By proxy

I’ve lived on this small farm with my dad for almost nineteen years. It’s on the outskirts of the city. Everything about the farm was normal except the name. My dad calls the place “By Proxy,” a name I never understood and, until now, never cared to understand. We operated in a typical fashion. We sold milk and eggs, alongside the occasional livestock sale. We had several acres of crops, all of which we sold to the nearby cities. But our biggest commodity has always been our pigs. My