Farm

Victor Davis Hanson At that last dare, in the style of my dad, I began firing everyone over the next hour. José their patriarch? “You are fired.” Herlinda? “You’re fired too.” The boyfriend, “You’re out.” The daughter and son, ditto. I had turned from an unemployed Classical language Ph.D. failure into a stark raving madman […]

Victor Davis Hanson It was now 1976. My grandfather died suddenly in the bed where he was born in 1890, in the room of his grandmother’s and where I sleep today nearly a half-century later. His departure left my 86-year-old grandmother and Lila alone in the big house—and no one to run the ranch. My

Victor Davis Hanson My grandfather continued, “Rodrigo Lopez is his name. Came with good word from all who knew him. And he’s got a family too—five kids and a wife. Family man. And he’ll be lots of help.” In an instant, I kept fixating on the glory days of Joe, Manuel, and my uncle renting