I Could have been a Farmer

 Adulthood. When exactly does that begin? It's all a matter of perspective. I would say it's also a matter of position. For those interested in politics or eager to light up a cigarette without having to worry who's watching, that day comes upon the 18th birthday. For others it all centers around legally consuming alcohol or gambling. That day comes upon the 21st birthday.  For me, I didn't think of myself as an adult until I graduated college & was out on my own. That was exactly 13 years ago today. I went from living with my mother & Barry to moving up to Iowa City & living with my first two roommates Dennis & Ratko. 

A lot has happened in the past 13 years. I got stories that could literally be a series of books. I can't say much in the terms of success, but it sure has been interesting. I've experienced some shit the past decade plus that even I have a hard time believing it even though I lived it. This isn't at all where I thought I'd be at this time in my life & having the vivid imagination that I do, I often like to sit and wonder what life would be like had I gone in a different direction. 

It started off as a conversation between me & my girlfriend Ashley and later in the evening it became a conversation between me & my friend Ali. Both Ashley and Ali laughed at the idea when I told them I could have gone into farming. I don't blame them. I laughed too.  The idea of me, Stephen Stonebraker being a farmer is quite humorous. Matter of fact it's asinine, but it is indeed a direction that I was at one time offered. 

My mom married a farmer when I was 10 years old. She had began dating him when I was 9. He was always willing to take me out to the farm & teach me anything I wanted to know, but I was often reluctant to go.  Most of this had to do with my Dad. My Mom and Dad had a bitter divorce & hated one another with a passion. I was very close with my Dad back then & I felt that spending time with Barry & learning anything from Barry would be in defiance of my Dad.  The last thing I wanted to do back in those days was disappoint my Dad. 

I did help Barry a few times though. I think Barry saw me as a very scared and timid child & truth is, I was. Barry & my Dad had the polar opposite approach on learning things. When I was little my Dad was always yelling & screaming at me that I was going to hurt myself if I tried anything. I'd cut my finger off or I'd crush every bone in my hand.  Then when I got a little older, he was convinced if I hit the books, studied hard & got a college education that I'd make enough money to where I could hire someone to do the work for me.  Today in his eyes, I'm just a flippin' F'in idiot that doesn't know how to do anything. Barry on the other hand was the type that would hand me a wrench or a screwdriver & sit there waiting for me to see if I couldn't figure out what to do with it. When I handed the tool back to him, I think Barry thought I was being lazy. I wasn't being lazy, it was fear. I had in instilled in my head that I was too careless. That I was too stupid.  I'd do something that would either ruin the machine or I'd blow us all into smithereens. 

It didn't help matters any that one of the times I did decided to help out on the farm, I watched my Uncle Terry whack off part of his thumb. We were building a new silo. He was messing around with a chain trying to get it hooked up to a backhoe properly when the chain straightened and off went part of his thumb. I sort of surprised myself by reacting as quickly as I could. He was screaming, holding his thumb in his shirt, blood everywhere.  We didn't have a first aid kit, so I grabbed some black tape & went to work.  I put his thumb back together as well as I could with what I had. 

Nevertheless that incident with Uncle Terry really scared the crap out of me. I remember going to get togethers afterwards with Terry showing everyone his thumb & how other farmers were laughing at him saying, "oh that's nothing!" as they showed him their missing fingers, thumbs, ears and eyes.  If I wasn't already against the idea of doing farming for a living, I was now. 

Over the years I helped out on the farm a few other times, but nothing too major. I've helped Barry feed the pigs or the cattle. I've done other little menial jobs like haul a trailer full of fertilizer behind a pickup. Nothing too major or important. 

Truth is the thought of me being a farmer is like picturing Little Jimmy Dickens doing gangsta rap. It just doesn't make any sense. The idea of me dusty and dirty every day, dealing in bushels, talking about crops & how badly we need rain, it's absolutely asinine. 

Of course there would be benefits. I'd know my place in the world. I'd have a farm vehicle. A guaranteed pay check. The farm would have helped me to get my own home.  Yet I'd also have to live in either Sigourney, Webster, Keswick, North English, South English or Kinross. Nothing against any of the towns, but they aren't places I want to live for the time being.  Maybe Sigourney when I'm old and retired, but not now. 

Truth is even if I would have decided to go that route & try and follow Barry in his footsteps, I just don't think it would have worked out. I don't have the personality of a farmer.  I don't think any amount of trying would have ever led to me fitting in. There are parts of it I think I would have been good at. I think I could have learned to have ran a tractor, a combine & I think above anything else, I would have enjoyed hauling grain in the semi to Cedar Rapids & Muscatine.  Yet let's say I had a time machine & I went back to explore this option.  It wouldn't have been me. I would have spent most nights in a tractor or a combine or whatever else it is farmers do wishing I had gone a different direction with my life.  I'd have sat around at farmer get togethers with the other farmers the sore thumb that obviously didn't belong.  

I write this now mainly because of how made up it seems. To think of me going the farming route & being a farmer. I can't say it without laughing. God, is that absurd. Yet it oddly enough really was an option for me at one time.  I admire and respect the Hell out of farmers. They feed America! Hell, they feed the world!  It's often a thankless job that doesn't get near the credit it deserves.  Nor does it ever get the recognition that it deserves for how tiresome and neverending it is. I envy Barry that he has no one to answer to but himself. I envy that he does things his way. Yet on the same hand, there's so much he has to worry about too.  Responsibilities.  He doesn't have to rely on other people all that much, but he does rely on the weather, on markets. He sometimes deals with numbers that would give me a heart attack.  Certain times of the year, he starts working before the sun comes up & he's still working long after it has gone down.  

Me a farmer...God that's a funny thought.