Memories on farms’ importance, legacy

At the Wisconsin State fair each year, those farms that have been owned and operated by the same family for 100 or 150 years are honored. This year, Susan Crane, who was a member of the state fair board and chairperson of the Century Farm committee, had a unique position: She was also a recipient of a Century Farm award. Her home farm is near Manawa, Wisconsin, and is operated by the Kielpinski family.

Susan gave an inspiring speech to the Century Farm recipients. One of her first comments was, “Why we held onto our farms”; she said, “Our farms have endured good times and bad. We’ve experienced good weather but also storms and droughts and deep freezes and floods. Why are we still here?”

Many of us are not century farms, yet I can bet we all hope to be. We are here because we adapted. Farms seem to have changes occurring monthly, even weekly. I once heard the owners of Mason Dixon Farms in Pennsylvania say, “If your farm doesn’t grow or improve every year, you’re going backward.” That attitude leads to resilience and the ability to change as times change.

So, what memories trigger in your mind as you think about the longevity of your farm? I remember my dad talking about “new breaking.” That term was how he described land that previously had been trees and pasture. Before the days of big excavators and big bulldozers, the land was cleared with the use of dynamite and farmers’ own labor. A hole was dug under the stumps, and a tube of dynamite was packed in with a fuse. Dad would light it and seek cover quickly. I still remember some of the wood pieces landing on our lawn near the house. Dad was making new fields but also creating memories for us kids.

Have you ever looked at the abstract to your farm? It’s a good history of the land. I’ve seen deeds granted by the U.S. government from the 1800s with President Lincoln’s name on them. The ability for our ancestors to pay for their farms was incredibly hard. They didn’t have many sources of income and surely couldn’t handle another job. In working the land and improving it as much as they could every year, they developed a deep love for that land.

A book that describes early farm life in southwestern Wisconsin is called “The Land Remembers” by Ben Logan. An excerpt from this book states, “The birth of that land, like the birth of a planet, is beyond our comprehension. We can theorize about cosmic dust, planetary collisions, rivers of molten rock or land rising out of the sea, to be worn down again by wind and water, but how real is all that compared to the feel of the morning sun in the face, the smell of the seasons changing, the sight of the new green springing from the soil?”

Susan asked another question which prompted some answers: “What was the hardest-working piece of equipment on the farm over the years?” My mind immediately thought of a manure spreader, but her answer was the apron on the clothesline — and I would have to agree. The aprons that my mother and grandmother wore could carry eggs, move a hot cast iron pan from the stove to a different spot, wipe a kid’s face and keep dresses clean.

She talked about memories and the importance of sharing them about our farms. I’m willing to bet that, if you ask any farm person about their first experience driving a tractor, you will get an immediate answer. My first experience was when I was five years old, and Dad put me on a Farmall M with about five minutes of training and a couple of questions: “Can you push the clutch in? Can you hang tight onto the steering wheel?” It was on-the-job training on the farm. If you didn’t hold onto that wheel tightly and the front wheels hit a bump, the steering wheel would spin fast and almost break your arm. However, the feeling of driving that tractor while Dad loaded bales on a wagon made me feel like I was king of the world.

As our ancestors and loved ones have gone, one thing remains on the farm: change. Our farms are here today, and many of those changes need to be told in stories to our children and grandchildren. One of my neighbors, Rudy, talked about walking a cull cow five miles to town, selling her to the Chicago stockyards for 17 dollars and putting her on a railroad car.

On our farm, Jacqui makes a lunch between one and two o’clock. At my most recent birthday, besides a great meal and pies, Jacqui brought out a box of cards with questions. I was questioned about my childhood and growing up with five brothers and a sister. “What was your day like as a senior in high school? What were your grandparents like? What job did you not like the most as a kid? What was your first car? Did you have any severe accidents or illnesses when you were a kid? Where did you go on your honeymoon?”

The looks on the younger kids’ faces and the questions they asked were awesome. Sometimes, I think the younger generation doesn’t want to listen to our stories, but really, they are like sponges that absorb all those old stories and will hopefully retell them someday. The work and love put into the land are impossible for succeeding generations to comprehend unless those stories get told. It’s a great family reunion tool to have the elders talk about growing up on our farms.