The Farm

So, Stacey's grandpa is a farmer. He has had other jobs during his life in order to have more steady income, but, they have always raised crops and cows--crops consisting mainly of alfalfa and cows always consisting of beef cows. In his retirement, farming is all he does.

We have gone to visit them on the farm many times, and each time I feel the same way. I get this nostalgic feeling of a simpler life where things are not so complicated, and the things that matter seem to matter more.

Let me explain two things that I experienced on this last trip to the farm:

The House: The house where Stacey's grandparents live is very, very old, but has seen a lot of different changes. It is the house her greatgrandfather, grandfather and her mother grew up in. It is on a farm that has been there well over 100 years (a long time for Idaho). It is an interesting house, obviously built first in a different time period, and added on to in even other different periods. One interesting thing is that it has two bathrooms, almost side by side each other. They are both about as far away as they could possibly be from the three bedrooms in the house. Here is a picture of the house, I think taken about 100 years ago.

When Stacey's grandma was explaining this picture, I asked where the brick on the outside went. She gave the story, the brick let moisture in so the paint on the inside would peel off, then they put another layer on that helped, but didn't work all the way, and then they added a third layer on the outside, and their moisture problems went away. These renovations started in the 50s, and yet she knew the full story. It made me think--so many people have problems with small little things these days and they just buy something new. Back then, you fixed it up, wore it out, made it do, or did without. These are different days, with everyone looking to satisfy their desires instantly, often willing to leverage their futures to do so.

The Cows: The cows mean so many different things. I went out with Stacey's grandpa twice to go feed the cows. It was impressive to see him, with all his health problems, loving the cows, and willing to work hard for them. He could pick up the bales of hay and throw them around as if he were a teenager working to make a little extra spending money. (Incidentally, this is what Stacey's uncles did for extra money as teens--they bucked hay.) One of the times were where out there, we had unloaded they hay, and the cows were eating. We were walking away, and getting ready to leave. Grandpa Adams looked at the cows and said, "I think we are missing one," and he walked, slowly and slightly bowlegged, through the cows, recounting them. They were all there. Nevertheless, he knows how many there are, and none will get lost while he is around.

A couple calves were born a couple days ago. It may very well have dipped into the negative numbers these last couple nights--a very cold time to be newborn, wet, and bloody on the farm. But, the new calves do it. There is no barn or anything, they are just born among the trees and the snow, and mostly, they survive. I asked Grandpa Adams if they always survived, and he said that if the cow does a good job licking the calf off, and feeds it right away, that they usually do alright. If they don't lick the calf off, which sometimes happens when it is very, very cold, Grandpa Adams said sometimes he will put the baby calves in the cab of his truck to help them warm up and dry off.

Nevertheless, sometimes, a calf dies. This happened this week, they lost a newborn calf. It was interesting to see Grandma Adams talk to her husband about the calf--she expressed her sorrow, and said she was sad to see it happen. It was apparent it was also something neither of them like, not only because it means less money at selling time, but, it is apparent they have a genuine interest in the welfare of the cows.

As I started to think about this, it presented a very ironic situation. Grandpa Adams loves the cows, he sacrifices for them, works hard to care for them, he knows them, and is sad to see one die. But, every year, a great number of them are slaughtered, and, his freezer is full of beef he raised himself. While ironic, this is natural. This is the way things work on the farm. Society, and my generation in particular, is not willing to deal with such issues. We wont take the good with the bad. We want only good, without having to sacrifice, without having to deal with death, without having to suffer. Such is not the case on the farm.