What's In A Name?
We know, or at least we are told that a 'rose by any other name would smell the same'.
Years ago a friendly neighbor taught a handicapped children's class and several years she brought them out to our 'acreage' so they could see animals being raised.
We had a couple of milk cows and calves, pigs, chickens and several different types of fowls, ie. turkeys, ducks etc, horses, at least one dog, cats, and a goat besides a large garden.
When our friend got out of her vehicle she told her kids, "Take a deep breath. What do you smell? Eww..."
I thought, 'what does she mean, eww?' I did have a bit of a chuckle. Having grown up on a farm those farming 'ew' smells were near and dear to me, but citified noses apparently weren't tuned into even genteel farm smells.
I was informed a few years ago that of all the surnames you could have the one that you would want to change would be Magill (or its derivatives).
When I told my Adorable cousin this her mouth fell open, as had mine when I was told this idea. Oh, no, she said, we had a fabulous childhood.
We weren't rich, true, but there is more to life in a child's eyes than money. There were ten children in Adorable's family, and we played alot.
But since my uncle held down an off the farm job, the farm work and the ten cows that were milked twice a day, was the older children's chore.
We still found ample time to play. One year my aunt bought a season pass to the local pool. After morning chores were done we spent the rest of the day at the pool, sliding home just in time to change into chore clothes and everyone into their place to chore and get supper ready before Red got home.
My uncle didn't care for his nickname 'Red Magill', but as he told someone once, I couldn't fight the whole troop ship, so I just endured. That, of course was during WWII when he was heading into the Pacific theater. (To be continued)
