The White Jacket

During my stay at Kemptville College on the weekend I took some time out to explore the campus and stumbled on something that brought by memories of my grade 5 exchange trip. At the time we were living in the city and the concept of farms and agriculture were foreign to me. To give the city kids a glimpse into life on the farm we would spend a week living with our exchange partner and working on their farm while going to school. In exchange they would spend a week living with us in the city. My mother had bought me some new clothes for the trip which included a white sports jacket. At the time I didn’t know that white is not a color that you should where around the farm. My exchange partner was Stephen Stringer from Shelburne, Ontario. One of the first things we did when I arrived was to take a tour of the farm using his tractor. We checked out the disc, plough, barn, the seeder, the wheat field, the corn field, the silo at which point it was time to refuel the tractor. I unhitched the nozzle of the diesel pump, which was slippery, and attempted to put in the tank but missed. The diesel fuel spilled down the front of my white jacket. What to do? Stephen didn’t want his parents to find out what happened. We tried to wash the diesel fuel out of the jacket but too no avail. The jacket still stank. His parents knew something was up but we just made excuses. What to do? We came up with the idea to bury it. On the weekend, we headed into the back forty and buried my jacket. As I write this I’m not sure if my mother ever found out about why I came home jacketless. So, when I was walking by the diesel tank and pump it reminded me of my ill-fated white jacket.