Truth from the Trenches by Melissa Hart 

 

It was the fall of 1981 when my older siblings were away at college or had their own home, and I was the last one on the farm. Harvest had begun and it looked as though my dad would have to suffer through the season with no other help but mine – and that was just at night and on weekends.

We were halfway through the season when the teachers went on strike. This was not only a welcome vacation to every kid in the school district, but to the farmers it was a windfall of help, my dad included.

I drove the grain cart. Well – actually, it was two gravity wagons hooked together behind an Oliver 1850, but I did have a cab! I hauled load after load into the mill and had a great time doing it. I visited with the farmers about harvest, compared test weights and ate peanuts to pass the time in line as we waited to dump our loads.

That was a fun fall for me. I learned where to park in a wet field, how to drive across shutter bumps without blowing a tire and that when there’s too much weight in a gravity wagon and you’re going downhill, bad things can happen.

This morning I found myself on the grain cart once more, only this time it was a real grain cart behind a brand new John Deere with computer screens, a stereo system and heated seats. I decided to spend a little time with my broken-armed son and climbed into the buddy seat to ride a couple of rounds.

When I wasn’t asking questions, I sat and watched the corn empty out of the combine into the grain cart and then into the semi. While we went from one end of the field to the other, I listened to them chat on the CBs. I watched my son fiddle with the controls, answer text messages and keep the tractor in perfect sync with the combine.

This was nothing like I had experienced as a teenager in the fall of ’81. Where he was listening to his favorite radio station and driving up and down the rows of corn stubble, I would sit in a cold tractor cab and sing my favorite song using a wrench for a microphone. Where he was answering texts from his friends, I was wondering what my girlfriends were doing and watching to see if I might catch the glimpse of another cute farm boy while driving my tractor through town.

And while he was eating chips and grabbing a Coke from his drink holder, I would stop at the gas station to get a pop and worry that someone would see me and tell my dad.

Technology has changed drastically from 1981 to 2014,  but the desire  to harvest a crop is the same from farmer to farmer. And this passion to produce consumable goods from a few seeds, some dirt and a little rain is part of what keeps our nation fed and our world secure.

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of Farm World. Readers with questions or comments for Melissa Hart may write to her in care of this publication.