Category Archives: Bob

Superman Meets the Invisible Man

My husband was a workaholic. This column from 1987 tells how he attempted to do everything, except sleep. During his night shirt at the canning company, he was found a time of two sleeping standing up–this is not an exageration.

For summer and fall, I lived as a single parent, which wasn’t easy either. Often I felt I was being pulled apart when I was needed on the farm knowing our children required at least one parent some of the time.

Anyway this is what I wrote about Bob during those hectic times.

Watching Bob work himself to death wasn’t easy to witness but no one could stop him from any of his work adventures.

Today, I’m missing him and wishing we had more time together. It was a good thing he did eventually slow down, finding time to enjoy more than work.

Until next time, that’s it from Sunnybook Farm.

Copyright © 2021 Susan Manzke, all rights reserved

Bob’s farm vehicle

My columns tell about our lives on Sunnybook Farm. Today I read one about Bob.

It’s no secret that all our machinery was old. Bob never bought new, except one Ford tractor when he was in Illinois and in a partnership with his dad. Otherwise, everything was used.

Today I share a tale about a family van that was turned into a farm repair van.

Bob much rather work on a tractor than on a car or a van. He preferred big machinery.

Every machine was worked until the end of its natural life. Some were used to fix another, but that didn’t work with cars or vans. They just went to the big junkyard in the sky.

This van was nearing its final days when I wrote this column.

Until next time, that’s it from Sunnybook Farm.

Copyright © 2021 Susan Manzke, all rights reserved

A Bob story

Today I’m reading a column from 1990 about Bob.

My husband was a soft-spoken guy except when it came to stubborn machinery. Then he would let the sharp words fly, but only if he was alone.

Of course, Bob forgot that sometimes others could hear his colorful words.

The kids laugh after hearing him working in our basement alone. Their dad’s words didn’t stop at the basement ceiling but floated into our living room where everyone could hear him. Bob never realized this, until he heard the kids laughing.

If Bob was really having a bad time with machinery, I’d head out and help. My hands would fit where his didn’t. Many days we were both covered with grease and oil. On a few rare occasions, I found solutions for him, that was because I didn’t know what I was doing and found interesting ways to address problems.

I sure miss him.

Copyright © 2021 Susan Manzke, all rights reserved

Bob’s story

My late husband had all kinds of things happen to him while farming, afterward he would recount them to me.

Some stories were about machinery breakdowns. This one concerned wild weather.

No matter what happened, Bob laughed. Even this time, when he almost bought-the-farm.

I continue to live on the farm. Though others work the ground, Bob’s heart and soul is still here on Sunnybook Farm.

Copyright © 2021 by Susan Manzke, all rights reserved

Bob seeks farming options

In May 1988, I found Bob doing a lot of farm figuring in the middle of the night.

Bob’s work-life concerned farming 24/7. This night he was trying to make plans for spring. Everything looked good on paper, but…

Thinking about farming happened at night and during the day. Until planting was complete, Bob’s life centered on farming.

I did drive a tractor and worked up the ground before Bob planted. But it wouldn’t take much imagination to figure out that I handled a lot of our family activities.

Copyright © 2021 by Susan Manzke, all rights reserved