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Dear
Friends & Family,
Childish, a. ...like
a child, or what is proper to childhood; trifling, puerile,
ignorant, silly weak. [Webster's]
That's
our boy Gabriel at the right being silly and childish--lunging
for a chocolate cake face first.
Childishness
fits children. We expect it.
We
don't expect it from adults. We don't expect
to see grown men throwing tantrums. We don't
expect to see grown women urging on their SUVs at break neck
speed--wedging forward like greedy six year olds at the
milk line.
We
know that people strive to "keep up with the Jones,"
but there is something comic about it when they do.
Adding a covered porch just because your brother built a new
house is silly, but it happens. I
guess. Blaring a ghetto-blaster just to annoy
your neighbors seems like something you wouldn't do past, say,
the second mid-term of your freshman year, but I imagine a grown
man might even do that. Theoretically.
Tonight,
after having dinner with Grandpa and Grandma, I was driving down
one of the farm's unlit dirt roads. I stopped at the
dumpster to unload some trash and I could hear the sound of a
car coming down the packing shed road too quickly.
My kids were all in our van, and I worried the oncoming car
might not be able to slow down in time, so I stepped out into
the road to wave them back and slow them down.
I walked out far enough to be silhouetted by their headlights,
so I knew they saw me. Did they slow
down? No. They barreled past us at
freeway onramp speed.
If
you are a Riley's Farm customer like that, do us a favor, will
you? Don't come back. We
don't want you. The customer is NOT KING on
this one, trust us. There are too many children
walking this farm, and too many other valued guests, to endure
barbarians behind the wheel.
The
vast majority of our customers are gracious, wonderful, caring
people, but there are a few who have been running the rat race
so long they have grown whiskers and a tail.
Part of being "one hundred years behind the times"
means having enough old-fashioned gumption to tell some
few of you the truth: GROW UP.
Your Humble Servant,
James
Riley,
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