A happy prune picker! (Richard Allen, 1968)
Richard was a great person to know. Talking to him was like talking with Forest Gump. During my childhood years on the farm, he would travel up every summer from California to pick our fruit. He drove a big white Cadillac, the kind with sharp fins that would slice up pedestrians in reverse. He was one of the best of our pickers. He and my father could pick our whole apple crop by themselves. I loved to visit with him at length after a long day of picking.