My oldest brother, Larry, was eleven years older than me. I don’t remember much about him living at home with the rest of us. He left home when he was 16 years old, so I would have been five years old. Back then, a student could quit school at age sixteen and not be considered delinquent.

What I’ve gathered from older siblings, Larry and Pa were at odds with each other most of the time.  Larry had a slow, quiet way of doing his own thing, his own way, and he  didn’t cooperate with Pa’s plan. I remember Pa telling a story of when Larry was quite young. There were neighbor men at our place helping Pa on a project. Larry was hanging out with them participating in the work.  One of the neighbor men asked Larry what he wanted to do when he grew up, and suggested Larry might be a farmer like his dad. Without hesitation Larry replied, “No, I want to drink coffee and smoke cigarettes just like Grandpa Carl.”

Grandpa Carl was Ma’s dad. Grandpa Carl lived on our farm for several years in a little cabin he built for himself. I never knew Grandpa Carl, as he died before I was born. Ma told wonderful stories about her dad. He apparently had a zest for life, liked to tell jokes and laugh, and always looked on the bright side of things.

I vaguely recall a conversation between Pa and Larry with Pa talking loudly, but not hearing Larry’s voice in reply. Sometime later that day, Larry walked out of the driveway and down the road. He didn’t come back that evening.

There was a small shack a couple miles from our farm. Ma’s cousin, Herman, lived in the shack. Larry moved in with Herman. Herman later moved back to Story City Iowa where he had other relatives he could stay with. This was a bona fide shack. A small wood frame structure with two small windows, a rickety door with a latch, a hand pump, no electricity, and no insulation. Larry lived there for several years. As I recall, there was an old cast iron heater that also served as a cook surface. I don’t know who owned the property.

Larry achieved his goal early in life. In that old country shack, he sat in peace and drank coffee and smoked cigarettes.

These photos of the shack were taken in 1982. I went back with my family to visit the place where Larry once lived. My sisters and I had made window curtains for Larry when he lived there. Those curtains were still hanging at the window, worn and faded.