All By Myself…With Lots of Help

Julie was out of town last week. She left me…for 4 days. 4 days. 4 long days. Lonely, sleepless nights waking up and wondering why she is not next to me…over and over every night. She is supposed to be next to me. She is always next to me.

But I was on my own.

All on my own.

By myself.

Just me.

If my mom and her mom hadn’t cooked us dinner we would have starved. Mom even served us steak and sweet potatoes on Wednesday!

Yup. Just me. All by myself.

Dad kept water in front of the chickens while I was at work.

Cause I was all alone last week. Farming by myself. Without any help at all…except for all of the people who did all of the work.

All kidding aside, it was pretty rough. It’s not just that Julie was missing, it’s that with Julie gone the kids couldn’t help around the house during the day…cause they went to Grandma’s. So we were behind on housework too.

I openly acknowledge that the farm hinges on Julie but WOW! Just wow! When she is gone everything changes from difficult but tolerable to hard nearing impossible. I would get home from work and start collecting eggs, moving cows, carrying feed, doing laundry, washing dishes…who has time to eat? Even if mom made tacos for dinner Friday…I just didn’t have the time.

And nobody cooked breakfast while I did chores in the morning.

And nobody packed my lunch while I was getting ready for work.

So I didn’t eat.

And I didn’t sleep.

And I missed her. A lot.

I didn’t want to eat or sleep. I just wanted her to come home. Today’s texting was fairly typical. Farm work, relationship work, more farm work…

Texting

I know there are single parents out there. I know there are even single parents with jobs. There may even be single parents with jobs and farms too. Single parents with jobs and farms who don’t live near family. And I tip my hat to them. I don’t know how they do it.

And while I certainly missed eating and sleeping, I just missed her. Our youngest cried on our bed with her face smashed into Julie’s pillow saying the pillow smelled like mommy. I know just how she felt. This isn’t about food or gathering eggs or housework. I missed my friend Julie.

I don’t know. Maybe that’s weird. Maybe I’m too clingy. But we are a team. We are united in a common vision. And when she’s gone…it’s like…it’s like I can’t see the vision clearly anymore. Or that the vision doesn’t matter when she is away.

But she’s home now. And I need to sleep.

tired

 

Live Like Common Farmers

My writing persona would lead the reader to believe I have been down lately. Maybe I have been but, if so, I think it was due to our recent illness. Among other things, that cold was an effective weight-loss strategy. Let’s count our blessings today beginning with an extreme contrast.

Look, I get it. It’s an expression of hopelessness and frustration and anger at a feeling of impotence and the lack of understanding by tourists who think they can pretend to belong. Let’s focus on the chorus.

You will never understand
What it means to live your life
With no meaning or control

When you’re laying in bed at night
Watching roaches climb the wall
If you called your dad he could stop it all

You know, I don’t think I’ll ever understand what it means to live my life with no meaning or control. I am not a slave. And, honestly, there are any number of people, including my dad, I can count on for help.

And maybe that’s what saddens me most about the song. The singer is lonely. He claims to dance and drink and screw because there is nothing else to do…not because that’s a recipe for a fun Saturday night. And maybe there is nothing else to do. And maybe nobody cares. Maybe there are no jobs, no food and no escaping the trap…like the siege of Sarajevo. But mostly the song is about loneliness and envy and loss of community. And I think that’s sad.

I have spent a lot of time writing about my relationship with Julie and how that relationship rates in importance above the farm, above my job, above almost everything else. Even above the children. My relationship with Julie will last, potentially, another 50 years after my children move into homes of their own. Only my relationship with God will last longer.

PastureWalk

But I have to invest in other relationships as well. That word “invest” is carefully chosen. I don’t have any money. Whatever you think of me, whoever you think I am, whatever your perception of my lifestyle, I don’t have any money. None. I have a few cattle. I borrow my farm from the bank. Our one vehicle has 173,000 miles on it. But I am fantastically, amazingly rich because I have surrounded myself with people who genuinely care about me. And because I have a library card…and Amazon Prime…but let’s not focus on that right now.

Let’s start with my parents. I love my parents. I love my mother. Do you know what I hate more than anything? I hate fixing computers. I would rather go to the dentist. But I’ll work on my mom’s computer because I love her. And I know she loves me. My dad is quite probably my best friend…though I don’t quite have a peer relationship with him because that’s not how it works. But I can talk to my dad about anything. Whatever is going on he has always been there. He has always been supportive and solid and secure. Anything I need…anything at all. Dad is there. And my parents have continued to love me through some pretty rough stuff.

I am under the impression that not everyone maintains loving relationships with their family as was illustrated by the song above.

And it goes far beyond family. Julie and I have surrounded ourselves with a community that loves us. My goodness, friends came over Saturday to help us butcher chickens. Now that’s friendship! How can I ever repay the Carpenters? I don’t know. But that’s a problem worthy of my attention. One problem we are facing, as I related in a recent post, is our distance and isolation from many of our friends. We have to make time for others in our busy schedule. We have to make time to drive to town. Not only do I have to take Julie on dates from time to time, I have to make time to sit and play cards. Make time to visit. Make time to listen. We have to make time…this is not something I am good at. We have to put our phones down, stop doing chores and just be in the moment with our spouse, our family and with our community. It’s hard but it’s important.

Because I have friends and family I will never understand what it means to live my life with no meaning or control. I am reasonably confident that if I’m in need, if I have made a series of bad decisions or am simply down on my luck I can call someone for help.

And that’s how agriculture works. If you want to live like common farmers do, you help friends and family with their computer problems and you help butcher chickens and you hang drywall. You celebrate children’s birthdays. You invest in people. You plant seeds in people’s lives and harvest the reward…love. Sometimes love is expressed in the form of help getting the hay in the barn or the chicken in the freezer.

That’s how you live like a common farmer. That’s how you get through the hard work. You lean on your loved ones. You laugh together. You work together. You happily sacrifice your own wants in preference to their needs…knowing it will come back to you many times over.

I have to hope that the common person illustrated in the song – a suffering, lonely person drowning in a sea of suffering, lonely people – finds meaningful connections with others. Money won’t cure envy. Education won’t stop you from feeling like a victim.

If you want true wealth, plant seeds in other people’s lives. And cast a little bread upon the water.

Sick Day

Friday

Co-worker: “Yeah, she’s out today. Looks like she got that cough that has been going around the office.”

Me: “Cough? But I had a meeting with her yesterday.”

Fast forward to Saturday night.

Guess I got it too.

I’ll publish my reading journal tomorrow. I’m going back to bed.

I don’t take many sick days. Don’t count it against me.

My Valentine

January 29, 2015

It’s going to happen again. Valentine’s day. Julie’s February birthday. Shoot. I need to plan for that somehow. Two weeks.

Two weeks.

Two.

Weeks.

No idea what to do this year. Chocolate covered strawberries?

February 1, 2015

I still don’t know what to do. Just…you know. And you do know, don’t you? I love you. I love you a lot.

When we read Love Languages we identified what yours is. But that’s not mine…so I don’t know how to do it. Quality time? What do I do? Just hang out? I have stuff to do. Can’t we go do that stuff…but together? Doesn’t that count?

Probably not.

February 2, 2015

I have daughters!

Now what? OK. Maybe I could give them a block of diamonds in Minecraft? I could code in an unbreaking pick axe for both. Hmmm. What are their love languages? The older girl likes to cook. Acts of service? The younger one is a snuggle bunny. She likes to be with me, holding my hand when walking. She usually gets up when I do and she stays near me. But the older one? What is her language? How can I make her understand that I love her? How can I meet her at her level? Bake cookies together? Zucchini bread?

February 4, 2015

Julie, do you know that I love you? I love you every day. Why do I feel all this pressure on some arbitrary day in the winter? I love you.

February 6, 2015

Julie found this in my drafts, read it and asked me to omit certain details. Particularly a note about how great she looked in her workout clothes. So I took that out. But still, she looks great.

February 13, 2015

Shoot. It’s here. It happened. There was some discussion about going out to dinner or going to a church activity or something. That’s not what I had in mind. I thought we could get a couple of steaks and a bottle of wine and just spend the evening together at home. She got some steaks from Steve today and asked me to pick up a bottle of wine on my way home. Wine is difficult. I could get the $5 bottle of funky stuff that smells like a wrung out gym sock or the $10 bottle of funky stuff that smells like a wrung out gym sock or the $4 bottle of sweet red who knows what that doesn’t taste too bad and isn’t too sweet. $4 it is then. What a great date I am.

What about the girls?

Let’s revisit that chocolate-covered strawberry thing. Maybe that’s something I could do with the kids. I think “With” is more important than “For”. With. OK. Good deal. Need a bag of white chocolate chips and a bag of milk chocolate chips.

OK. The whole Valentines Day, Dad/Husband thing is in good shape.

If you haven’t figured out Valentine’s day for yourself I’ll leave you with some words of wisdom from Brak.

An Hour’s Worth of Sunday

I needed to fill the cow’s water tanks. I couldn’t do this early in the morning when I do my normal chores because (sigh) my hoses were frozen. It takes about 40 minutes to fill three tanks if I use different hydrants to fill two at once. What can I do with that time? Stare at the cows?

StaringAtCows

The cows are grazing in strips. I lay out a north-south strip roughly 40 paces wide and give them access to roughly 20 paces worth of pasture each day until we get through it. In addition to that, I maintain a corridor at the south fence line so the cows have access to mineral and water in a place that is fairly convenient to Julie and me as long as we keep the hoses well-drained on a slope. Which I didn’t do on Saturday. Anyway…

SlowFill1

So I have most of an hour to kill. Cows are going to need a new strip. That’s not Julie’s favorite job but I think it’s fun. I start at the north end of the property because I want my spool at the south end. That allows for the ever-growing corridor to water and mineral. I stepped 40 paces off of the current fence to find my starting position.

StartOfRow

I didn’t bring my fence remote with me so I can’t attach the fence at this time. But I don’t really need to yet.

StartOfRow2

Then I looked in the distance to try to find a target that looked roughly 40 paces from the other end of the current fence.

Trees

If you start at the thicket on the left and count over a few trees to the right you’ll come to a rounded cluster of sassafrass trees way over ther together. There’s a dark one in the center of the clump I’ll shoot for.

ThisTree

Let’s pause for a moment. I know a pace is not a standard unit of measure. It’s only marginally helpful to the reader for me to say that. I have a bakers dozen cows on pasture and I’m giving them an additional 60×120 each day. But the cows aren’t out there with a tape measure or a transit. The precision comes by watching the animals. Are they full? Are they clean? Are they calling out for dinner or are they grunting and burping? What are they leaving behind? Is the ground scalped or did they leave a protective blanket on the soil? That’s how you measure. It happens that I carry my feet with me so I use those to help guide me.

Burp

So I walked through hill and dale, leaving a string behind me. Always aiming for the tree in the distance…a tree I couldn’t always see.

NoTree

Once I arrived at the southern fence I stepped off the gap between old and new…45 paces. Not bad. I mean, horrible from a percentage perspective but cows don’t calculate percentages. Good enough is good enough.

ReelsApart

So I checked my water tank. A few minutes remaining.

NotFull

With 15 posts in hand I headed off to the north placing a post every 12th pace. Well, 12 or so. I wasn’t really placing the posts, I was just spearing them into the ground. I’ll come back later with a hammer to drive them into the frozen earth.

15Posts

15 got me halfway so I went back for more. While I was up there I moved the hose to the other trough.

SpearedIn

It’s important to fence the ditches to contain the cattle. I do want the cows to cross the ditches, pushing earth around so the ditch becomes wide and shallow, rather than steep and deep. I want the water to meander slowly on its way, not cut into the earth violently. I could do this with a bulldozer but the cows are here so…

CutInPasture

I’m a little particular about placing my insulators at ditches. I always want both forks of the insulator to touch the wire. That’s not possible in the dip but at the edges it’s no big whoop. I’m sorry if that is unclear. See how the insulators on each side of the creek face opposite directions? If they were turned the other way, on each side the wire would only be held by one hook. So any passing deer could easily knock my fence off of the insulator. After that the whole fence would short out as the wire rests against the metal post. This one small change ensures that the insulator will hang on to the wire as the deer bends the post, stretches the fence wire then releases somewhat magically as the string tension launches the insulator through the air to be found some time in the spring.

Insulators

I stepped off the remaining pasture. If the weather holds we’ll finish up that pasture in mid-February. Then I’ll take the cows north of the hog building. There’s not a lot of pasture back there but I really want to clean that field up and I need the cows to help me find saplings, stumps and odd bits of junk.

HogLot

Anyway, for now we are going from over there to over here.

RemainingPasture

By this time all of my tanks were full. I disconnected my hoses and left the posts speared in the ground until later in the afternoon. I like the cows to go to bed with full water tanks so I came back around 4:00 with the kids to top things off and drive the posts.

WaterHelpers

The kids needed to go outside and play. Barn cats are valid playmates.

Zippy

We left mom at home though. After about 20 minutes the hoses were drained again, the chickens were watered, the eggs collected, the fence completed, the cows had hay and we made monster shadows.

MonsterShadows

The cows stayed on the hill.

DisapprovingCows

We crossed the old bridge and ran up the hill.

OldBridge

I mean we ran. The kids were pretending to be in Minecraft and imagined that the darkening skies would soon allow skeletons and zombies and giant spiders to spawn. It helps to play through our day.

The Seventh Generation

  1. William Chism
  2. John Marion Chism
  3. William Chism
  4. Charles Chism
  5. Thomas Chism
  6. Rosemary Chism Jordan
  7. Chris Jordan

I am the seventh. Mom pointed that out to me as we were chatting recently. I am the seventh generation on this farm. We often hear discussion about Seven Generation Sustainability and we should think about how we will impact people 140 years into the future. But we can’t begin to imagine the world ten years from now, let alone 140 years from now.

From mom’s blog, “William was born in Virginia on Dec.12, in either 1798 or 1800.” In my case 140 years only goes back 5 generations to when great grandpa Charlie was born. (Charlie is second from the right in the back next to his brother Tom who, in that picture, looks EXACTLY like my grandpa Tom. Maybe less shoulder than grandpa.)

Think about what this all means. That mink I caught in my chicken house a few years back? William, John, William or Charlie’s chickens may have terrorized by that mink’s ancestor.

That hedge tree I hate and plan to cut? It’s ancestor may have been purposefully planted here by William.

Charlie built the white barn 100 years ago. Did he expect it to last this long? Dick built my house. Grandpa built ponds, corrals, loading chutes, more barns. What will I leave?

Patria.

The Fatherland.

Do you know anyone who has as strong of a connection to the land as me? Not even the King ranch! Not only did they own it, most of my mother’s fathers are buried here. We have carved rocks to prove it.

Patria. Patriot. Patriotic. My 60 acres, ’tis of thee.

Will we still be here on the fatherland in seven generations?

I don’t know.

I can’t know.

I’m not even sure it’s important.

But I’ll tell you this – and I say this from the perspective of someone who is almost as deeply rooted as any American can be – I don’t think William bought a farm to fix his descendants in one place for all of time. In fact, though we modern folk read Laura Ingalls Wilder and swoon, I don’t think William saw the farm as anything other than a means to an end.

Let’s revisit Illinois in 1834. Illinois is a state but there is more land available on the continent than there are people to settle it. Europe is pouring itself into the US. Jefferson wrote quite a bit about the lack of opportunity for private land ownership in France and those who could were leaving their father’s rocks and hopping on a boat. So, while owning the means of production is important – and it is – the specific land we are currently parked on is less so. For some reason William, born in Virginia, moved to Kentucky then on to Illinois. My understanding is they were frozen out the first winter, returned to Kentucky and came back again. So they had some mobility and some tenacity.

Somewhere along the line prior to William the Chism family left Scotland and changed the spelling of their name. I met a man from Scotland recently and he joked with mom and dad that the Chism clan are midland Scots…I think he meant that to be a somewhat derogatory joke but it went over my head. And it doesn’t matter because I’m not Scottish. Nor am I German. Or Irish. Or whatever. But the point is my ancestors left their PATRIA! And why? Why did they abandon the rocks that marked the graves of their fathers? Because their prospects looked better elsewhere. What dead father wants to make his children suffer in proximity of said rocks?

So what is this farm? If we assume, and I think we can, that this farm represented a measure of hope, a feeling of place and the means of production for a family relocating from Kentucky…then what were William’s thoughts about me? …about the farm?I have no idea. William died long before I was born and I am not aware of his journals but I have to believe his thinking was not dissimilar to my own.

I have an attachment to my farm. I live in my grandma’s house. We put our dishes in cabinets she built. Our wood stove is in an addition built by a cousin of my grandpa’s. The house was built by a great-great uncle. We watch TV in a room built by my father. Most of the family is buried 200 yards from my back door. As a child I rode grandpa’s three-wheeler all over the farm. My cousin Kate and I ran down the hill and played in the creek (downstream from the hog floor…in retrospect, yuk). I remember the one time she touched the electric fence well. I have been in this house every Christmas of my life but one. I have an emotional attachment to my farm. I owe the bank a bunch of money for my farm…so I have a legal attachment too.

But what about my children?

This hasn’t been a post about chickens or cows or pigs or manure. This is a post about purpose!

My farm is a place, not a purpose. The chickens, cows, pigs and manure are just the means. Land forces us to work hard and save money but the children are our wealth. The children are the ends…even when covered in silly string.

SillyString

If William Chism had time to wonder about the seventh generation, I have to believe his thoughts were less about farmland and more about family. Would there be a seventh generation? Not just generations formed by boys and girls doing what boys and girls do but intentional families. Julie and I are intentional about family. Our parents are intentional about family. My grandma and grandpa Chism were intentional about family. Aunt Marian was intentional about her family…even if we weren’t her kids. Mom has memories of her intentional grandmother. My dad’s grandmother lived with us for a while when I was a kid (hilarious!). The culture of our family is not an accident and while it is true that there wouldn’t be Christmas memories in this house if Uncle Dick or a grandma Chism or grandpa’s cousin or my dad hadn’t built it, the house is the least important part of that list.

In some recent writing I have focused more on my kids and less on my business and that is entirely on purpose. I have an amazing and challenging job in town…a job that I don’t plan to leave any time soon. In fact, I like my job so much that I do it on my vacation time. The Chris Jordan you see on this blog is hardly Chris Jordan at all…but then again it is. The real Chris Jordan is absolutely fascinated by farming, that’s true. So much so that he journals what he is learning on an almost daily basis.

But the real Chris Jordan is even more fascinated by his wife and children. And as he lists his hopes for 140 years from now the well-being of his family rank far above his hopes for the well-being of the farmland he lives on.

My ancestors once moved out of Scotland. My children or grandchildren may move away from the farm…or even the US. That’s how it is.

We may not have the farm in another 140 years. But will there still be a family? Will our family culture persist? Or will there just be children?

William Chism succeeded.

Will I?

Meet Them Where They Are

Kari has been asking for a post about marketing. I have to do this two ways and both are more conceptual than concrete. (I may offer more concrete examples another time but I think that subject is already saturated.) First we’ll discuss Marketing for Business then Marketing for Sustainability. You’ll see how those two ideas differ as we go but there is one thing in common: You have to meet your customers where they are.

Marketing for Business

Customers won’t come find you. They won’t magically appear at your farm gate and they won’t make immediate and radical changes to their buying habits. It seems easier to convince someone to change religions than to convince them to change diets. You have to find them where they are. Offer them something that looks like their concept of food but is superior in every way.

But sometimes…just sometimes…someone will go through some sort of crisis. They may join a gym or read a book about Paleo or something and suddenly they have stopped buying donuts. With all that disposable income and the encouragement of their newfound literature and peer support groups they will begin to ask, “Where can I buy a whole chicken and what do I do with it? What is a deep freezer? How do I cook with an oven?” They will ask friends at they gym, friends at work, friends at church. Somebody knows somebody. That somebody may know you. And that’s the best way…word of mouth. But you have to start somewhere. I have gotten years of business from customers and, later, their friends by initially giving away a single dozen eggs. There are times when we are swamped with eggs and we don’t know what to do with them all. So we give eggs away. At this point we throw a free dozen into a customer’s order if they will promise to pass a second free dozen to a friend. That normally results in a new customer…if you have dotted your i’s.

I don't know who took this picture. No idea. I just know the orange eggs are mine.

I don’t know who took this picture. No idea. I just know the orange eggs are mine.

How do you dot the i in an egg? People don’t talk about ordinary products. Ordinary products are just too ordinary. You have to bring the WOW! to get word of mouth. Soon you’ll see pictures of your food on FB or Instagram. Customers will text you pictures of your eggs frying next to “Free-Range, Organic Brown eggs from the store” and will express wonder at how pale the competitor’s egg is. But the truth is that store egg is not your competition. In fact you don’t have competition. If those are eggs then you produce something else. Same with chicken. Same with pork. Same with beef. That product you have is so superior to what people are used to…it’s like you are producing something else. Not a commodity, real food. Real quality. And people will talk about it.

Three years ago our van was stolen (and 5 dozen eggs in a nice small cooler!). I searched for its replacement on CraigsList. We took the whole family on the test drive with the owner. As I merged on to Lindbergh he said, “So…what do you do?”

“I am a computer guy. But we have a farm and raise chickens, turkeys, goats and pigs on pasture.”

Fast forward a few minutes.

“Chris, that was the most interesting test drive I have ever been on. I’m sold. How can I buy your product?”

Turns out he is a foodie.

Three years later he is still buying from us. He has given eggs to friends, neighbors and co-workers. He buys and smokes chickens and turkeys. He makes soup with our spent layers. He buys pigs and splits them with neighbors. He builds my customer base every time he changes jobs. We can count on him to spread the word. In a way, he is a partner in our growing business and has become a friend. And he’s not the only enthusiastic customer we have.

Several times he has pulled me aside and said, “Chris, I bought a chicken from X or from Y but they aren’t the same.” Heck, he continues to buy our eggs even though he belongs to a CSA that includes eggs. He says ours are better.

So, it’s all about the quality.

But if it’s all about quality it is also all about the price. Keep in mind there are alternatives on the market and remember cost has nothing to do with price. Cost is important to you, the producer. Prices are set by the market. Customers have price expectations. They expect to pay more for quality but you can’t be too far out of line. Consumers are price sensitive and allowing for that puts you in position to meet them where they are…to at least get within waving distance.

That said, there is a theory that if you’re having trouble moving product you should raise your prices. If nothing else the higher price gives your product a psychological advantage. Also, I can tell you from experience, customers are thankful when you lower prices and hateful when you raise them. Try to start at the high end of what the market will bear. We started too low (cause we didn’t add up our costs and allow a margin).

We make quality products and charge what customers indicate are reasonable prices. We rely on word of mouth and give out free samples in times of surplus. If you can do that while operating efficiently your business will grow. That’s all there is to it. Give away a few eggs to get the door open. Then sell a chicken to get your foot in the door. Then, before you know it, you are in the kitchen and, later, selling beef, pork, lamb and chicken to the whole neighborhood.

As long as you can keep up with the workload.

Marketing for Sustainability

What will happen to the farm when I’m gone? My labor? My dreams? My herds and flocks, the trees I planted…who will care for them? Who will continue the work here? I fear the vision is becoming hazy. Where I used to feel invincible I am often intimidated by the staggering amount of work ahead of me. Our dream (a dream I have in common with my ancestors) needs an injection of fresh blood. Youth. Energy! I am a steward, not an owner. I await the next steward.

Stacking

We will never be sustainable unless new generations stand up and take the reins at regular intervals. That takes serious marketing success or they will all move away. The farm will be sold and, worse, spent. I need my children to buy into the dream, to share our vision and to move things forward. So let’s share some vision.

You know what I want? I want to spread manure on the pastures to build up future fertility so we have more nutritious, more drought-resistant forages, healthier cows that breed back every year and a beautiful place to spend our lives together. I want birds and ponds and fish and frogs and snakes and ducks. I want blueberries and gooseberries and raspberries and dewberries and strawberries. I want hazelnuts and walnuts and hickory nuts. I want cows and pigs and chickens and foxes and raccoons…well, maybe not raccoons. I want painted buildings in good repair full of feed and bedding. I want a beautiful, welcoming farm that family and friends can visit to feel refreshed. I want an efficient, smaller home with an open floor plan that is easy to heat, easy to cool, easy to clean and comfortable to entertain in and I want the house filled with our children and their children and laughter and games and food and lots and lots and lots of books.

How do I get there?

I go where my customers are now. I meet their needs where they are. Right now.

My kids are playing Minecraft right now. Even if they aren’t actually playing the game I promise at least two of them are sitting with graph paper and designing the castles they will build next time they can play. The others are reading library books either on the couch near the fire or on the couch in the front room near the electric heater. What books? I don’t know. They read so fast it’s almost impossible for me to even keep track…but I still try. My two older kids usually read at least a book each day (the library limits us to 70 books at a time…per card, BTW).

So that’s where my sustainability customers are.

Now, I could leave my kids there. They would be entertained, I could get some work done…or do some reading…or take a nap. But did Julie and I have kids so we could keep the computer busy all day? They aren’t an accidental by-product of recreational activity! No. We had kids because WE WANTED KIDS!

We wanted to be asked “Why?” questions and we wanted to clean up messes and we wanted to spend decades growing with and learning about them. What are they like? Who are they on the inside? What do they like to eat? What are they interested in doing?

You know what they are interested in doing? Right now they are interested in a specific game. So I am also interested in that game.

Why?

Because that’s how marketing works. If your customers want to play golf you play golf. If they want dinner, you go to dinner. If they want to build floating castles in the sky out of emeralds you go to your crafting table and make a pickaxe.

I need to build real connections with my customer base. This is more than just appreciation for the quality food at a reasonable price. This is me inspiring my children to achieve more than I can.

I’m taking the first step. I’m giving. Reaching out. I can’t wait for them to come to me…they might out of a sense of obligation but obligation doesn’t inspire vision.

But let’s say none of my children want anything to do with the farm as adults. OK. Let’s say that. It hurts me but we can pretend. Then what? Then I go to plan B: Grandchildren, nieces and nephews. It worked for my grandma. But what if I had no siblings and no children of my own? Then what? Then it’s incumbent on me to go out and find a protege. To mentor someone. To pass on our vision and continue the dream.

BaleWalking

I have to go to them. I have to give away the best eggs in the world. I have to be generous with my time. I have to go short on sleep to go long on parenting. I have to read what they are reading and play what they are playing and continuously build connections over the decades. I have to make time to serve the people who matter the most and wash their feet. (I don’t know that I’ve every heard Jesus used as a sales example but it applies. The idea is that He came to us.)

I have to meet them where they are.

Dear 100 Years From Now

I have no idea who Susan A. Chism was. Only this bit of information I got from mom’s blog. Brace yourself.

Susan was the blind daughter of William and Sarrah W. Chism. The story is she was carrying scissors and fell.

 

SusanAChism2

Don’t run with scissors, kids. I guess I know a little more. Susan was the daughter of William and Sarrah. William and Sarrah were my grandpa’s great grandparents. And I guess they lived here..or near here. Uncle Jack said there was something of a rift torn between family members and between neighbors when Susan sold a portion of the farm. I’ll come back to that.

One reason I know so little about my great, great, great, great aunt is because there were no blogs. Ever wonder why I blog? Maybe part of the reason is because I don’t want to be forgotten.

What will my great, great, great, great nephew know about me in 100 years? Today I will write a letter to that generation…assuming the internet archive will still be available at that time. Who knows though. This may be the Betamax version of the internet, soon to be made obsolete. (I’ll include a link to explain what Betamax means. Kids today…) Back on point, what did I inherit from Susan A. Chism? What vision did she cast into my life? Heck, what vision did grandpa cast into my life? That’s hard to pin down. I live in my grandpa’s house but I lived 100 miles away from here until I was almost 17. Grandpa died when I was 21. How much did grandpa teach me about farming? Not much. How much vision did grandpa share with me? What legacy did he leave?

Grandpa was always pushing to recognize, learn and embrace new trends and opportunities in agriculture. He loved us unconditionally. I remember grandpa laughing and smiling. I remember the last conversation I had with him, across the room from where I sit as I type this. I asked him if I could name my first son after him. He said he hated the name Chester then laughed.

With that out of the way let’s begin casting vision into the generations to come. I have the chance to do something Susan A. Chism couldn’t.

My family,

I have so much to say to you I hardly know where to begin. I want to keep this letter focused on a main theme but I have to touch on one other thing. Never sell land. That was reinforced in a book I’m reading about the King ranch right now and also in the story uncle Jack told me about my great (x4) aunt Susan, (not his wife aunt Susan).

There are a good number of you children I have never met. Or if I have, I don’t remember it. Julie and I brought four children into the world. Our plan was to have six but…well, plans change. You, my children, are my treasure. The land, chickens, cattle, books? Worthless. They can all go. They don’t matter. You matter. You, children, are why we are here. Do I have land so I can have cattle or do I have cattle because I have land? I don’t know. I do know that the land and cattle are an enhancement to our lives together. I have them because I have you. However, I hope you make time to read the books. I know they are old-fashioned but they offer you a way to connect with your grandmother and me. I hope some of you own books that I owned, as I own books that aunt Marian owned. Julie and I along with our four children (currently aged 8-14) sat around the fire during a snowstorm reading on a Sunday at Thanksgiving. It was awesome but not unusual. We love books. But we love you more.

You may not believe it but I was once young and had a sense of humor. As we said then, “I know, right?” One favorite joke was writing under the pen name Head Farm Steward. As we said then, “LOL!” I’m not the head of anything…maybe the labor department. The farm doesn’t have a head. It has a team. That joke was originally sourced from a series of books about a cowdog named Hank, the head of ranch security. Within the next two years, my oldest son (your uncle, great-uncle, great-great-uncle, father, grandfather or great-grandfather) will have the opportunity to call himself by that joking title. Should he choose to accept I will relinquish the title and crown him the new Head Farm Steward and devote more of my time to composting animal manure or writing more on the blog…but I repeat myself. I hope one or more of you have continued that tradition. With luck, one of you has given the title meaning…you are actually the head of something. Maybe 20 of you have land of your own and work to coordinate your methods and marketing, expanding our vision into a vast family empire. We are counting on you or your spouses to do just that. To what extent have you succeeded? What is the next step? Somebody speak up. We are counting on you.

And why, you ask, do I want you to own land? Read Gone with the Wind. Let me spell it out. Land is worth owning. Land gives you a tie…a place to put down roots. A home. Sentimental attachment. There is a giant tree on the next hill over that my grandpa said was was big when he was a kid. That memory spans the years. Land spans the years. Land carries wealth through the years. Land gives you the option to produce something. You can plant. You can tend. You can harvest. You can eat. You can pay your taxes. But back to the theme, you can build memories with your children. You can shoot at targets, you can identify frogs and snakes and birds and spiders. You can learn and work together. If that’s not enough, there are any number of places we could put our money but land offers a measure of permanence. You can’t drink it. You can’t eat it. You can’t burn it. It remains. I hope you are all land owners, wherever you live. I hope you use your land to be productive, not simply for recreation. Not simply lawn space. I hope you are good stewards, working to multiply your blessings within your community.

Grandpa Tree

Home schooling our children seemed, at the time, to be the best option. It gave each of our children the opportunity for self-directed learning and gave us time to enjoy having them around. We had our children because we wanted children. Turns out, we made the right choice. What choices have you made? I don’t care if you choose to teach your children yourselves, send them to grandma Julie’s house to learn or send them to public school. Don’t care. I care that we learn…all of us. I imagine a grandchild having a story like this to relate to the family:

I nearly lived at Grandma and Grandpa’s house as a child. Grandma Julie home schooled us all as much as she could. Sure, mom was involved but grandma was the driving force. Grandpa would stop in to see what we were learning. Sometimes he would argue with grandma and with us about what we were learning…even questioning the basis of arithmetic. He had these crazy ideas like “2+2 is a waste of everyone’s time. The assumption is that we are adding two groups of two identical units but what’s the fun in that? Try to add two cows and two horses. What do you get? Two cows and two horses. Turn them over. Try it again. No difference, just unhappy animals.” Or when we were studying the industrial revolution, “If employers were such jerks, why didn’t people leave the factories and just go back to the farms? Maybe because people always choose the best option available? Maybe farms were worse than factories at that time. What can we learn from that?”

At age 8 I really didn’t understand what grandpa was talking about. In fact, at age 90 I’m still not sure. But I remember his laughable efforts to say something profound each day.

Do you appreciate your children? Are children a burden or a blessing? What are you teaching them about themselves? It doesn’t matter who they go to for their three R’s, they learn more from you. Do you love them? Do you know them? Do you know how they want to be loved? Find the book The Five Love Languages on my bookshelf. My grandma left red lipstick on my face in trade for cookies. Grandma Chism was all about physical affection. My great aunt Marian was into giving gifts and found joy in making clothes and food every chance she got. My father was less into snuggling and more into helping. Acts of service define his caring. Julie is all about the quality time. But you know what means the most to me (today anyway)? Words of affirmation. I need to hear them. I don’t want to be left to assume I’m an idiot. I want to be told there is hope for me. That God has a plan for my life. That I was created for a purpose. Take a few minutes to learn how to love each other…to learn how to be understood.

Beyond that? I don’t know. The farm is home. Whatever else happens, wherever else we (you) go, this is home. We (you) are safe here. We (you) have purpose here. I am planting trees you will harvest from but that’s not the real harvest. You are the real harvest. I have cows for several reasons. First, I think I can get a better return on my investment in cattle than I can from a savings account. Second, it’s something to do with the kids. Third, I feel can make a small contribution to making the world a better place with cattle, both in terms of food quality and in terms of environmental quality. But look at #1 and #3 again. Those are about you kids. Why do I want money? To further our family’s intellectual and emotional development. Why do I want a better environment? Did you really just ask me that question? What kind of world do you live in 100 years from now? I live in a world of muddy rivers and dead zones in the gulf of Mexico. I live in a world that punishes people who save money…who accumulate wealth. We look down on intelligence. We scoff at people with more than two children and “support” our kids by watching them play soccer. Heavens! we certainly don’t play soccer with them. No. We stand around with the other parents while our kids stand with the kids. One must respect the class system. Kids go to school, adults go to work. That’s the way.

That may be the norm in the outer world but it is not the norm in our world. You are our world. You are with us. You want to play legos? I want to play legos. You want to finger paint? I want to finger paint. You want to build a go-kart? You want to build a robot? You want to build a robot that builds go-karts? I’m game. Let’s go now because in about an hour I have to move the herd. Want to come with me in the helicopter? We are a family. We are united but we are not the same. We are not all interested in the same things. But we share a common goal: family. We do different things but we share resources. Your kids want to go to college? Ask the family counsel for financial assistance. You need to take a few weeks off to heal up or to write that book you’ve been meaning to write? Let us invest in you. Turn to us for help…then help when it is your turn.

I’m not really planting trees. I’m planting you. I’m cultivating your lives. The cows just keep the wheels turning as we explore the world together. As we find out who we are. As we struggle against division.

And I hope that is what I have left you. Unity. Family. Vision. Maybe some measure of finance but you are the real wealth. Julie and I treasure you. Each of you. All of you. We love you.

Since I have the floor I’m going to say it all again. If I had nothing else I would have family. If I had my family and could have one more thing it would be a book. If I could add to that it would be a warm place to read a book. Growing from there I want a garden. But the garden isn’t big enough. I need an acre. Or two. Or twenty. But only if I can share it with you kids.

Reading

One more thing.

I don’t know anything about my great, great, great, great aunt Susan but I will. Just as I am fully known. We are eternal beings and I hope to see you all soon.

Try to Take Over the World!

Gee, Julie! What do you want to do in 2015?

Bruce King beat me to the punch on this post and good for him. I don’t always make time for Bruce but I suspect I should. Bruce is a pragmatic farmer. He’s not afraid of the numbers. And he’s not afraid of work.

But I feel like his 2015 post is missing something. Can I say that without criticizing Bruce? Because I don’t mean to criticize Bruce in any way. I just like a little more heart sprinkled into my writing. I need more than just “What”. I need to know why. Why does Bruce want to go from 20 cows to 30? Is it really just a numbers issue? A cashflow problem? Does it satisfy some yearning within him…some intangible desire to own 30 cows…the innate need to farm? Does it answer some insecurity he is wrestling with? Does it solve a portion of his farm’s fertility issues or utilize a resource that is otherwise wasted? Has he increased his farm’s cow capacity by 50%? I don’t know. He just wants to go from 20 to 30. Well, good, but how can I personally apply this? What does it mean to me that Bruce wants more cows? I ask because I’m reading to learn.

I have a small herd of cows and maintain a maximum of 200 layers. We run batches of up to 6 feeder pigs through at any given time. Those numbers are dictated by a number of factors including our ability, our marketing reach, our farm fertility and our time. It would be AWESOME to have a flock of 3,000 layers (our legal limit) but what would I do with all the eggs? How could I handle the feed? Where would I put them? The money would be great but…I just can’t. I can’t. Not yet anyway.

I think it’s cool that Bruce can outline his goals in such a clear and concise manner. I’m afraid I fail at that task. Julie and I take our annual goals seriously…if we don’t know where we are going we won’t know when we get there. I’m not willing to share our personal goals on the blog but we do have farm and business goals. Now how to articulate them?

Let’s start with what I want. I’ll write this with more Bones and less Spock…more feeling and less math.

Click image for source

I want to make a bunch of money while also making as many people as possible happy and healthy. I want to live in a beautiful place, surrounded by abundance. I want to share that with others. If that means cows, then cows it is. Pigs? Chickens? Go get ’em. In fact, I feel my days are better when I have a variety of livestock around…less so right now without pigs. But on another scale entirely are my kids. I’m so happy to have children. I hope they are happy to have me. I hope I can provide them with a safe place surrounded by health and learning…the kind of place they will want to share with their own children.

So that’s what I want.

What can I do in 2015 to help me get there? I’ll try to keep this focused on farm-related goals.

Let’s skip the farm for a second. I know. I said I wouldn’t but just play along. I need to be a better farmer. That’s more than just muck and muscle. It’s a lot of muck and muscle but it’s more than just muck and muscle. I need to spend some time expanding my education. This will help me be a better husband and father, not just a better farmer. So in 2015 I intend to read a book each week. I suspect I currently read more than a book per week but I don’t journal it anywhere. So I’m going to read at least a book each week. Maybe I’ll add that as a blog feature. Dunno. If you want to play along, the youngest two got me Bob Kleberg and the King Ranch: A Worldwide Sea of Grass for Christmas. I’ll try to finish that up before the new year. After that? Could be anything. I’ll try to come up with some sort of plan and I’m open to suggestions.

Beyond that I could list a large number of specific things Julie and I want to accomplish this year but I find that by doing so I’m not setting goals for 2015. I’m writing a year-long chore list and that’s not what we want. Today I want the big picture. Once I see that clearly I’ll know what to do next.

From a big-picture level…what is it I want in 2015? Health. Family. Friends. Money. Liberty.

What am I going to do to accomplish that on the farm in 2015?

  • I am going to increase my farm’s stocking rate. Until my farm is stocked my business suffers at every level. So does my family, my wallet and, in some way, my health. How many cows? What about sheep? Should we start to farrow? Dunno. We’ll do our best. Stay tuned.
  • I am going to read like it’s going out of style because I’m afraid it is going out of style. There is just too much I don’t know. Too much I haven’t seen. Too many ideas I haven’t weighed. What one non-surgical thing can a person do to make themselves more attractive? Read. Not only books, I want to find 5 more farm blogs to patronize starting with Bruce.
  • The farm has a number of infrastructure needs. However much I don’t want to write a chore list, I have to include chores in my list. Without being specific here, I need to list the work that needs my attention, prioritize it and start knocking it out.
  • I plan to pursue better stewardship of our farm and family finances. I played terrific offense this year but our defense was a little weak. We need to step it up. You can read about budget and finance elsewhere. I just need to do better. Really, this includes manure and compost management, not just money.
  • To be more personal for a moment, Julie and I hit some rough spots in 2014. Nothing that endangered our marriage but certainly caused us real stress. She can’t move a chicken tractor. She can’t carry feed sacks. Milking is not her favorite activity. We need to focus this year on what she enjoys about the farm and find ways leverage those interests. Similarly, the kids. A previous bullet point discussed farm infrastructure needs. My kids are the farm’s infrastructure. I need to keep them in good repair. I need to make sure they are a part of the farm, not merely involved in the farm. I need to make sure my family has been inspired to pursue a common vision.

ReachingOut

And that vision starts here.

We work together as a team to steward God’s resources, create a welcoming home, share with others, encourage one another, learn and explore new ideas and pursue our God given purpose.

In 2015 I will be a better husband, father, scholar and steward. I don’t have numbers for most of those metrics but that’s the direction to go.

Please comment below to offer suggestions on worthwhile reading, both books and blogs.

Every Christmas Eve…my Sister

We finished up chores early after staying up late last night wrapping presents and watching old episodes of Dr. Who. Usually Julie and I watch Better Off Dead as we wrap presents but this year Dr. Who sounded better. Every year we get the kids wool socks, a box of cereal (we only buy cereal at Christmas) and a book. Don’t tell them until tomorrow afternoon though.

However, my sister and I have a little tradition on Christmas Eve. The aforementioned Better Off Dead made a big impact in our childhood. She has given me TV dinners (I remember how much you liked the brownie in that one). I have given her a framed picture of Ricky (so she will always remember her trip to the United States). There have been threats to make aardvark coats but the gags don’t stop there. For years we traded a can of spam back and forth. She gave me Santa boxers one year. I gave them back the next year (unused).

What’s it going to be this year? Is there a gag? I can’t tell you. That’s my most favoritist part of Christmas Eve. Not knowing what I’m in for and watching my sister open gifts from Julie and me with a measure of reluctance. Good times.

My favorite Christmas movie isn’t really a Christmas movie but it inspired something of a tradition.