Wednesday, January 3, 2024
I have so many, many fond memories of Jim. I started working for the Bordens when I was 16, picking apples and went from there to the dairy farm side where I still am, 16 years later. Jim taught me how to milk cows, and we spent many evenings in the old rotary parlor together. The first time I went to help in the barn, he gave me a pair of his own coveralls to wear. I remember one time when an overhead milk line came apart and we both got a milk bath! He had to get up on a ladder and put the clamp back on while getting sprayed with milk. At least it was warm! His love for the cows was obvious, and was a big part of instilling it in me. I never saw him be anything other than gentle with them. I'm certain that I've heard more jokes from him than anyone else I've ever known. He shared some of his favorite music with me, his set of Enya CD's, as well as those of an Irish band that I can't remember the name of. When I got my first apartment, he and Linda gave me all sorts of furnishings, from blankets to can openers. (which I still have) He made me feel seen and appreciated. He explained & de-mystified many things for me, and never made me feel stupid for not knowing or understanding something. I remember him explaining everything from his skin condion, to a heifer's reasoning skills, to the inner workings of a diesel engine, to how the cider press worked. He had such a grand sense of humor and a ready laugh. I will always hear his voice in my head telling me that I am SUCH a hard worker, that "If you want the cows to trust you, never give them a reason not to", "If you EVER need a reference......" and EVERY time I pick an apple I hear his voice telling me to "treat them like eggs" so they don't get bruised. I miss you Jim, and I'll never forget you. Every time I drive by your house in a tractor, side by side, etc. my head is going to turn, still looking for your wave from the porch. I hope you've got some good pet cows and an orchard to tend up there in heaven.
