The Farm (11/9/99)

By Dave Haupt

I guess we all grow up thinking that our world is the center of the universe. The center of my universe, as a young lad, was a small farm in the Spring Creek valley just a couple of miles from the North Dakota state line.

In retrospect, it seems odd to me now that I never considered growing up to become a farmer. I just never considered that as an option. You would think a kid would at least have some desire to follow in this father's footsteps, but not me. Now, don't get me wrong; I had tremendous respect for the work my dad did. I just didn't want to do it all my life. I'm not sure if it was the losing of all feeling in my fingers and toes while doing chores on winter mornings, or the violent allergic reaction that wracked my respiratory system when working with alfalfa, or the near death experience of narrowly avoiding being pummeled by a charging bull, but the farm life just didn't get in my blood like it does for some people. However, growing up as a farm kid, well, I wouldn't trade it for anything.

For one thing, there just ain't anybody around to corrupt you. You pretty much have your parents as role models, and your dog as a companion, and that's it. In my case, my parents were excellent role models. And my dog, other than a couple of bad habits like licking fresh cow manure and eating chicken entrails, had pretty high moral values himself. Heck, his name was Prince. That's how highly respected he was around the farm. Prince and I would take long walks along Spring Creek, and we would talk about just about everything. As I think back, I guess Prince didn't say much, but he always seemed to agree with my opinions. Every so often he would bolt after a gopher or try to wrestle a garter snake, but usually he would stay right by my side. I'll bet you folks who were raised in town can't say that about your best friend.

Now, with an entire boyhood of walking around the prairie talking to your dog, there are two ways a person can go here -- crazy comes to mind immediately, but a person could also mature into a thoughtful and introspective person. I like to think that I have evolved more toward the latter, though there are those who would tell you that I more resemble the former.

Which leads me to where I want to go with this little essay. While I did not grow up to become a farmer, I have been a farm lender for the last 20 years. I have witnessed the farms becoming fewer and larger, and the small towns shrinking, and the rural tax base eroding, on a first hand basis. I think a lot about this, and the long-term ramifications both to our little corner of the Great Plains, and also to our entire nation. What will the Great Plains look like in another 25 years? In how few hands will our nation's food supply be entrusted? For those of you who do not work closely with agriculture in your daily lives, you should know that there are two schools of thought regarding these questions. There is the attitude that what is happening is a natural and unstoppable phenomenon, that there are still too many farmers producing goods that are not needed, and that, once our nation reaches the optimal number of producers, however many that may be, the survivors will be profitable. The other school of thought is that, due to corporate mergers and monopolistic impediments to a truly competitive marketplace, farmers are not able to sell their goods for a profit. Grain merchandisers, wholesalers,and retailers have clout and control prices, while farmers gradually go out of business due to lack of profits.

Those of us who remain out here in rural America need those of you who have adopted a more urban lifestyle to play a role in how all of this will eventually play out. Personally, I would like to see rural America thrive. It seems unwise to keep piling our population into cities, and turning our farmland over to faceless corporations whose stewardship of the land will never come close to that of our parents' and grandparents'.

No, I don't freeze my buns off anymore doing farm chores, and I don't come in from the field anymore so dirty that Mom could only see me if I smiled, and I don't take long walks on the prairie with my panting, four-legged pal; but it would sure be nice if a heckuva a lot more kids could have the opportunity to do so.

(Dave Haupt grew up on a farm near Eureka and graduated from EHS in 1976. An alumni of Northern State University in Aberdeen, S.D., he is an officer with First National Bank of Ord in Ord, Neb.)