My dad's house was built upon about 3-1/2 acres in the Edgemont area of Provo, Utah that had been an old cherry orchard. The neighbors would complain from time to time because of the garbage that would accumulate around the perimeter of the orchard along the irrigation ditches. Dad would be annoyed, understandably, because at least some of the garbage would have belonged, originally, to those very neighbors.
Dad showed them all. One day, he solved the problem for everyone by setting fire to the whole field. Sometimes a scorched earth policy speaks better for a man than all the signs and shouted epithets ever could. The complaining stopped. I don't know why the police didn't show up. Maybe it was different times, different reactions.
Believe it or not, it was really a blast being raised by the volatile . You never quite knew what was next. I do miss the . He made me what I am today.