My mom’s cousin died a couple of weeks ago. He was my cousin, too, but he and Mom grew up together and were about the same age, so I think of him as her cousin. I didn’t know him well, but I always liked him, and I’ll never forget the story he told about the time he threatened to open a hog farm and slaughterhouse in his backyard
Morris lived out in the country. I don’t know how many acres he had, but it was a big backyard, big enough for a hog farm, anyway.
Some developers bought the land behind his and applied for a change in zoning so they could put up a subdivision. The county said OK, as long as the developers built a berm around the subdivision and planted enough trees to give the surrounding homeowners some privacy.
The developers built the berm but planted only a few trees and called it a day.
Morris didn’t like that. He complained to the county and the developers, but they didn’t do anything. The developers said they’d followed the letter of the agreement with the county and they weren’t going to waste time or money planting any more trees.
Morris didn’t think that was right.
He lived out in the country, on land that was zoned agricultural, so he went to the county and pulled a permit to build a hog farm. Then, he paid a guy to make him a big sign that he mounted on his side of the berm, positioned so everyone who came to look at lots in the subdivision could see it:
Coming soon: HOG FARM and world-class SLAUGHTERHOUSE!
Ands he listed his phone number.
Pretty soon, the developers called.
You’re bluffing, the developers said.
I just pulled the permits, my cousin said. They’re on file at the courthouse, if you want to check.
You’re not really going to build a slaughterhouse, the developers said.
Sure I am, my cousin said. It’s gonna be great, too. State of the art. Gonna have a few hundred hogs, make a lot of money.
Pretty soon, the developers sent a crew around to cover every square in of that berm with trees, and Morris pulled down the sign.
Todd Pack 
‘Atta boy Morris. And that is the way you get it done. Sorry for the lost, Todd. I’m glad he left you with good stories.
Thanks, Lenore. He was a good guy.
Not just a slaughterhouse. A world-classslaughterhouse.
We don’t do things halfway in this family. If we do something, we do it big.
Bravo to Morris! That’s a man who knows how to get things done. It’s wonderful to have great stories like that, so that his memory never dies. So sorry for you and your family’s loss.
Plus, it was cheaper and a lot more fun than hiring a lawyer!
I wish everyone’s cousins were that resourceful.
I think the world would be a better place.
Sounds like my kind of guy. Sorry for your loss.
Thanks, Huffy.
Condolences to your family. Great story!
Thanks, Thomas.
Developers are such bottom feeders. Nice to see one forced into doing right.
I don’t want to paint developers with too broad of a brush. I’m sure there are a lot of decent developers out there. These guys, though, weren’t among them.
Seems an efficient solution to the problem.
I think he thought it was a fun solution, too!
And that’s the way you do that 🙂 What a great story!
World-class story — good for Cousin Morris!! It’s nice when the Little Guy wins big. Condolences on his passing.
I like your cousin’s way of thinking. He knows how to throw the ball back in their court. Funny!
A few years ago I moved my family to a farm where we rented the old farmer’s home. I worked in the city as the sales manager for a technology company, but I always wanted to try living the “country” life. I thought I had found the best of both worlds because the old farmer’s son ran the farm while my family enjoyed the open fields. Just after moving in we realized we had made a huge mistake. The son had a hog farm about 50 yards from our back door where he raised 250 hogs. Needless to say, we only lasted a year.