We really have no understanding of the rigors encountered by our ancestors,
their neighbors, even the more recent ones, as an example:

Behind our home where I grew up, in the forties, were undeveloped fields, in
the city.  As a young kid I used to sit for hours watching this old man city
farmer with his two- mule team, plodding along to the rear and side of them
with those long reins and the ancient tiller, or whatever its proper name
was - a railroad tie with several long spikes driven through it serving as
tines, breaking up the clods making it ready for plowing then
planting......The sights and sounds were great; the jingling of the brass
rings and swivels and connectors for the tackle, the grunting of the mules
and their braying and hissing lugging that load, the old man whistling and
shouting signals to the animals and watching them respond in kind was
mystical to a kid.
This old man worked from shortly after sunup until almost sundown in a
sweatshirt, bandana around his neck, coveralls, boots, an eight-gallon straw
hat.....walking behind and being pulled by the mules over those uneven
clumps of earth......
I think it was about that time I decided farming was not going to be my cup
of tea......

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