I’m wondering if anyone out there feels that they are being able to “keep up?” I’m always trying to keep up. I sympathize with the person who is often saying, “There just aren’t enough hours in the day!” I think I understand somewhat the other side, in which a person says, “Time drags on, heavy on my mind!”
But, no, I guess I don’t really understand that after all. That hasn’t been my experience of life for the most part.
I have always heard an assumption often held by people who have never lived on a farm - that life on the farm is slow, leisurely, laid back. Some may speak of life back on the farm as a time when life was uncomplicated, life was uncluttered, life was simpler. They may go on about a simpler time. Well, that was never my experience of the old days on the farm. So I tend to think that the sentimental rambling about life back then as simple, unrushed, and uncluttered, is, well, mostly bosh!
What is bosh? Bosh is going on and on about things you know nothing of. It is like an uncle of mine who came visiting from Chicago back when I was a young teenager. I remember that we were standing at the door in the front of the big barn. My Dad and I were inside, and my uncle was standing just outside. He was admiring our farm, which he regarded as a pretty little place in the country.
He said he was dreaming of a time when he could retire, buy a little place like this, put a few cows out on the pasture, and just take life easier. He liked that picture of peaceful, trouble-free cows munching contentedly on the green grass.
I happened to be watching my Dad’s face at the time. Dad wasn’t one to argue with people’s ideas, but I could tell by the look on his face that he was thinking, “Yea, and you don’t have any idea what you are talking about, either !”I think my uncle had the idea that a farmer spends much of his time sitting in the rocking chair on the porch, watching the world go blithely and pleasantly by, while the cows take care of themselves, staying healthy and happy, their winter hay is some way just out there, the rains always come at the right time, the creek never floods, and the water gates never wash out, fences are never down, and the tractor always starts.
My memory of life on the farm included many times when the days were too short to get everything done that needed doing.
One of my memories was my Dad’s insistence on getting in that last load of hay in the afternoon before milking time, right when I was ready to listen to Sky King on the radio. Looking back, I realize that he wasn’t trying to deprive me of anything, but that from where he stood, time was a-wastin’. If we didn’t bring in that last load of hay, it might get rained on tonight, and it wouldn’t be good for anything. Lost time was lost goods, lost money, lost value.
Where did the city people get it that the farmer has no pressures to contend with, no schedules to meet, no hazards to contend with, no ailments to treat, no calamities to recover from?
Sometimes, on the farm, one runs into situations when everything seems to need to be done at once. The hay needs to be brought in. The corn needs to be cultivated. The garden needs to be hoed. The roof needs to be patched.
The tractor needs a new tire.
One of those situations when I was about 10 years old had quite an impact on my thinking about my roleon our farm, and how my efforts might be pretty important. The weather had been rainy that late spring, and the hay crop had gone past time for mowing, the weeds were taking over the corn field, and Dad was feeling like he needed to be three places at once. So, he decided to mow the hay field, then to call Enoch Patterson to come help haul our hay, while he took the tractor and cultivator and plowed the corn.
Enoch was bringing in his horses and wagon, and I was to drive the horses in the field while Enoch loaded the hay. I was feeling pretty important, but this all turned out to have a new lesson for me, as well as being something funny to remember.
I learned that Enoch’s horses didn’t know my horse language. His horses had been trained differently. In my horse language, “Giddap” meant go, “Whoa” meant stop, “Gee” meant turn right, “Haw” meant turn left. With our horses, old Pat and Mike, pulling the right rein made them turn right; pull the left rein and they turned left. With Enoch’s horses, none of these applied; so when I pulled the wagon up to a pile of hay and called out “Whoa,” the horses went right on by! It was quite an afternoon. But, we got that hay hauled, and I almost learned a new horse language.
Maybe we aren’t supposed to really keep up. We just keep trying, as wisely as possible. There are too many things to do, too many interests to pursue, too much to learn.
We’ll never keep up with everything!
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Jerry Nichols, a native of Pea Ridge, is an award-winning columnist, a retired Methodist minister with a passion for history. He is vice president of the Pea Ridge Historical Society. He can be contacted by e-mail at [email protected], or call 621-1621.
Community, Pages 5 on 05/01/2013