Something Funny Happened on the Way to Oklahoma

It is finals week at Purdue. The campus is filled with caffeine-driven, sleep-deprived, panicked and anxious students. It is a week I don’t miss, although I do have found memories of one finals week.

Purdue finals week 1993 holds a special place in my memory. And it wasn’t for the stellar grades I received or other academic excellence. Rather, it was the week my future husband and I would officially start dating.

I met my future farmer during Christmas vacation of my freshman year. I had gone to Purdue with a boyfriend from high school, although the relationship didn’t last much past Halloween. I wasn’t looking to get serious with anyone, just make a lot of friends. I often joke that my Dad sent me to Purdue to get my Mrs. degree, to find a farm boy to bring back home to farm with him! A B.S. was a good second degree, but an heir to the farm was my dad’s first priority!

I was very active in Purdue’s Christian Campus House all throughout college. Freshman year Christmas break included a mission trip to Cookson Hills, Oklahoma. Cookson was a place I had visited in high school and someplace I was excited to visit again. And as per God’s plan, my future husband, whom I had yet to meet, was on the trip as well.

A funny thing happened on that trip to Oklahoma. 80 other students went as well, including my future husband. So I spent the week flirting with my future husband. And when second semester started, we just happened to be in the same Calculus class! We spent a lot of time studying together, although while I studied him, he actually learned math.

After our Calculus final exam, which I would have to retake my sophomore year, he asked if we could go out over the summer. I later learned he then went home and broke up with the girlfriend he had been dating!

My future husband proposed to me 6 months after that calculus exam and we were married 2 years later. God put him in my path and after knowing him for 17 years and preparing to celebrate our 15th anniversary this summer, I can still look fondly back on finals week 1993. It was a funny thing that happened on the way to Oklahoma.

Where are our Values?

How many of us remember the teachers we had in our elementary years? Were they the people who fostered your love of reading, coloring, exercise, art and math? Mine were. I go back to my kindergarten days and remember Mrs. Wray, my first teacher and a nice lady. I remember the letter people she had that helped me learn my alphabet. I recall making a turkey placemat out of my handprints for a Thanksgiving holiday. Overall, she was someone who jump-started my love of learning.

Moving on through the elementary years, I was blessed with many other good teachers.  They taught me to love reading. And while I’m not all that excited about math now, I remember being excited to learn it 25 years ago!

As a grown-up, I’ve always paid attention to issues in  my school district. But I didn’t start getting really concerned until my oldest daughter entered kindergarten this year. She has had a great teacher and has excelled in her classwork. She love to read, draw, run and sing in music class. Overall, she’s had a great year, much of which I owe to her teacher.

So imagine my surprise when I read in my local paper that our school was undergoing a RIF, a reduction in force, for next school year. And I was even more surprised when one of the teachers RIFed was my daughter’s kindergarten teacher.

I am outraged. The school is talking about going to bigger class sizes in order to save money on teacher salaries. I understand the entire education system is experiencing cuts, but what I can’t understand is why we have to cut teachers?

Why are we living in a society where we will pay actors and sports stars millions and millions of dollars, but we can’t afford to pay our teachers a decent salary? Where are our values? Is it really more important to watch the latest feature film or football game and pad the pockets of a bunch of overpaid people? Or rather should we start paying the people who are shaping the lives of our future leaders?

I don’t understand the importance this society places on fame. Famous people mean nothing to me. I don’t watch television, haven’t seen a current movie in years and rarely attend a national sporting event. I would rather place kindergarten teachers on a pedestal than a football player any day. The teacher will help determine the future of this country, not someone who can throw a ball.

Mushroom hunting

There is no better memory that I have of growing up than of the Sunday afternoons I spent following my Dad around the woods seeking mushrooms.  As soon as church was over, lunch was eaten and had changed clothes, Dad and I were off to seek out those tasty treats.

Dad taught me alot on those long walks in the woods. It was a great father-daughter bonding time. I am my father’s daughter. I always wanted to walk in his footsteps, be like him and in general thought he walked on water!

Dad taught me where to hunt for mushrooms, what plants needed to be blooming in order to find them, and to have patience in the search.

My husband has spent quite a few hours searching these same woods with our daughters.  Last weekend he took them out after church in the pouring rain.  But the girls wanted to go. The oldest couldn’t wait to get home and start traipsing through the woods. 

They did bring home a nice stash for our supper. They were fried up and enjoyed much faster than it took to find them!

Happy Birthday, From a Planter

I should have learned a long time ago that being born at the beginning of planting season is a guarantee that my birthday would be forgotten. Being the daughter of a farmer, my birthday greeting from my Dad was normally sent via a quick trip to the planter. Or it was given over the tractor radio, for the whole farm to hear!  And now being married to a farmer, I know what to expect.

The kids had done a great job of reminding the husband of what I wanted for my birthday, a magnolia tree. Next time they should remind him to actually wish me a happy birthday before it’s time for lunch.

To the contrast, the first thing my kids did when they woke up was come give me giant hugs. That will make anyone have a much better time dealing with turning a year older.

I’ll give my husband some credit. At some point in his crazy farm schedule, between hauling pig manure, fixing broken tractors and working ground, he managed a trip to the greenhouse to buy a magnolia tree. And I hope it blooms like this some day.

So my husband forgot to wish me a Happy Birthday. It’s ok. Hopefully we’ll have 50 or 60 more years together for him to remember!

Throwing the curve balls

My house seems to be full of chaos right now. My husband is trying to plant corn before it rains and is working very long hours. My oldest is having love-life problems in kindergarden, involving one boy and four girls who want to marry this young man.  And my youngest spent the night throwing up.

If there is one thing I would pay someone to do in my house, it’s cleaning up kid sickness.  I immediately get sick when others get sick.  After a night of throwing up and little sleep, neither of us are moving fast today. She’s bedded down on the one clean blanket left in the house and I’m working. I think it’s going to be a long day.

Why the Strange Name?

As I finally get my personal blog off the ground, I struggled with a name for my thoughts.

I started thinking about my farm operation. My family has farmed for decades and I’m proud to be the 4th generation on the farm. My two 5th generation farm kids are ages 6 and 3 and love all things agriculture.

When I was growing up I remember fencerows. Mainly because I “got” to clean them alot! It seemed to be my job to pick trash off the fencerows. But if you travel through Indiana farm fields now, you rarely see a fencerow.

Why? Because farmers take out the fences to be able to plant just a few more rows of corn or soybeans. Former Secretary of Agriculture and Purdue Dean of Agriculture Earl Butz urged farmers to plant commodity crops like corn “from fencerow to fencerow.” Many heeded his words.

And sometimes my life feels like that. I am running full-steam, taking out the fencerow so I can fit in just a few more things.

And this blog is my attempt to squeeze yet one more thing into my already chaotic walk. I hope you will bear with me as I plant a few more rows of my life and give you my view from FenceRow to FenceRow.

My Letter to the Editor

My local newspaper recently wrote an article about Food Inc., the much-hyped movie that tries to give modern agriculture a black eye. I could not sit quietly by and wrote the following:

Four generations of my family have farmed in Miami County. My great-grandfather started our farming operation, my grandfather spent countless hours working the soil and now my father, uncle, husband, cousin and many dedicated employees continue the tradition today. I have personally been involved in agriculture for my entire life, from my days in 4-H and FFA, my farm broadcasting career to my current position in our wine and grape industry. Agriculture is my life’s calling and I am dedicated to producing food that is safe, abundant and affordable.

The movie Food Inc. has received much publicity and an appearance on The Oprah Show. People need to remember it is a single point of view. This movie was made to make money. Michael Pollan, who wrote the book The Omnivore’s Dilemma, on which the movie is based, is not a scientist or a nutritionist. Rather, he is a journalism professor who knows how to carefully manage his words for a big impact.

While the film does not attack farmers directly; it focuses its attention on agricultural and food companies. The movie does make some supportive comments about farmers and includes a sound recommendation that consumers should “know more” about your food. However, its inaccuracies attack modern farm practices. The modern food system is positioned as a corrupt, evil industry that is harming employees, animals, and consumers while using its power and influence to hide its business practices from view. These accusations are simply not true.

The movie implies that organic foods are less likely to contain e-coli or other contaminants. This is also false; the 2006 e-coli outbreak in California spinach was caused by an organic process.

As a producer, we have an ethical obligation to make sure the animals on our farm are well cared for. We would not be in business today if we didn’t provide our livestock a safe, healthy environment in which to grow. That is why our hogs live in climate-controlled buildings. This keeps them out of the harsh elements of winter and out of the path of predators.

I have always believed there is room for all types of agriculture. Whether it is organic or conventional, free-range or climate-controlled buildings, producers are free to farm in a manner that best serves their needs. However, if people like Pollan get their way, policy will be created that will force modern agriculture out of business and a growing population to go hungry. It is estimated by the year 2050, we will be feeding over 9 billion people across the world. We can’t feed all of them on organic practices. While there is room for people to enjoy locally-grown farm goods, economies of scale demand that American farmers feed billions of hungry mouths a year.

Agriculture is the lifeblood of many rural communities across Indiana. Farms dot the landscape wherever you travel in Miami County. Rural communities help maintain a viable economy by creating jobs, supporting local businesses and contributing to the tax base.

Over 96% of all farms in America are family farms, which can be large, small, or somewhere in between. I understand that contemporary agriculture doesn’t look like it did in the past. The farm my great-grandfather started doesn’t look like the farm we have today. But we’re not unlike many other industries that have had to become more efficient to survive. The production practices we use are ethically grounded, scientifically verified, and economically viable. They allow us to meet the growing demand for food. My family is proud to help feed the world.