“If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.”
— Henry David Thoreau
Every year, as October rolls in, I am grateful for another glorious season.
A friend told me a couple of weeks ago that she dreads October because the demands on the farm feel heavy and irksome. Everyone is grouchy and overworked, her dad most of all.
I laughed over some of her silliest stories, but my thoughts turn to my own dad. October held his glory days, and he wanted to share it. He installed a child’s safety seat in his combine and asked each of his daughters to be sure there was time for each of the grandkids to ride a round or two with him. Mom was instructed to stock up on some of the best junk food for him to share.
All of the rest of the year was pure, hard work — some of it mighty aggravating work that led to this championship season. Dad was often in the machinery shed between milkings, going over equipment to be sure it would be ready to roll when it needed to be in fine form. He made sure he had extra parts stocked for possible breakdowns and had his friend Gif double-checking it all.
I remember loving the job of moisture testing the first shelled corn of the season, reporting to Dad, as though I was personally responsible for what that day might bring. He would then send me with instructions to the rest of the crew on where we each were needed.
On a recent day, I learned of the death of one of Dad’s longtime employees. Bob Clevidence was 99 years old and had worked a wide variety of jobs over his lifetime. Not long ago, Bob told his son that the best job he ever had was working for my dad. That was a compliment in its highest form.
There were many morning meetings around our round table, Bob sipping a cup of coffee, planning where we each were needed.
There was joy in the mix, always, and what a difference that made. Dad had envisioned his life as a young man and made it happen. He was a happy man, quick to joke and praise those helping turn the wheels.
Some of the best celebrations were held at the end of a long series of days. Celebrations didn’t require every last bit of work being finished. A call from Dad might come on a random Wednesday afternoon. “Hey, we finished at the McKinley farm today. Let’s all go out to eat! I’m buying!”
