Toughening in
“I just need to toughen in!” So said Old Frank, my new landlord at the time. I was twenty-one in the winter when I rented a small dairy farm, sight unseen, from Old Frank. Old Frank was several years past his eightieth birthday when he and I first crossed paths in a waiting room. Frank was garrulous and gregarious and soon shared with me that he had a problem: the tenant of a dairy that he owned was exiting the farming business. “I’m too old to farm anymore,” Frank lamented. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with that place!” I had been striving desperately ...