Last week I had some things to say about farm life as giving people a good chance to take a positive and optimistic view toward the work they do. One would hardly take on the risk of raising livestock or field crops without having a certain optimism that the venture could be made to pay off. However, that being said, I'm going to admit that those of us who have farm experience can do at least our share of complaining and worrying.
Of course, many of us have made a philosophical determination not to do too much complaining. It is always interesting to me how folks respond when we greet each other at the grocery store or around the community, asking, "How are you doing?" Some people will respond, "Great! How are you?" or even "Fabulous! and you?" Others may say something like, "I'm fine. How 'bout yourself?" Still others will elaborate a bit more, "I'm fine, don't complain, don't get no sympathy nohow!" (I used to hear that one from a lady at the grocery store in Alma, Ark.) I find myself tending to say, "I'm doing fine. I shouldn't complain, even though I might think of a few things to complain about!" I'm thinking, so many people have way more problems than I do, so I shouldn't do too much complaining. Despite my friend's statement that she "Didn't get no sympathy nohow," my experience has been that people often do express sympathy when we speak of some problem or discouragement. A little sympathy must be worth something, because some people work really hard to get a little sympathy.
When thinking about farmers' complaints, I always remember our group of farmers in Iowa who were attending our church picnic during the corn planting season. I had only known them for a week or so, since we were new there, and they were right gloomy as they waited for the food to be set out to eat. The planting season had been very wet, and several of the corn farmers had already replanted two and three times, trying to get a stand of corn in the wet ground. I happened to be sitting and talking with a retired carpenter who lived in town near us. I mentioned that things seemed pretty gloomy among the farmers, like we might be in for a bad year. But I noticed that Mr. Abarr smiled, and said, "Pastor Jerry, our farmers will lose their crop four times getting the season started, and then they'll make 200 bushels an acre!" My new friend was very familiar with the farmers worrying and fussing about their problems, but also how most of the time the harvest would turn out good after all.
After we had lived for several years in southern Iowa, we moved to east Arkansas, which also happens to be grain country, large scale crop farming, corn, soybeans, cotton, wheat and barley. Right away I began hearing the farmers talking and complaining about their problems -- the cost of tractors and combines was out of sight, fertilizer was drastically expensive, irrigation drained the bank account as well as lowering the water table, bank financing was a constant burden, and the prices one got for a crop was never enough. One farmer told me that he had just borrowed a quarter of a million dollars to put in his crops for the season. I was taking it all in sympathetically, and kind of stealing myself for the worst. But then I noticed in the fall, after the farmers had sold their grain crops, they were buying new Lincoln automobiles and new GMC pickups, and didn't seem too bad off.
Sometimes I think that we Americans do a lot of complaining without really noticing how well we are blessed, especially without noticing that we have it so much better than folks in other parts of the world. Some folks actually seem more focused on fussing about things they see as gone wrong than on trying to get things straightened out and improved.
So long as we have a mind to complain, there seem to be things out there to complain about. A farmer doesn't have to look far for something to worry about or complain about. The weather is a good one. It's too wet, too cold, too dry, too hot, too windy. Or animal diseases or plant diseases are good ones, too. Or cattle prices -- they're good now, but by the time my herd matures they'll probably hit bottom. Or look at fuel prices. They're 2 dollars a gallon now, but I just know they'll soon be 4 dollars. There's so many things to complain about, if you are of a mind to.
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Editor's note: 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.
Editorial on 01/21/2015