'Thanx . . . Love Ya, Bob Marley'

Bob Marley and I sort of crossed paths in the late 1970s.

I was living on a farm in southeastern Pennsylvania where we had dairy goats and a large vegetable garden. Folks from the Jamaican community in nearby Wilmington, Delaware, where Marley's mother Cedella lived, would stop out to buy goats milk and partake of the garden's bounty, including pig weed, which we considered a noxious pest but they relished and would serve as a side dish with goat's head soup, among other . . . um, delicacies.

Marley's wife, Rita, who lived part time in Wilmington, would come by with Mama Marley and several of her children, including a young Ziggy, who went on to become an international reggae star himself.

Our goat milk operation was self service. Customers would take a gallon jug from a refrigerator in the milk house and leave the dollar or two that we charged in a cigar box.

It was rare that none of us were at home. This was, after all, a working farm, but one day that was the case. When we checked the cigar box that evening, there was a $20 bill and a note written in a barely legible scrawl:

"Thanx for the good milk. Love ya! Bob Marley"