The old man and the farm

When I first met old man Harry; I thought he was too erratic, foul-tempered, or rather a man who harbored dark feelings for all young men. The day I stepped foot in the 'neighborhood of farmers', as it was commonly called; I noticed a form of cold war between the old farmers and the young farmers; a cold disagreement that wasn't showing signs of thawing any bit. Even if anyone wanted to call a truce, or sue for peace, between the two 'warring' parties; old man Harry is sure to never come to terms or have parley; and his faction studded with the grey, grim and old, looked on to him for leadership, and protection; and so he did champion their cause, even to personifying the high contempt they had for the young farmers; and I being a very young farmer, and quite new to the profession was careful not to come between a cross fire, lest I take a fire meant for an enemy.
''These old men should be dead or something''; I thought, innocently of course, silly me; for the old farmers were all fallen into a full ripe age; and should be gone! I was altogether intrigued and amazed by the hostility between the two 'warring tribes', as I was later to call them. And I wasn't willing to commit to any side. No; I was a loner in this wilderness; a man on a personal oddessy of self-discovery, and to indulge in a malicious self assertion, was to me, not the solitary life I desired. What was I running from? Fate. And can a man be free from the firm grip of his fate? Can he forge a path unparrallel to the one family had bred him into?
I was born into a successful family, that had risen from the cesspool of obscurity into fame; simply by application and staunch industry, of a very good reputation. And though I had followed the path of my forbears, viz., trading and commerce; it didn't quite save me from bankruptcy. And unwilling to continue in this line of business nor go apprentice to another trade; had decided to fall back to agriculture.
My grand father; being a successful farmer himself; while he was yet amongst us, advised me to consider agriculture, saying warmly to me, ''A farmer is never hungry''; and to further propel me into this consideration had willed to me his only farm located near the Niger, and also to be interred on the farm. Such was my grand pa's devotion to farming; and I believe he wanted to be buried therein so as to continue the profession in the great beyond!
And here I am; thrust in the midst of two opposing factions, and also trying to honor my grand father's memory, nay profession. And it came about, one cool morning; I was on my farm; clearing the weeds and the grass, that me thought I heard my grandfather speak to me from the grave, saying, ''Son, you work harder than the rest''; and I can scarcely describe the consternation of mind; and discomposure I was instantaneously thrown into, and I made to fly from the farm, thinking my grandpa's ghost had come abroad, but when I lifted up my head for I was bent before, I saw to my greatest relief, it was old man Harry; the captain and commander of the old folks' squad. He walks to me and says, ''You are a strong one lad. I have seen the young farmers in this neighborhood. They are all a nightmare to this profession. None of them worthy to lift their father's cutlass''. This he said with such passion; that I almost thought I had misjudged him all along. His beef was not with the young farmers but with their weakness, and lack of devotion to their work. His hatred of them was justified, and the reasons adduced not far fetched.
And before he left he patted me on my shoulder, just as my grand pa would, and said, ''you are a bliss to this profession''; and I needs say, never was a man this appreciative of my work. This singular act of his endeared him to me; and whenever there was no work to be done, I'd stroll to his house, and break both words and bread with him, for we became good fellows afterwards. And sometimes, I'd help him on his farm, for being old he needed help. And all the time I spent with old man Harry on the farm, never once did I miss society or feminine companion; and the time we spent smoking tobacco together was the most delightful I never had again.
For one evening, returning from my farm, I perceived all the farmers both young and old, converge at old man Harry's abode, and upon discovery was soon to find that the old man and my great friend; had passed. And when he was to be laid to rest, I was chosen by the lot viz, the young and old farmers, to perform the rites of a son, for as they observed; I was as a son to the diseased. And his own sons being overseas, could not come hither to perform their last duties.
I was overwhelmed by a deep sense of gratitude; when his will was read before all; and the old man had named me his universal heir, willing to me his farm, trucks and house; farm implements, necessaries I was in great need of. What was most welcoming was the old man's passing brought an everlasting peace between the society of young farmers and the community of old farmers; for they all came together to commit the agricultural patriarch to mother earth, and as one of the young farmers would later say; 'Old man Harry was an epitome of hardwork and industry, whose only wish was to see young farmers proud of their work'.
Well in honor of my fallen friend, and benefactor; I took the name 'Old man Harry'. And the old farm lord, completely immortalized.