Dilly MacJagger tells a tale of a foul mouth, unconventional, old fashioned, technophobe, retired farmer who lives in Kansas. The story is told through a series of letters and correspondence. He often wrote letters to his niece, nephews and sometimes neighbors reminiscing or simply complaining about his everyday life in the farm. I enjoy writing them and decided to share them.
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Dear Bobby,
Haven't wrote to you for awhile. Mail is hard to come by when you live in a remote part of the country. I was having a beer with Big Al the other night and we were talking about kids nowadays. Kids these days listen to boy bands singing and dancing with their tutus and plastic surgery nose (and probably balls too).
Anyway, these boys were not just singing and dancing, nowadays they sell perfume and lotion. See, back in the day we had coal mining, farming, hunting, and all sort of things that man do. Selling lotion? If you ever do that I swear to God your Great-great grandfather Ernie will dig himself out of his grave and drag your ass back to the grave and buried you himself.
Coal mining days were hard. We had little contact with our families, we didn't have cell phones or any fancy gadgets. We had to work long hours with maybe one or two men that you'll only see once or twice. They either left for greener pastures, died of an accident, got sick from the fumes and die.
We had to share food, mine day in and day out with no insurance or any shit like that. We had our lives and a pair of hands. Sometimes we don't even have safety helmets. See, me and Big Al we made out alive. Work for 4 years and safe up for a farm. We left as soon as we had enough money, we couldn't run fast enough away from that death trap.
Those were the hard days, we had hands as rough as leather and skin as thick as hide. Not to mention a heart as hard as a rock. We tough it out for a better future. Both of us knew that if we didn't we might end up like Back Luck Lenny who ends up working as a miner until the day he dies.
If I had a chance to do it all over again, I don't know if I would go through with it. On one hand it made us tough, prepared us for a rough world make us a man but on the other hand, those were the worst days I have endured. Coughing and chocking on the fumes knowing that death is just around the corner. Or hearing the creaking sound made by the tunnels signalling us it's impending collapse.
We lived in fear, fear of our end. But we learned to deal with it, pick ourselves up by the boot straps and go on. That's why I hate this generation, it's full of pussies, quitters, and excuses.
We did what we had to because we have little opportunity. Yet today, with all these new technology, kids still whine and cry about their life because mummy didn't buy them a piece of plastic kids called a cell phone.
I love you Bobby, but don't you ever be a pussy and quit on things. Life can be a real fucker sometimes but you're a MacJagger. And in the MacJagger household we don't quit, we show life that we can fuck harder.
P.S I am not buying you the latest Bustin Jieber (Whatever his name is) tickets, ask your dad. If he wants you to go to a concert for women, then he should pay for it.
Your's Truly
Grandpa Dilly
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