I remember picking up, hauling and stacking bales, the 50+ pound rectangular ones, as a high school kid in the 60s.
When we got to the last bale in the field the farmer always said “that’s the one we’ve been looking for”
The good old days, a friend and I split a nickel per bale. On a good day, we’d make $20 or so each.
And at the end of the day the best farmer would hand us a couple beers and say, “ you boys have a good evening”
We were 15-17 years old at the time.
Suppose he’d go to prison today for giving us beer.
