I am a country boy, and people do not know if I have a schedule or not— but I definitely
do. I believe in the country way of life. Some people call me a hick and a redneck, and I take no shame in those pseudonyms at all. Many people do not realize how much physical labor and tireless toil that farming requires. I have had to “work like a dog” many times, which is fine with me because I would much rather work for what I have than to be handed anything in life. In this forthcoming generation, farming becomes less popular because my generation is less motivated to do manual labor, especially during the harsh winters and throughout the hot summer days. They are searching for easy careers with schedules breaks, paid vacations, or desk jobs; whereas, in my line of work, none of that exists.
At springtime, the farmer continues to plant each acre, fearful of breaking down even at
the end of the season. All he can do—work with what Mother Nature provides; he just keeps sending up prayers. After countless, yet priceless, hours of painstakingly working in the fields, farming becomes muscle memory—all that the caretaker of the soil knows and desires. Nothing compares to the feeling of making that last round in the tractor, yet wishing there was still more. The 640 acres that I farm may not be much, but it’s something for which I am proud and thankful.
I instantly fell in love with my current way of life. My belief was first formed when I was
young, completing small tasks around the family farm. I believe now what I do helps to feed the nation and should inspire more young men and women to live and to cherish living the country life. This I believe.