Today, I fell hard for an April Fool’s joke from my friend Leeanne. I should have known better, since she is forever known to me as “the rascal.” But, as all great April Fool’s Day jokes, it was timely and believable.
Leeanne’s prank brought to mind an April Fool’s joke-for-the-decades, played on my dad by his life-long-friend and neighbor, Bob Harper.
When we grew up in rural Kalamazoo County in the 1960s and early 1970s, many of the people who lived around us were farming the same ground as their parents and even grandparents had. And in addition to grains, many farmers also produced livestock: pigs, sheep, and/or cattle.
The farm directly to our west was owned by Bob and Nancy Harper–and like our family, Bob’s parents and grandparents had also worked the same ground.
Bob and his sister Liz, and our dad and Uncle John, grew up together and were as close as cousins. Bob and Nancy were like an aunt and uncle to us, and their home was one of those places we knew could be a shelter or an emergency call or stop if we ever needed one.
During those years, Bob and Nancy had developed a registered Yorkshire hog business; their work in genetics and bloodlines was reputable in the state and region, and they produced much sought-after breeding stock.
Dad and Bob had invested in some animals together–I think they bought several outstanding boars and sows to introduce another superior bloodline in the Harper’s registered herd. Dad was feeding and caring for these new animals in one of our barns, and those animals had sired some pigs that were ready for other producers to buy.
Bob and Dad were the best of friends, and I’m sure many of their regular conversations over a cup of coffee were about the potential profit they could make on these animals housed in our barn. Maybe they even got their pencils out and did some calculating.
And on April 1, some of those animals were ready for new homes.
In the early evening, as our freshly fed and showered Dad was settling in his chair to read and relax after a day of work, Bob called.
“Gordon, someone wants to come down and look at one of the boars you have. He’s really interested in buying one. Can you get them ready?”
Dad took his livestock seriously. He was on the livestock judging team in high school and at Michigan State University. He always took pride in caring for our animals, providing quality feed and shelter. He wanted to present those animals in the best way possible.
In my mother’s retelling, “He raced to the barn, cleaned up the pens a bit, and waited.”
And waited. And waited.
Slowly, it dawned on Dad that it was April 1st. He eventually came back across the street to the house, and I’m sure he and our mom shared a good laugh.
Bob never called him to say “Gotcha–April Fools!”
Well, they had over forty years of friendship behind them at that point.
It just wasn’t necessary.
It’s a Fine Life