I live in a rural area and every person over 40 that I have gotten to know has the same story. When they were teenagers, even into their early 20's, they would get temp jobs on farms, helping harvest whatever the farm happened to be growing that year.
I’m in my 50’s and got into college at 17. I paid for my first two semesters’ room and board with about six weeks working the cotton fields. The job was ‘chipping’, which is walking up and down rows of cotton, hoeing out* any plants that weren’t cotton.
Seasonal agricultural work used to be a staple of college students, from the hop harvest in Europe to strawberries in the US. With illegals being sent back, hopefully those days can come again.
*I hate to have to say this but if you equate ‘hoe’ with anything but the eponymous garden implement, your brain has been poisoned with the nigger filth mind virus and you should probably consider McNutting yourself for the betterment of humanity.
The most telling part of that photo is how absolutely shook the man who took it was when he saw it printed
There were obviously easily a hundred or more photos taken in the thirty seconds around the moment the second or third bullet clipped his ear. Modern digital SLR cams are limited only by their memory capacity. There was even a photo that captured one of the bullets that missed by inches.
Of all the hundred photos, that one is
perfect. The flag. Trump’s arm matching the crane arm that supported it. His fist in line with the flag support cable as if he were holding it aloft personally. His bodyguards confusedly ducking for cover or standing startled while he rises, determined, bloodied but fearless, and heedless of further danger; urging his followers: fight. Fight. FIGHT!
He didn’t know at that moment the extent of the threat, or the extent of his wounds. Many people don’t know they’ve been shot until minutes later when they see blood, feel pain, or start to die. That’s the measure of the man. Nothing matters more than “I have blood in my eyes, I may have just been shot, in case I die I need to deliver a message.”
This image, even more so than others within a hundredth of a second of it, is our generation’s flag on Suribachi or Tiananmen tank man. Strength. Defiance. Courage. Fearlessness. There will not be in our lifetimes another image in which so many unstated heroic values are on display. Whether or not you like Trump, this is, and will forever be, THE photo of the 2020’s.
