legal issue here and there. Joe was sitting with a young man whose close-cropped haircut looked very military.
“Jonesy, meet VIN, short for Victor Isaac Noble.” Joe stood up and welcomed the older man to the table. “VIN here has just been discharged from the military this week. VIN, Jonesy here was discharged from the Air Force a year or so ago and is a mean SOB, but once you get to know him, you’ll find his bark is much worse than his bite.
The two men sized each other up, nodded, and Jonesy sat down. The table was quiet while the food was consumed.
“What’s happening to renewing my spray permits for next year?” Jonesy asked the attorney.
“Not good,” Joe replied. “The seed company that supplies the seed to the farms you spray wants the farmers to use the company’s new department of truck and aircraft crop sprayers and not you local guys. It seems that their monopolies are growing all over the country. They already put all the private crop spraying companies out of business in California over a year ago. With our North Carolina Department of Agriculture being fed financially by this company, I expect a similar law could be passed before the end of the year. South Carolina might hold out a little longer, but the poor farmers haven’t much choice anymore.”
“Crappy politicians as usual,” replied Jonesy.
“They can do that? Companies can force farmers to use their products?” asked VIN.
“Where have you been, kid? Out of the country?” replied Jonesy sarcastically.
“For nine and a half out of eleven years,” answered VIN.
“Where, Timbuktu?” asked Jonesy.
“No, Baghdad,” replied VIN casually.
“U.S. Army?” asked Jonesy.
“No, Marines, Force Recon,” replied the younger man.
“Oh! The real fighters. Special Forces, hey?” stated Jonesy with a little more respect.
“Somebody has to do the dirty work, and without the Air Force backing us up 24/7, I wouldn’t be sitting here now,” VIN replied not wanting to start a fight. He didn’t know how well he would fare without good legs to support him.
“Jonesy, give the kid a break, he has five medals to prove his worth and no legs,” interrupted Joe.
“Sorry to hear that,” replied Jonesy without much remorse for the younger man.
“VIN here was also discharged, like you without the opportunity to stay on. He’s also up shit creek without a paddle, trying to figure out what to do. Maybe you two should join up and start something,” Joe continued keeping the peace.
“Got any money, kid?” Jonesy asked.
“He does, and I will be going over that with him tomorrow,” replied Joe.
VIN did in fact have some money. More than he had thought he might have when he needed it. The next day he sat down in Joe’s small untidy office, and he was told what he had.
“Your last letter to me, VIN, was a month after you completed Boot Camp and accepted permanent enlistment in the Marine Corps. You remember that?” VIN nodded. “In the letter you told me to invest the money for you. At first I used the best company I knew, left a few dollars in your account and invested $29,900 into mostly conservative municipal bonds.”
“Whatever those are,” replied VIN.
“Long term bonds, a constant return from towns or municipalities with five-year or longer minimum payouts. One of your bigger investments of $15,000 was for ten years and paid out $27,700 last year after all federal and state income taxes were paid. Not a bad investment. The others were smaller and your grand total, not including the insurance payouts from the accident, is now $51,850.”
“You mean I have $50,000 in the bank, and my $1,432.00 a month army pension?” asked VIN.
“No, the truck driver’s company was charged with criminal negligence for the death of your parents. A year and one month after the accident, I received two checks from their insurance company, each for $100,000 for the death of your parents. I invested that money in a mix of medium
“Jonesy, meet VIN, short for Victor Isaac Noble.” Joe stood up and welcomed the older man to the table. “VIN here has just been discharged from the military this week. VIN, Jonesy here was discharged from the Air Force a year or so ago and is a mean SOB, but once you get to know him, you’ll find his bark is much worse than his bite.
The two men sized each other up, nodded, and Jonesy sat down. The table was quiet while the food was consumed.
“What’s happening to renewing my spray permits for next year?” Jonesy asked the attorney.
“Not good,” Joe replied. “The seed company that supplies the seed to the farms you spray wants the farmers to use the company’s new department of truck and aircraft crop sprayers and not you local guys. It seems that their monopolies are growing all over the country. They already put all the private crop spraying companies out of business in California over a year ago. With our North Carolina Department of Agriculture being fed financially by this company, I expect a similar law could be passed before the end of the year. South Carolina might hold out a little longer, but the poor farmers haven’t much choice anymore.”
“Crappy politicians as usual,” replied Jonesy.
“They can do that? Companies can force farmers to use their products?” asked VIN.
“Where have you been, kid? Out of the country?” replied Jonesy sarcastically.
“For nine and a half out of eleven years,” answered VIN.
“Where, Timbuktu?” asked Jonesy.
“No, Baghdad,” replied VIN casually.
“U.S. Army?” asked Jonesy.
“No, Marines, Force Recon,” replied the younger man.
“Oh! The real fighters. Special Forces, hey?” stated Jonesy with a little more respect.
“Somebody has to do the dirty work, and without the Air Force backing us up 24/7, I wouldn’t be sitting here now,” VIN replied not wanting to start a fight. He didn’t know how well he would fare without good legs to support him.
“Jonesy, give the kid a break, he has five medals to prove his worth and no legs,” interrupted Joe.
“Sorry to hear that,” replied Jonesy without much remorse for the younger man.
“VIN here was also discharged, like you without the opportunity to stay on. He’s also up shit creek without a paddle, trying to figure out what to do. Maybe you two should join up and start something,” Joe continued keeping the peace.
“Got any money, kid?” Jonesy asked.
“He does, and I will be going over that with him tomorrow,” replied Joe.
VIN did in fact have some money. More than he had thought he might have when he needed it. The next day he sat down in Joe’s small untidy office, and he was told what he had.
“Your last letter to me, VIN, was a month after you completed Boot Camp and accepted permanent enlistment in the Marine Corps. You remember that?” VIN nodded. “In the letter you told me to invest the money for you. At first I used the best company I knew, left a few dollars in your account and invested $29,900 into mostly conservative municipal bonds.”
“Whatever those are,” replied VIN.
“Long term bonds, a constant return from towns or municipalities with five-year or longer minimum payouts. One of your bigger investments of $15,000 was for ten years and paid out $27,700 last year after all federal and state income taxes were paid. Not a bad investment. The others were smaller and your grand total, not including the insurance payouts from the accident, is now $51,850.”
“You mean I have $50,000 in the bank, and my $1,432.00 a month army pension?” asked VIN.
“No, the truck driver’s company was charged with criminal negligence for the death of your parents. A year and one month after the accident, I received two checks from their insurance company, each for $100,000 for the death of your parents. I invested that money in a mix of medium
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