Deb,
You touched the Huemmingway nerve which resides deep within me.
    A few years ago, my son and I fished off the coast of Maine and saw firsthand the lobster folks plying their trade.  I mentioned to the guide that I would like to one day spend a couple of months working a lobster boat.  He said two things:  hurry because all too soon there will not be many left; be prepared to earn $5/hour and all the lobster I can eat.
    We don't have to look very far to find the hard-livin' folks.  Lobsterfolks are a romantic breed because they are unfamiliar to me; share croppers may be romantic to you for the same reason.  Until we "experience" poverty and hunger it will always retain a "romantic" (in the classical sense) quality that in reality is not there.  
    I grew up in a Texas oilfield filled with "roughnecks" and "wildcatters."  Right out of a movie like Giant.  To the unfamiliar, it seems epic and romantic.  To my 8 and 9 fingered classmates, to my childhood friends who never finished school because the family needed to pay off crop loans - it is an entirely different story.
    And to Gib Combs - who hunted and fished without any regard to licenses and seasons and limits and then distributed that food to those who needed it. . .rest well, my firend!  May you feat at a heavenly banquet table.
    Just a thought. . .
    Doug

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