Chuck's Chat-Welcome to September!

Kansas Farm Bureau recently announced their newest member benefit partner, KEY Apparel. Members can save up to 20% on online purchases with free shipping on orders over $75. Members also have access to the KEY Business Design Lab to create custom-branded KEY apparel for your business. Go here for details: https://www.kansasfarmbureauepp.keyapparelstore.com/.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m excited about this benefit. I like to wear overalls. I grew up in overalls. Key overalls. I wore them to grade school, high school, and even college. I’ll wear them until they are literally thread bare, or my wife throws them out, whichever comes first. Oh, who am I kidding, I can’t part with them easily, it’s like we have become one.

My farmer/stockman father wore overalls. Everyday. Unless there was a reason to wear his dress “britches”, and it had better be a good reason at that. Dad usually had two pairs of them hanging on the bedroom door; one for work, and one for dress, like going to town or to visit someone. In the cold winters, he’d wear both pairs at the same time, the good pair as the first layer. He said that way he always had clean overalls to wear. During the hot summers, he’d sometimes unbutton the lower buttons along the sides. The top side buttons were never buttoned, as he pooched out a little too much to accommodate that.

He was never without a pair of pliers, holstered in the appropriately named pocket. He claimed he was off balance without them. I can still hear that distinctive “clink, clink, clink” as the metal five gallon bucket of feed or water ricocheted off those pliers. It was not difficult to figure out which livestock pen he was either headed to or returning from.

He always had a tin of Prince Albert tobacco in the bib left pocket, along with the free pack of rollin’ papers. It was easier to reach that pocket with his right hand. His wallet was kept in the bib right pocket. He didn’t reach for it nearly as often. The right front trouser pocket housed his pocket knife and ever present Zippo lighter, no doubt fueled with Ronsonol lighter fluid. The “clink” of the lighter lid flipping open, and then the “click” of the roller against the flint is another childhood sound I’ll never forget. Whenever he’d run out of lighter fluid or flints he’d resort to kitchen matches which were kept in one of the pockets, I just don’t recall which one. The left side bib metal button where the shoulder strap was buckled was permanently scarred from striking matches on it.

By the way, he usually cuffed the legs. I think mom could have bought shorter lengths, but then he would not have had a place to flick the cigarette ashes if he was sitting indoors and no ash tray was nearby. If he were standing indoors, he’d simply drop the ashes in one of the bib pockets. Ever the gentleman.

Be smart.

Be safe.

Stay strong.

God Bless America

Until next month,

Chuck Voelker