History

One of the things I love about Tybee Island and Savannah is the history that greets you at every corner. That history has been the subject of many recent blog posts but right now I'm in Illinois. The history here is different. It is personal. I see things here that remind me of times gone by, of people I knew who are no longer here. We were driving to Galesburg the other day and went by the corner where we would turn to go to the farm where I grew up. Bob, our neighbor for the last 25 years or so, had put out a couple of tractors in celebration of Independence Day.

The tractor on the left is a Farmall 560 which has been restored to like new condition. If you look closely as the fender you will see a radio. Back in the days of my youth you were really doing something if you got to work in the field on a tractor AND listen to the radio. The tractor on the right is a Farmall B. It was a handy utility tractor great for mowing, running an auger or grain elevator. Both tractors were purchased new by Bob's dad Leo. There is something special about driving the tractor your dad drove, working the ground he worked. You can't feel more connected to your past than those times. Our neighbors ran red tractors. At our place the tractors were green. Not John Deere green, they were Oliver green. We had a couple of 1800's and a 1950. The 1950 is a 1964 model with a four cylinder GM diesel engine. It is the loudest tractor I have ever driven. My grandfather bought it new and every year it still sees service in the spring and fall. The history at the home farm is different. I can drive the tractor my grandfather bought on the ground his grandfather bought while trying to give my grandchildren some idea of the history of their family. The family has owned and worked that farm since 1868. There is a connection to that place that you cannot understand but feel to the depths of your soul. So while I see the history of Savannah and Tybee Island, that history belongs to someone else. Bob reminded me that my history is here. That somehow the call of home will always be in my heart. I will always come back here, always be connected to this place. The future will be written on Tybee Island but one foot will always be firmly planted in the soil of the Illinois prairie.