Being Brave

I try not to be political on this platform, but last week something someone said stood out like a hot pink downed mylar helium balloon in an otherwise verdant green pasture. When confronted with abject lies about immigrants eating pets they said they were in the business of farming fear.

Let me be perfectly clear, fear is not farmed. If anything, farming is for the fearless. Farmers bravely go up against Mother Nature day in and day out to put food on your tables, clothing on your bodies, medicines to heal, and yes, lots of libations for a good time.

Many years ago I had an old pickup with the bumper sticker that said No Farms, No Beer. After a local read it in a Walmart parking lot he said to his buddy, “As if beer grows on trees. What a dumb bumper sticker.” I wasn’t going to tell him.

But that was one of the first times when I realized how woefully stupid most people are to how the food and beverages they consume are produced. As time goes on it hasn’t gotten any better since most of what we eat comes prepared, packaged, prepped and served by others.

Farmers are some of the bravest folks out there, especially your farmers.  Fearlessness is driving to market in the dark on icy or snowy mornings during the winter months. The freeways on the way home are no picnic either. Back in the days before ubiquitous credit card machines there was also the very real possibility of getting robbed as we all carried cash.

When I did markets in sketchy neighborhoods in the District I was threatened with mugging on multiple occasions, always puffing up and crowing like a big ol’ rooster ready to spur my opponent. Fortunately, I won those matches, but when I look back I wonder what was I thinking?

But as farmers we’re often ones to react without having the opportunity to be afraid, especially those of us who raise livestock. Anyone catch that goose egg on one of our farmer’s faces a few weeks ago? She tried to cover it up with makeup, but I knew a black eye like that was the result of an onery four-legged critter. Knowing she’s been wresting livestock her entire life, I guarantee that’s someone you wouldn’t want to mess with despite her sweet yarn lady who knits persona.

It's not only the livestock farmers, but those cultivating crops in fields, high tunnels, and greenhouses. They, too, must deal with heart-pounding events such as trespassers, vandals, and thieves. Anyone with a bulk fuel tank for farm equipment knows what I’m talking about.  Everyone always talks about crime in the city, but the opioid epidemic rural areas has forced many of us to install heavy-duty locks and security systems where we once left doors unlocked and keys in the ignition of vehicles.  We do it not out of fear, but to avoid the hassle of having to replace and repair critical equipment that has been stolen or damaged by who more often than not turn out to be our neighbors with addiction issues.

Fear is not farmed or even cultivated. It is shoved in our faces by small-minded, cruel people who care only about themselves using it as a cudgel to threaten others into their misguided way of thinking. I refuse to let someone usurp my livelihood as an analogy to peddle hatred, especially toward the majority of people who make up the backbone of farming, our immigrants.