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All kinds of crazy for Halloween

October 31, 2011

Recently, there has been some question as to my choice of marrying a farmer. As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been helping Jason a little more on the farm, learning things here and there (there may even be some tractor-driving going on, but not enough to mention, so I won’t mention it…). There have been some raised eyebrows (if they were your raised eyebrows, no offense, I quite like the look of them…) as to my suitability to the farm life. There have been questions as to my city-slickin’ tendencies, and whether or not I’m “bred” for this kind of existence. Well, let me just draw a line in the sand right here and now. I’m not in the slightest offended, as it’s a perfectly good inquiry as to whether or not someone is “suited” for something. However, I do feel that there are a few important facts that might need to be considered in order that you might come to your own conclusion.

Do you know any farmers? You probably do. More and more of this generation is coming to their senses about the fact that 1) it matters where our food comes from and 2) it matters how we steward that where. Well, if you do know some farmers (or some Future Farmers of America), ask yourself what kind of folk they are. I’ll put a pretty penny on the chance that they’re straight up all kinds of CRAZY. Ok, I know what you’re saying to yourself. “Jason’s not crazy! He’s the opposite of crazy! He’s calm and stable and, well, not exactly crazy.” I beg to differ. Number one, he married me, an “alternative” wife, let’s just say. That aside, however, as it is a mute point in this case, he is in fact crazy. Here’s why. You’ve got to be crazy to work from before sunrise to after sunset seven days a week, always working against a clock, against the elements, against the market, and against farming policy that will march forward in its silent war to kill the small American farmer. You’ve got to be crazy to be out in the icy winter pushing with all your might to get a 2500 pound animal to her feet when she is down. You’ve got to be crazy to pick up a calf and run with her all the way to the barn just to get her mother to follow you in (double crazy). So I will say, he and his kin-folk are all kinds of farming crazy. And I, well, am just the right match.

In honor of crazy, of Halloween, and of all those who question my genetic suitability, I present to you Specimen A. Tom. My Father.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. This dude’s CRAZY! This guy is not a father, he might not even be human! Well, he is in fact my pops, father of three, and yes, a few screws loose kinda fun. He’s crazy enough to take on business venture after business venture, to ride thoroughbreds taken off the race track, to pick up a new instrument and press on till our ears can stand it, crazy enough to dream of building a little love nest in the woods and in the mean-time pitch a few tents (lets just say for a few months) and teach his little kids to clear land and not to pee on poison ivy. He’s the kind of crazy that homesteads in the mountains of the Berkshires, raisin’ his own pigs (Sparerib and Porkchop respectively, who are now in the freezer), sheep, chickens, and turkeys, churning out sausage and growing grapes and hooking his horse Tobiah to a cart. He’s all kinds of crazy (and his teeth aren’t really that bad. Really).

Specimen B, Brenda. Brennie. Ma. Master of 7-11 (she owns and runs one with her husband Steve. Let’s just say they drink a lot of 7-11 coffee. American really runs on 7-11 people, the Dunkin’ commercial is just a conspiracy…). Brenda is the kind of crazy that will punch a horse in the face when he kicks her in the leg when she’s trying to train him. She’s the kind of crazy that will kill a coon with a stick for messin’ with her dogs in the middle of the night (true story–don’t tell the animal activists. Besides, that thing could have been rabid!). She’s crazy enough to take care of every stray cat and stray kid that floats her way, frying them both up a good steak. And she was crazy enough to to believe that her children were merely arrows that shot forth from her life, she the bow.

She followed her philosophy of raising children to its utmost, as written in the book The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you can not visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward, nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends
you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
for even as He loves the arrow which flies,
so He loves also the bow which is stable.

Specimen C: The other arrows. Jewells and Malcolm. Let’s just say they’re crazy enough to live together, and we’ll leave it at that. (It’s a sitcom people. I wish they had a blog of all the things that came out of Malcolm’s mouth, as recorded by Jewells. They could make millions. You’d be reading that blog right now instead of this one. And the number of times they get mistaken for an old married couple when they’re out and about with all their loving bickering is hilarious.)

So, you see, I come from some crazy stock too. And when I was crazy enough to marry a farmer (as deceptively sane as he may appear), I was bringin’ all kinds of crazy lineage with me. So when Jason needs a companion to run that calf into the barn, being chased down frantically by a two-ton enraged mother, I’m with him. It’s about as crazy as navigating the subway to get a seat during rush-hour. Crazy is crazy people, that’s just that. Happy Halloween.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. Jewells permalink
    October 31, 2011 12:33 pm

    What an accurate depiction of our lineage. I do love our crazy roots!

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