Dear John Deere,
I don’t know how it started, but I have an awful lot of your stuff. I have pictures of your tractor. I also have a small replica of your tractor that children play with when they visit me. Actually, I know you have more than one tractor too – I have a book with pictures and stories about ALL your tractors from the first to the last.
I have one of your tablecloths, a miniature gas pump of yours, a toothpick holder with your logo, a set of dishes, some giant soup mugs, numerous metal boxes, a clock, an outdoor thermometer, a rug, a shirt and a couple hats – all in various shades of green and yellow, and with your name on them. I honestly can’t remember everything in this collection. It appears that there aren’t many things that you won’t put your name on.
John, you are my link to the past and all that was good about life on the farm. I remember those days whenever I pour my morning coffee into the John Deere mug and toast the new day. That’s why I’m sad to tell you that it’s over.
Today there was a crash and an exclamation of anguish from the kitchen where the husband was cleaning up his breakfast. John, he dropped your mug and it shattered. It’s gone. I threw it in the trash. Please don’t hate me.
Wishing it could have ended differently… (but after all, it’s just “stuff” and I can find another one in about 30 seconds on the internet)