While I’m very thankful for the tractor and all that it can do - the actual impact of progressive farming was exactly opposite of what this old film clip portrays.  In fact, Beth recently quoted from “The Hind Tit“, Andrew Nelson Lytle essay published in 1930 on this very topic.  Check out this little clip for the story that was sold:

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 Then you might contrast that with this quote or the entire essay to see what was purchased:

Industrialize the farm; be progressive; drop old-fashioned ways and adopt scientific methods. These slogans are powerfully persuasive and should be, but are not, regarded with the most deliberate circumspection, for under the guise of strengthening the farmer in his way of life they are advising him to abandon it and become absorbed.  Such admonition coming from the quarters of the enemy is encouraging to the landowner in one sense only: it assures him he has something left to steal.  Through its philosophy of Progress it is committing a mortal sin to persuade farmers that they can grow wealthy by adopting its methods.  A farm is not a place to grow wealthy; it is a place to grow corn.

 It is telling him that he can bring the city way of living to the country and that he will like it when it gets there.  His sons and daughters, thoroughly indoctrinated with these ideas at state normals, return and further upset his equilibrium by demanding the things they grew to like in town.  They urge him to make the experiment, with threats of an early departure from his hearth and board.  Under such pressure it is no wonder that the distraught countryman, pulled at from all sides, contemplates a thing he by nature is loath to attempt . . . experimentation. 

 If it were an idle experiment, there would be no harm in such an indulgence; but it is not idle.  It has a price and, like everything else in the industrial world, the price is too dear.  In exchange for the bric-a-brac culture of progress he stands to lose his land, and losing that, his independence, for the vagaries of its idealism assume concrete form in urging him to over-produce his money crop, mortgage his land, and send his daughters to town to clerk in ten-cent stores, that he may buy the products of the power Age and keep its machines turning.

The entire essay can be read here.  For the record I do not believe there is a more revealing work anywhere that has so completely captured the decline of the family and the family farm in the last 150 years.  I don’t believe it is about technology and the age of the tractor as much as it is the philosophy that came with the equipment.

I think it isn’t shocking to say that our culture at large has a very strong  hatred of  good honest work.  As a culture, we relish what is faster-quicker-easier…  The word “work” invokes the thought of having to exert too much energy, too much commitment…too much stick-to-it-tivity.    It means I actually have to focus on something, exert mental and physical energy and put heart into something from start to finish.   

Many of our grandparents were farm kids who knew what real, hard work was.  It is a far cry from today’s sports and video game consumed boys.  Valuable life lessons are lost when boys focus on play rather than consume a regular diet of honest, hard work.   Boys need responsibility, working by the sweat of their brow, seeing a task through from start to finish.  They learn to love and appreciate work, understaning it’s importance. 

I love reading old stories to my children about “work”…good old fashion work ethic!  We’ve read many books like, “Farmer Boy” which portrays boyhood work as a part of every day life.  The most recent family reading book my husband has been reading out-loud to us is called, “Every Farm Tells a Story” by Jerry Apps.  It has many wonderful stories about good boyhood work.  We’ve been enjoying it immensely as a family as we laugh and relate to Mr. Apps’ childhood stories about growing up on a family dairy farm in Wisconsin. 

Chores started on the home farm when you were around four years old, depending on, as Pa would say, “how much meat you have on your bones.”….By the time you were five, you moved up to feeding the chickens and gathering eggs….The ultimate chores took place in the cow barn.  Milking cows by hand ranked number one.  Other prestigious chores included forking hay from the haymow in ten-below-zero temperature, with frost hanging from the cobwebs and brushing you in the face; shoveling manure from the barn gutters into the manure carrier; cleaning out the calf pen; and throwing silage down from the top of the silo….Ma and Pa raised us to work together, play together and live together.  We helped each other, depended on each other and at times defended each other….

Our children have especially enjoyed the age-appropriate chores Mr. Apps shares in his book.  I’ll  list off some examples of work these boys did and at what age…it is really amazing!

“Chores were and important part of our growing up years…”.

“We learned not to complain about work.  We learned to show up on time, every time, day in and day out, including weekends.  And we took pride in what we were doing.  Chores were not drudgery, at least not on the farm where I grew up.”

• By the time you were 6 or 7, you helped pick the smaller stones (out of the field before the crops could be planted). 
• When you were 10 or 12, you drove the team while sitting on the disk harrow or you walked behind the drag while a dust cloud swirled around you. 
• You became a serious hoer when you were 7 or 8. 
• By the age of 12 or so, you were cultivating potatoes with one horse and a walking cultivator. 
• By the time you were 10, you were driving the horses and performing simple tasks like handling the team while Pa pitched hay. 
• When you were 12 or so, you were pitching hay along with Pa. 
• By the time you were 14, you were driving a team on the threshing crew. 
• By age 12, you husked corn by hand for the hogs after school, often a wagon load every afternoon. 
• By the time I was 12, I put every nickel I earned toward buying books.  I didn’t yet understand Pa’s good times-bad times theory (of saving some money for the bad times to get you through until the good times roll around again). 

We have a long way to go to recapture what it means to work hard and to embrace it.  But is no secret that we live in a day and age of wimpy boys, who don’t know what a hard days work really looks like, couldn’t defend the family if they had to, haven’t a clue about how to produce or hunt food and couldn’t save a nickel if they wanted to. 

Moving to a farm was one of the best decisions we ever made! 

…will come from this guy!  Check out the video:

The official motto of his dealership is, “God, Guns, Guts, and American Pickup Trucks!” They are giving away an AK-47 with each new truck purchase.  It may be a gimmick, but if you listen to the interview you will see this guys is the real deal. Not only is he real… he is smart; he is helping to arm his neighbors. I would be willing to bet, if an army (foreign or domestic) were to invade the central part of our nation, they would not do well in Missouri where Max Motors is located.

We had a very eventful day full of remembering and giving thanks for the Providential hand of God in our lives.  Daddy read the historical account of how the Gospel was spread westward and laid out God’s Providential guiding hand in the lives of the Separatists who fled their homeland for Holland and then 12 years later fled Holland for America.  It is a mighty story of God’s faithfulness even amidst trials and tribulations.   It is a story that we tell our children so that they will remember where they came from and hopefully to instill in them the commitment and courage to take similar stands our forefathers took for the sake of the Gospel.  In the middle of our history lesson, we were interrupted by a herd of deer grazing in our yard.  One of the children saw the deer out of the living room window and we all jumped up and enjoyed watching them. 

We, of course, feasted on the bounty that the Lord has provided and gave many thanks in speech, action and by index card.  Index Card?  We started a tradition several years ago where we leave a container on the table where we can put handwritten “I am thankful for….” index cards in the jar to be read Thanksgiving night as we gather around the table again for supper.  Daddy reads the cards and we all enjoy hearing what everyone has written down.  The younger children who are unable to write yet, draw pictures of things they are thankful for or they can enlist an older buddy helper to write what they say.  It is a wonderful time of reflection, remembrance and thanks! 

One thanks we all gave was for the beautiful turkey our family was blessed to raise here on the farm this year.  The turkey meant all the more to us knowing that the work and care paid off in,  not only a wonderful learning experience for us, especially the boys, but also the provision of meat for our family. 

We had one small problem at about midnight last night.  That 40 lb turkey doesn’t fit in a 22 quart roasting pan.  However, that was the only pan we had that came even close to housing that massive turkey.

After a little bit of prodding and shoving….We fit the turkey in the pan.  It was a snug fit, but it would have to do. 

 Thankfully, it did fit in the oven and about 8 hours later it was ready.  We overestimated the cooking time and even though it was a little more done than ideal, the meat was absolutely wonderful!  We will be definitely raising our Thanksgiving turkey in the years to come (and hopefully additional turkey to sell)!

We also took a  ”Turkey Trivia” quiz during the day that my husband found online and set up for us all to take.  The winner of the trivia quiz was our 10 year old…  He beat out mom and dad even!  The winner of the quiz was privileged with being able to pull the turkey wishbone with the one who raised the turkey.  Here, the boys pose for a picture with the massive wishbone. 

Tomorrow we will be picking up our farm raised pork (folks around here call it a hawg) from the butcher and will have some interesting stories to tell about that experience.  As you might imagine, pigs don’t just jump in the trailer and asked to be taken to the butcher.  More to come…