Living With Purpose

I've always been a people watcher.  Since I can remember, I loved to watch and observe the differences in all of us.  Why do folks do the things they do, think the way they think, etc.?   (I guess it's not surprising I minored in Psychology.)  I think it's all purely fascinating.

I've worked with and been around a lot of different people in my life, but the majority of them have been involved in agriculture, most of them actively farming in some fashion or another.  There are so many different "categories" of ag folks - the farmer (male or female, both very different), the farm wife, the hired man, farm kids, etc.  

 Dad.  (Photo by Martin Burwash)

Let's focus on the farmer for this instance.  What does our mind's eye conjure up when we are told to think of a farmer?  A ball cap?  Overalls?  Rubber boots?  Maybe an old John Deere tractor?  Or, depending on your age, maybe a team of horses in an open field, pulling a plow?  Usually, we all paint a very similar picture in our heads.  My dad is a farmer, as was his father, and his father before him.  I have a lot of experience with farmers.  They're some of the most unique people on the face of the earth, and although each and every one is their own person and they are indeed their own breed of cat, they are oh-so-similar.

Farmers are some of the strongest men I have ever known.  They carry so much on their shoulders.  They are the rocks and cornerstones of so many family dairies, and they deal with so much.  The daily trials and tribulations of a farm - all the little things that can and do go wrong, and that pile up - the stress, the worry, the pressure, and uncertainty,  These are the men who deal with life and death; sometimes in the same day.  Who work through bitter cold and sweltering heat and humidity.  Who get up early to milk cows, so they can ride a tractor all day, only to come back from the fields to milk cows again.  Who wear a rotating hat of plumber, electrician, mechanic, veterinarian, nutritionist, psychiatrist, agronomist, and general contractor.  They have a job to do, and they do it, with no expectation of a thanks or gratitude.  

This isn't to say that these men are cold and heartless, with no feelings at all.  They feel sadness and joy, are passionate about what they do, are proud of their accomplishments, are terribly dedicated, and are capable of love in the purest forms. 

I was thinking about it this afternoon, and this blog started writing its self.  I love the childlike excitement that comes over these same stoic men when it comes to certain parts of farming.  These are the guys who are overjoyed with a heifer calf from of a special mating, who are delighted at a cow scoring well, and they are the ones who understand the importance of family being there for it all.  These fleeting expressions of emotion show that these unflappable men, who are tired and dirty, and depending on the day frustrated and stressed, do what they do because they love it.  It is for these special moments.  The ones that seem so insignificant to others, but mean the world to them.  They're the little bits and pieces that soften them, that peel back the thick layers of calluses, sweat, and grime and show the passion inside.  I think it's special.  There aren't many people who get to see these rare glimspes.