Typically these sorts of autobigraphies begin with a mention of where one grew up. Well, who am I to diverge from the typical. I grew up on a small dairy farm. There I learned the quality of knowing and living the land. Strangely, though we were a dairy farm neither my dad or my grandpa cared for cows. Probably because if you seen anything twice a day, every day, for decade after decade, you can get a little tired of it. Instead, my lineage seems connected with the tending the land. My grandpa is 84 years old and still plants, culivates, and harvests. He told me once that he does it to keep his mind going. "Gotta keep your mind working, Jarrett. It's the only reason to have it." My grandpa is one of those quietly wise old men. As for me, I try to glean what I can from the world in my quest for serenity. Of course, I am ever raging against boredom as well, but serenity is far from boredom.
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