I do not come from farming. Still, it is pretty hard to grow up in Iowa without some knowledge of agricultural workings. My mother's stepfather retired from FedEx back in the 80's to grow a few crops and raise some cattle. We spent a lot of time at his and my grandmother's farm south of Des Moines. Gathering for holidays or to go fishing in their pond. But it will not pass on.
I remember Grandpa Dave being a lot of fun when I was a kid. There was always Crush in the garage fridge, and he made everyone laugh. But looking back he was always a little bit of a bullshitter, and an egotist, who liked to have a few beers and hold court. My family was never involved in farm matters. A few times walking beans before Roundup Ready was a thing, or as extra hands for mending fence is all I remember. If there was choring to do it fell to my uncles.
Then when I was 21 my uncle Kevin died. He was only 38. The youngest. He went to the doctor with severe back pain, that had been bothering him off and on. They said he was having a heart attack, and had been having them, and that there was not a lot they could do for him. His death marked a real change in my grandmother. Doris always seemed happy sipping her Hawkeye vodka and diet Seven Up. But she became bitter and maudlin. At the same time Dave grew more high-handed. When my son was born a few years later they were not very interested in him.
He was a teenager by the time my grandmother fell ill with cancer. I doubt she spent 12 hours with him in his whole life. Dave was younger than Doris, and seemed to resent caring for her, so a lot of that fell on my mother. Who they both treated bad throughout the process. Leaving mom and Dave with little to talk about after grandma died. He continued to pit her against her brother and the two grew apart. Only calling each other on their birthdays. She tried to call him on his birthday last June. But his phone was disconnected. It turns out that he had died in March, but her stepfather never told her about it. Brian was 65. My mom was not invited to the funeral or mentioned in the obituary.
Living in a rural area it is not unusual to meet 50-year-old family farmers whose 80-year-old fathers still control things. Dave expected everyone to kiss his ass for a shot at inheriting the farm. But he never involved anyone to the point that they would be willing to do that. He could not give up control. Now anyone who would have taken over is dead or has their own career. So, the status of his legacy is uncertain, and he is likely to die alone. As my friend
recently said, "Do not burn your house down to prove your hands can hold a match."Which brings me to my stepfather's father. Harold was also a good example for me. We were never that close. I do not think he knew what his place was with step-grandchildren. But he married one of the best women I have ever known. He worked hard and invested well, and as the patriarch of a big family, made sure to take care of them after he was gone. Dave used to sneer that Harold had gotten lucky. But he hated the idea that, though he was a millionaire on paper, there was someone who could still buy and sell him. My son was a baby when Harold died. But he delighted in him as the first great-grandchild. Because he understood legacy.
I am not a farmer. But maybe I should have been. I live in a small town in rural New England, where I work remotely in financial services. My lifestyle consumes many real goods, produces almost none, and countless things have to go right for that to continue. I should have bought a farm. But I did not. With my low fixed rate mortgage means I likely will not anytime soon. But gentleman farmer is the long-term goal. I do not have any feelings about Dave's farm one way or the other. It is his to light on fire if he wishes. It does seem like a waste though.
You do not get to choose your blood. You are born into a family which is already in progress. A lot of fully formed people who may or may not be what you need them to. Some family trees are stunted from gnarled roots, but pruning dead branches can promote new growth. Family we choose to maintain, out of respect and joy in each other, is what is important to outgrowing our roots. I hope that foremost my legacy is one of kindness.
This is a hard thing to think through Casey; thank you for writing about it with your own family’s story.
Gentleman Farmer is our goal as well. Keep dreaming of it and planning and little by little it just might happen!