IVAN

I didn’t like him. He was,

I thought, a braggart, always

going on about his big dairy

herd and how much money he’d

“dished out” to buy Royal Consort,

the prize bull he was so proud of.

When I got home from school,

he’d often be at the feed mill

where my dad worked and I’d

hear him bragging. I didn’t

like the way he ordered Dad around

as if he was the boss instead

of Mr. Cassel. I wished Dad would

tell him to shut his big fat mouth

and once, after he left, said so.

I remember how Dad gave a little

smile and told me that when

I grew up I’d understand.

“Rich people,” he said, “can say

anything they want to.” I said

I thought that wasn’t fair.

“Yes,” he said, “but anyhow there

is no law that says the rest of us

are required to pay attention.”