The Young Bull and the Old Bull

KC and I built the fence in my parents’ backyard the summer after my freshman year of college, when my parents moved from Memphis to St. Louis. Though my father claims to adhere to the slogan “measure twice, cut once,” we approach many of our jobs together by not measuring at all and subsequently cutting many, many times.

This job was no different. Standard procedure is to place fenceposts eight feet apart in order to accommodate standard two-by-fours, which are usually eight feet long. I don’t remember how KC and I decided to measure the post placements, but suffice to say that our approach was faulty. We placed them ten feet apart.

We did not realize our error until the postholes had been dug and the posts had been sunk in concrete. Even if we had recognized our error prior to setting the posts, we were not about to re-dig 15 or so postholes, the completion of which had required two weekends, the rental of two augurs, and obscenity-earmuffs for all children within a 100 yard radius. So, what are two men to do when forced to span a ten foot gap with an eight foot board? Why, purchase twelve foot boards and saw them down to ten feet. This was another painful and profanity-laced operation. Incredibly, no appendages were lost.

Assembling the fence required carrying stacks of wood down a short flight of stairs into our backyard. When I reflect, at a very general level, about the work that I do with KC, I find that I usually have two goals, no matter what the project may be. The first goal is to finish the job as quickly as possible. The second is to remind KC of his physical and mental frailty. With these two goals in mind, I started carrying as many wooden boards as possible in each trip, challenging KC to keep pace. KC responded with this regal bit of fatherly wisdom.

“Have I told you the story of the young bull and the old bull?” he said.

“No.”

“The young bull and the old bull were on top of a hill overlooking the valley,” KC began, “Down in the valley were a dozen heifers. When the young bull saw the heifers, he started jumping up and down

‘Old bull! Old bull!’ the young bull said, ‘Let’s run down there and fuck us a heifer!’

‘No,’ said the old bull, ‘ Let’s walk down there. And fuck ‘em all.”

Two things were remarkable about this story. 1) I had never heard it before. KC has about 6 jokes in his inventory. He has not updated his inventory since 1977. 2) It was actually appropriate for the situation at hand.

As a side note, when our neighbors did a property survey several months later, they discovered that we had built the fence on their land. I was holding a razor blade over my exposed wrist, ready to end the misery before it began, when KC informed me that a professional builder would move the fence.