My father was showing me the improvements he had made on the Gallia County Farm. Since I hadn't visited the Farm in several months, and I hadn't even talked lately with my father, I was surprised to see that so much change had taken place on the Farm. As I stood on the back porch of the Farmhouse, I could see that the long barn at the bottom of the hill had been torn down. I wondered what had happened to all the old legal files which I had stored in the barn. I would have to ask my father about that.

More intriguing, however, was the concrete road which could be seen circling the hill behind the House. It looked as if the road ran all the way around the hill, and probably stretched to the top of the hill on the back side. Clearly a concrete road would have cost a fortune to build. I wondered about the wisdom of such a project.

My father took me to the top of the hill behind the Farmhouse, where I was surprised to find he was constructing a large building, apparently a lodge. As we walked through the immense edifice, I wondered what my father intended to do with this building. Apparently the building would have a restaurant and perhaps even rooms where people could spend the night. I imagined my father thought people would come out there to party. Perhaps he would charge admission of $10 per person. But, who would come out there? Surely the people in surrounding Gallia county would not pay $10 apiece to visit this building. And would people come from far away?

This immense lodge-like edifice, obviously terribly expensive, seemed ill-advised to me. I could foresee building sitting empty one day, with spider webs dangling from the ceilings.

Perhaps the building could be converted into a school, if enough children lived in the area.

Back in the Farmhouse, my father continued to show me around, pointing out the improvements he was making to the Farmhouse. He had even bought an elegant piece of jade pottery with the figure of a person sculpted on the top. When I looked more closely at the face of the pottery, however, I detected that it was cracked and had a nick on one cheek. I figured that my father had probably bought the piece on sale and I reflected that he typically sacrificed quality for price. The men working on the house, for example, were clearly not of the highest quality. The dozen or so men seemed to have no specialized skills, but were simply general workers who could be hired cheaply. All were white, but one looked as if he might have some Negro blood. I reflected that my father ordinarily didn't hire blacks.

I sat down at a table. On the table lay a sheet of paper which showed my father's expenses for the projects on the Farm. I had read so many corporate balance sheets while buying and selling stocks, I could easily read the sheet. I quickly saw that my father had spent about a half million so far on his projects. Clearly this was too much money, but at least he wasn't near bankruptcy, and he had no debt. So even though the projects seem to be money-losers, at least he was still solvent.

As I sat at the table, I noticed several photographs pinned to the wall in front of me. All the photos showed pictures of my father and my step-mother (whom he had recently married). The photos made the situation much clearer. My father wasn't undertaking the improvements for himself, but for my step-mother, to impress her. Now I understood.

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