Our Dear Friend John

As the New Year rolls in, loved ones from the past come up again and are pasted in my mind. This year, that special someone is Mr. John Doll, “The Doll”, or Grandpa John, our extra grandpa we adopted.  Mr. John, an ex-dairy farmer, lived on the same road as us, Harmony Rd. He lived on the last property in McHenry County, before Boone County started. He lived in a classic two-story farmhouse alone, with his baker's dozen of cats in the barn, who kept him company, and kept him movin' too. I never met Mr. John until my friend Doodles introduced me to him. I was in the market for a combine, and Doodles told me John had just the right combine I was looking for. I agreed to look at the combine and went over to old John's farm. I immediately liked John. He was a sweet guy. He showed me the combine, and it fit all my needs. It was an old combine; I'm sure neighbors laughed at the old dinosaur, but it did the job and fit my small operations' needs. Cry, the combine was 3 minutes down the road, which meant it was a short trip for the old bird to its new home! And it also meant I wouldn't have to sweat like a pig for miles driving the airconditionless machine home... haha! The combine wasn't the only thing that I noticed with some life left in it... John's farm had a big red empty barn, green pastures, a classic country chicken house, and him. Weeks passed, and I kept in touch with old John. There was a seed in my mind, my young, ambitious self, saw the potential in that old farm. I was dying to throw a couple of calves and chickens there. One day, I threw the idea out to John. He liked it, and I began renting out his buildings and pastures. I put 4 calves and about 70 chickens there. I went every morning and night to check the livestock. I saw John every morning and afternoon, and we chatted while he fed his beloved cats and I took care of the cattle and hens. Old John loved the life brought back to the farm. And I loved the life brought back to him! I took my kids, George and Alexia, along some days, and they helped collect eggs and do chores. Boy John loved kids and enjoyed teasing them. Every time before the kids and I left, he would pat my truck and say goodbye. As we said goodbye and the wheels of the old truck turned, he would yell, “ OW! You ran over my foot!” The kids' faces and hearts sank; their eyes were wide with fear. He looked at their faces with a cowboy grin and laughed.  As time passed, we grew closer and loved Mr. John more and more each day. When the holidays rolled around, we asked him what his plans were. He had no family and stayed home each holiday, so we began to invite him to every holiday, birthday, and family gathering of ours. We teased him about his perfectly combed silver hair and called him “Mr. John the Doll.” At church, we sat by him every Sunday; he no longer had to sit alone. We teased him a bit and pointed out potential dating candidates for him. Around holidays, we helped decorate his house with his vintage, neat decorations; we looked at his pictures from his golden years and commented on how handsome he was and still is! He smiled from ear to ear, and his face flushed red. For his birthday, we surprised him with a custom cake saying “ Happy Birthday Grandpa John The Doll!”  A couple of years later, in 2017, I went over to Mr. Johns’ to feed the cattle and hens. After I finished, I walked up to John's door to check on him. I yelled and knocked a couple of times, but no answer. I opened the door to find it unlocked. I carefully walked in and yelled for him again; no answer. I slowly walked into his house with my mind assuming the worst. As I took my first step in the living room, I saw my buddy John sitting in his chair with a hat covering his face, still as a stone. I walked closer with a pit in my stomach and called his name, and touched his arm, only to feel his ice-cold arm. I lifted his hat and saw his blood-covered face. I immediately sat on the floor and cried hysterically. I found my friend John dead. I had never been more terrified in my life. I called 911 and told them about John. As I hung up, I sat in the deepest silence in the lonely, empty farmhouse. The silence pierced my soul, and I ran outside and sat on the snow-covered concrete steps. I waited for the police anxiously. I gave my statement and went home. I waited at home for my kids to come home from school, not knowing how I would tell them. Little George and Alexia walked through the door from head to toe in their snow gear, with shining smiles. I told them the news about John and saw their smiles fade and eyes fill with tears. The investigator said Mr. John fell when he was doing chores and was able to make it into his house.  I think of John every day. When I feed the cattle, I hear him telling me, “They like that dry hay!” He changed my life, and I like to think I changed his, too. I stopped renting the farm after he passed; it was too difficult to be there. One calf I had there was a beautiful Hereford heifer. He would tell me, “ You should keep that one.” I kept that heifer, and she has given me a beautiful, healthy calf every year, 9 years straight, and she's expecting her tenth calf this year. In a flash, someone can be gone, so this year, don't forget to cherish and make an impact on someone's life.  Written By Alexia G. Hasselmann GEORGE S. HASSELMANN'S STORY