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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Coincidence or not, virtually every married couple I know that is comprised of two farm - or small-town - raised persons is thoroughly enjoying as close to an ideal life as can be expected in this day and age - it's certainly worked for my wife and I for 50 wonderful years - A few small clouds were drifting through a brisk October morning...sort o’ playin’ peek-a-boo with those of us below... When Dad glanced up - doffed his cap - and threatened...“Won’t be long ‘til all the trees have lost their leaves an’ we’ll be gettin’ snow!” Farmers have a knack, ya’ know, for knowin’ things like that...an’ Dad, and his dad, always knew - before the news would say - If and when a storm was comin’ - when to close the windows - and if there’d be a need for puttin’ certain things away. Just a couple years ago - the way it will in May - the temperature was runnin’ back an’ forth twixt cold and warm, When Grandpa Virgil leaned inside the shop and hollered out, “Better bring the combine in...we’re in for quite a storm!” Cats an’ dogs for thirty minutes - golf-ball hail for ten - with winds that tore some shingles off the old machine shed roof, And when it fin’ly moved away, we drove around the farmyard taking shots - lots of shots - of what we’d need for proof. No one had been hurt, thank God, and, yes...he had insurance...but as we slowly made the rounds - with me there in between - The utter devastation to the buildings - and the crops - brought a look in both their eyes that I had never seen! Neither one had wept in front of me since Granny’d died, but seein’ the cistern lyin’ there - all busted up...they did! Grandpa yanked his hankie out, as Dad was takin’ pictures, figurin’, if he used it well, he’d keep his feelings hid. But handkerchiefs are only good for three specific things: Wipin’ sweat - blowin’ your nose, and dabbin’ up your tears. The first two options aren’t traumatic - every farmer does ‘em, but - when you’re in the presence of a child of seven years - Most will try, and rightly so, to minimize the harm that bursting into tears in front of real young kids can do, And, still today, their teary eyes, from all those years ago, come around to testify that what they say is true. But seein’ Dad and Granddad crying helped me understand that even grownups suffer blows that knock them off their feet, And taught me that - by working as a team...if given time...very little comes along that fam’lies can’t defeat. By mid-July the corn and wheat had made a full recovery...the roof was lookin’ good as new…the cistern was rebuilt... And - taken by a guy who dusted crops, the aerial photo showed what - from the sky - looked like a gold and emerald quilt. Something else that farmers have a knack for doing well is making wise, decisive moves...regardless what that is... And having worked like hell to earn and - carry on - his dream, today what Father helped him farm for fifty years - is his. And while his siblings sought their goal in “Life” by other means - choosing paths they felt would lead to that for which they yearned - Even those who wandered off had known the special care that comes with being “farmer-raised”, and...steered by what they’d learned... Guided by the greatest, well-intended love there is...one that always tried its best to help them make their way... Know, without exception, there are anxious arms at “Home” that long to hold them just as tight as those who chose to stay. See...lives within the rural world are built on “fam’ly” concepts...hard to find outside the realms of tiny towns and farms... And often those who’ve rolled the dice and chosen urban worlds will far more inconsistently enjoy their parents’ arms. “Home” - despite how meager - is, of course, that person’s root...and how conditions nurture us affects the way we grow... But I can guarantee you, friend...being “farmer-raised”...again without exception...is the finest way I know! Check out my many books and 4 new CDs at - writerofbooks.com, or more access to my verse on both YouTube and Ebay. Cheers, Mark
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