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The Fair: Mine and Theirs

27 Oct

I enjoy the Fair, but it is apparently not for the typical reason.

As a child, my parents would take me to the Fair each year. It was a wonderful afternoon of seeing most of our fellow farming friends, all of the animals and their ribbons, all of the exhibits in the hall, and eating all of a Polish dog with some of the trimmings. For me, the very best part of the day was the smells! There are a few animals for which their scents just make me happy: Cows, horses, and bunnies (there are others who like these smells too!). I can do without the scent produced by pigs and wet sheep.

As I grew up, I offered to take my youngest niece and nephews to the Fair. However, once we arrived at the Fair, we did not see eye to eye. Sure, my parents had taken me on a ride or two, but that wasn’t the thrill of it to me. My nephews didn’t have the Farm Bureau group meeting in their home a couple of times a year. They didn’t grow up knowing their milk man and milk tester. Sure, their mom had chickens and turkeys, and their dad occasionally had a cow or two, but it wasn’t the same farming community that my parents had as full-time Dairy Farmers. When we got to the Fair, they didn’t recognize the names of nearly all of the people showing animals. Don’t get me wrong, they knew many people there and their animals and they know about the rigors of farming, but the sight of these animals didn’t bring them the joy it brings to me. For them, it was the rides.

In the end, I’d make them look at least half of the animals as well as a few entries in the exhibit hall. Then I’d buy a night of rides. They were okay (I don’t care for rides that are not permanently installed and embedded into the ground). The one area we did all agree on was the tasty treats: elephant ears, snow cones, and Polish dogs.

I still enjoy the Fair. I just declare beforehand that I WILL be looking at ALL of the animals WITH the wee one I bring. Only then will I buy a large round of rides on those creepy, unattached monstrosities.

Moral of the Story: We are not all entertained by the same things. For some, it’s a barn filled with smelly creatures, and for others it’s the excitement of a roller coaster.

IMG_2269 Sign

 
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Posted by on October 27, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Dinner Bell

09 Sep

This is our old family dinner bell. When I was little, my mom would go into the backyard and ring it when meals were ready. We needed it because she couldn’t always find everyone to hunt them down to come in to eat. Also dinner time changed with the seasons. We ate a bit earlier in the winter and later in the summer – always depending on how many hours of sunshine in a day.

Over the years, the farm has not needed the bell anymore. Now, it is surrounded by a lilac bush and other trees and brush. You’d have to look to find it.

It is a relic on our farm, but one that still brings back happy memories of mealtime together with family, farm hands, friends, and good food. My friends were often smiling at first when my mom told them that everything on the table but the salt, pepper, and butter came from this farm. After a moment, they’d look at their meat and think of the cows in the dairy barn or the pigs in their pen and frown. One of us would look at that friend and say, “Yes, that too.”

This memory always brings a smile. I know how odd it can seem thinking of what you’re eating differently when it relates to what you just pet in the backyard. And yet, eating meat that way is far healthier than the single patty at McDonald’s which is a compilation of 100’s of cows. Plus, each cow or pig lived a fairly long life and was treated with the utmost respect, a healthy diet, and room to roam. Only 100 years ago, this is how we all ate meat. Don’t worry, I still respect my vegetarian and vegan friends.

I also remember eating potatoes from our own garden all year because they were stored in the well house, veggies from the garden and fruit from the trees because they were canned or frozen, and there is nothing like that home-canned tomato juice! Now my juices are flowing!

Moral of the Story: Farming – a way of life, or a life few will ever know again?

IMG_4099 Sign

 
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Posted by on September 9, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Good Kid Discount

08 Feb

Today I read an article on “Shine from Yahoo” about a restaurant that gave a “Well Behaved Kid Discount”: http://shine.yahoo.com/parenting/restaurant-gives-family-discount-having-well-behaved-kids-192500505.html. I was very impressed that a restaurant did this, and yet I know some very well behaved kids myself whose parents should have been receiving this discount for years.

My great nephew Lukas and great niece Nicole are amazing kids. Their parents can be a bit strict, but the pay off is huge! Every  moment I’ve spent with their children, I have found pleasant. Every time I’ve taken them to a restaurant has been a dream come true:

  • They do not whine about the wait
  • They read the menu and make good selections
  • They entertain themselves while waiting for the meal
  • They talk with me about life and school
  • They gladly take home any leftovers
  • They never talk bad about anyone in the restaurant or any food they didn’t really like
  • They always say “please” and “thank you” throughout the adventure

There was one interesting time eating with Lukas (about five-years old) that I will never forget. All of the above was true, but there was a twist. Before taking him to a late lunch, we had spent the morning at “Ag Days” which used to come to a local mall. There were farm animals to pet, all of the details about dairy cows and chickens, tables explaining gardening and canning, samples of locally grown foods, and much more.

After our festive morning, I took him to eat at the local Big Boy on his way home. After ordering burgers, we talked about what we’d seen in the morning and some of the take aways he was given (the people had been super nice to him and made it fun). Then, our food came. You know, cow meat. But he’d just pet a cow and her baby. He took one look at that sandwich and asked me where the meat on it came from. I told him the truth. He laid the patty aside and put it under a napkin.

Lukas ate all the rest of his meal that day, minus the patty. He never complained or asked for a different meal. He just ate what remained on his plate – a cheese sandwich with fries. I don’t believe he’s taken issue with meat since, but I will never forget his gentle manners that sunny afternoon when he was sad to learn about where our meat comes from and what it looks like before the meal.

Morale of the Story: My great niece and nephew are awesome, and their parents have given this world two beautiful, irreplaceable gifts I count as blessings daily. Talk about well behaved kids? I can do it all day long.

 
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Posted by on February 8, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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I am Not more than a Pretty Face

03 Feb

IMG_5671 Talk Small Sign

Taken at the Kalamazoo Fair 2010.

 
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Posted by on February 3, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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The Girls and their Jokes

03 Feb

IMG_2274 Signed

Taken at the Kalamazoo Fair in 2011.

 
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Posted by on February 3, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Ain’t She Pretty?

01 Feb

IMG_9431 Small NameAin’t she pretty?

Ain’t she sweet?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo taken at the Kalamazoo Fair

 
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Posted by on February 1, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Not Even in the Meatloaf

08 Jan

I was raised on the family farm. This farm included dairy cows, pigs, apples, and peaches. What a wonderful place to learn of life’s sorrows and joys, hard work and festive play.

One such joy is the food on the farm. Well, it’s also a sorrow – because I don’t enjoy gardening nor preparing my own meat. Fortunately, mom took care of the gardening after I repeatedly pulled out all of the carrots while weeding. Also, dad sent the cows and pigs to a local meat processor so it came back in nice little packages for the freezer.

It was delightful to grow up on our own beef, pork, veggies, milk, peaches, and apples. All were deliciously prepared by my mom’s loving hands after being nurtured by my father and brother.

Eventually, as is common in Michigan, the deer in our area became too numerous, and hunting needed to be done. The deer were eating the crops – both for cow feed and my brothers fruit trees. In being thankful for the opportunity to hunt on our land, hunters would give us the gift of deer meet.

This is where the problem comes in. I was raised on home-grown cow. The meat is smooth and tasty. Not grainy like liver can be. To me deer meat is grainy. Also, it’s raised more on corn and wheat. Not as much hay. That makes it more gamey.

All others in our house enjoyed deer meat. Well, so far as I can tell, they like ALL meat. But this is about deer. So my mom tried to hide it.

Let’s just say that I can taste it and find the texture of it even in meatloaf that is 1/3 sausage, 1/3 cow burger, and 1/3 deer burger. I can detect the undesirable texture in well seasoned spaghetti or lasagna. I can identify it in potent chili. There’s no disguise that worked. To me, it’s not palatable.

If you like it, you’re always welcome to my portion. Please!

Morale of the Story: Sometimes you just can’t hide anything.

 
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Posted by on January 8, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Cow Cusser

02 Jan

My dad was the sweetest, kindest, most gentle person you’d ever have met. He wasn’t big on hugs, but he enjoyed spending time with those he loved. He was slow to anger and quick with a kind word. He took his time explaining most things, so long as time was available.

My dad was a faithful Christian through all of life’s toils and troubles, and believe me, he had more than his share. He led Sunday school, served on every church committee, and attended Sunday school until only two weeks before he passed on.

He was an animal whisperer. He could talk an animal into pretty much anything be it cat, dog, or cow. They were happy to do all things good for someone who understood them so well.

But he did use a language that my mom strongly disagreed with when bringing his dairy cows into the barn for the twice daily milkings. He could cuss out any cow who did not find her station in a timely manner … or who tried out another station, usually to have a few extra bits of grain.

This sweet man who could remain calm in emergencies and laugh so easily could swear better than the best of them at his bossies. I have not heard anyone cuss like my daddy could. Not sailors, not cowboys, not military men. It sure made for a fun part of the day for me to hear him tell the cows where to go and how to get there if there was any disagreement on their location in the dairy barn. It was a boring night when they all went in their assigned spots.

Morale of the Story: Everybody’s got to let off steam. Some are more entertaining to their family in doing so.

 
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Posted by on January 2, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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