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the family off the land. This hand-to-mouth existence convinced Brad he didn’t want to be a farmer. He wanted to see the world as a Marine.
A GREAT PLACE
    But what Brad wanted and what he got were two different things until he was old enough to vote with his feet. By the time Brad came along, the birth of another son was no longer extraordinary,and he was expected to pull his own weight as soon as he was able to work. Randy, the oldest boy, was the alpha dog in the family and used his dominance to lord over his brothers until they were too big for him to bite without a fight, Gerald Kasal said. Whether it was the hard work or the occasional fraternal scrap that toughened Brad, he soon grew extraordinarily strong and straight in a part of the world where strong backs are as common as red barns.
    Afton, Iowa, was a great place to grow up. The town’s children were carefully watched while they made their way from kindergarten to high school graduation. The town was too small for big secrets, and kids were always found out when they pulled one stunt or another.
    â€œEverybody knew if we did something we weren’t supposed to. Somebody would tell Brad or my dad,” Brad’s youngest brother, Kevin, remembers. “Somebody would stop by and mention whatever it was. We couldn’t get away with too much.”
    Hardly a week went by from fall to summer that the kids in Afton weren’t entertaining their parents and neighbors with plays, band concerts, or sports. And when kids weren’t entertaining their families and friends, they were usually working for them—baling hay, caring for livestock, planting crops, and working at the grain elevator for money that went for cars, school clothes, and a bit of pocket cash.
WORKING BOY
    Brad labored on his dad’s farm because he had no choice. “Brad was a hard worker,” Gerald said. “He was always working. As soon as he could do a man’s work, he was out doing it. Brad was never one to sit around when there was a job to be done.”
    In high school Brad worked as a busboy and cook at a little Mexican restaurant in Afton called Chello’s. At 16, as soon as hewas old enough to buy a car, Brad got a job at another restaurant in nearby Creston called Lil’ Duffers, a fast-food hangout all his friends visited for a handout. He started out on the counter and worked his way up to night manager, earning enough money to keep his car running and to buy nice clothes.
    At Lil’ Duffers Brad was generous to a fault, and his hungry friends never left without a free burger and fries, says Troy Tucker, one of Brad’s well-fed buddies. “I was always showing up just before close to get a sandwich. Brad would give me something and then tell me to get out of there before he got fired. There would be a whole line of us getting free food. I used to wonder how he didn’t get in trouble.”
    Most folks in Afton agree the virtues of plain, country living that attracted their grandparents and great-grandparents to Iowa were still intact in the 1970s and ’80s.
    â€œIt was a great place to grow up,” Brad says fondly. “We all hung out together. In the summer we hung out on the square in our cars, talking or driving around Afton. I had several really close friends I was usually with.”
    Brad and his friends somehow managed to elude the more dangerous temptations of modern life. Their world was cars, girls, sports, and hanging out in Afton’s tiny town square. Sometimes they skipped school and goofed off. Like kids of any era, they liked music and parties. During the long summers they drove around on the gravel backroads. If you listen to their stories long enough, you might find yourself humming the theme song from Happy Days.
    The town’s one cop didn’t bother them. “He kept us out of trouble but let us be kids,” Brad says. “If we did a burnout or a doughnut on Main Street when he was