used to hand hew (with cross cut saw and axe) cross ties for twenty five cents each.
And they still call those the good old days.
Dad was born in '28...during the depression. Yes, he wore shoes with the soles held on with bailing wire...got pics of that too.
That sort of hard scrabble life instilled a deep seated will to succeed in those born during that time, and he did, in spades.
No food stamps.
No SS period.
You worked or you didn't eat.
There is actually a book published about my Dad's ancestors and their life in Mississippi before they came to the Louisiana Delta where they damn near all starved to death trying to farm during a drought in what's commonly known as "gumbo mud" soil. It's a true eye opener and I gave all my boys a copy of it.
I discovered a few years ago that Dad's older sister has kept a journal for *years* documenting their daily lives and how they survived such desperate destitution. I talked her into allowing me to have it long enough to transcribe it to a word document. It's one of my dearest treasures.
Yes, those people knew the meaning of "work".
If age is a state of mind, and I've lost my mind, I'm AGELESS, right?
Give me 40 acres and I'll turn this rig around:
Flagstaff 5er 2014 8528 IKWS
, Platinum Package, Regency Interior "Buffy"
F250 Super Duty 2013
Tuxedo Black "Biff"
Days camped 2014