Over the past few weeks, my colleagues at Kansas Farm Bureau have seen more of my basement than either I or they ever envisioned they would. Their riveting view consists of two doors, one to the laundry room and one to a spare bedroom. Between the two hangs a painting from my grandmother.
It’s a fall scene of a barn with hay bales stacked next to it. The sky is blue with fluffy, white clouds. Autumn has turned the grass reddish brown and yellowed the leaves on the oak trees. It’s a scene taken from countless farms across the country. It’s also one of several family heirlooms surrounding me in my new workspace.
Most of my work is done at a desk that once belonged to my great-grandfather. According to family lore, it resided in the office of the movie theatre he owned and operated through the Great Depression until he died in the early ‘70s. My father used it in his office at my childhood home until I took possession of it.
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