If Barns Could Talk, This One Would Say…
I’ve outlived your Grandparents and their Parents. Over the years, I have housed tobacco, hay, and equipment. I’ve withstood all the forces that nature could throw at me, from driving rain, wind storms, and the three feet of snow on my roof in February of 1959.
I was once you and your sibling’s playground. I’ve watched as you and Billy played marbles on my dirt floor and played “hide and seek” in the hay. I remember the time you made wings out of cardboard and thought you could fly off my roof onto the haystack. It didn’t work out so well, but you survived.
You thought you were a big shot the time your Grandpa let you drive his tractor out of the barn, although he didn’t know you were practicing while he was church on Wednesday nights.
When you were ten years old, I saw you take your first puff off one of your grandma’s cigarettes that you slipped out of her purse. You coughed and turned green, but still, you strutted around like a Banty Rooster and thought you were really cool.
What about the time that mean little Robert’s kid shot those bullet holes in my roof? He sure did cry when his daddy took that switch to him.
Remember the time uncle Earl fell out from the upper tier pole while hanging tobacco and broke three ribs? That was a close one. Sometimes it seems like yesterday, but it’s been at least 35 years.
I was hiding you inside my weathered doors when you got your first kiss from Ann Marie. I thought y’all were too young, but that was the age of innocence and that was as far as it went.
I shielded you from the rain and hot sun while you and your buddies used my lower tier pole to pull the engine out of that 68′ GTO. When you got her back together she purred like a kitten.
I’ve stood here since the 1920’s. God knows I’ve witnessed many of changes where I stand. Got struck by lighting in 36′, 48′, and 72′, thankfully the fire never took hold. Trees have grown up around me and my old boards are falling off. The old dirt road that I overlook changed to gravel in 1946, then in 67′ they turned her into pavement. Back in the day people seemed so happy as they chugged along in an old pickup, but nowadays they’re always in a rush and never smile anymore.
There was a time that I was important. Farmers relied on me to dry their tobacco. It would hang from August until they took it to market in January. I’ve kept old tractors, wagons, and any other piece of farm equipment dry year-round.
As the years have passed by, the farmers around here are building all these newfangled metal barns that are twice my size.
I am no longer needed. No one even looks my way anymore. I’m not as strong, or as handsome as I once was. But thru all the generations that have come and gone… I’m still here.
The next time you’re going down the road in a rush and glance over at an old barn or building, take the time to think of the stories it could tell if it could talk.