Better than Duct Tape

“Hey, sweetie, let’s go take your dad some lunch.” Maggie’s mom, Dena, scurried around the kitchen, assembling some leftover roast beef and homemade bread into hearty sandwiches. Canned peaches and chocolate cake were also added to the red gingham covered basket.“Let’s go.”

Dena lifted Maggie into the old Ford pickup and headed to the creek bottoms where her husband Jack was busy baling alfalfa. Rain was forecast for later in the day; she knew Jack would not stop to eat. At the moment, however, it was a glorious day, albeit a bit hot with the temperature in the low nineties. She was glad to have the opportunity to get Maggie out of the house for a bit. Maggie could tire herself out and would be ready for a nap later.

As she approached the fields where Jack was working, she was surprised to see him, not on the tractor, but, instead, walking around the baler. He acted oblivious to her and Maggie’s presence. He stopped, removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. Suddenly, he kicked the offending piece of equipment. It must have been the last straw. A string of vulgar obscenities filled the air. He aimed another kick at the baler and swore again as a piece of the baler fell off. He rummaged in the back of his truck for a bit of wire and managed to tie the broken pieces back together.

“Mommy, did Daddy just say bad words?”

Dena glanced at her daughter. Five year old Maggie’s eyes were round as saucers and her palm was clapped over her mouth. She tried unsuccessfully to suppress a laugh as she viewed the horrified expression on Maggie’s face.

“It’s OK, Maggie. That is how your dad fixes things – with baling wire and cuss words.”