Mourning the Loss of a Generation

I cried last night as I glanced at the obituaries in The Livingston County News.  A friend of my father's passed away earlier this month at the age of 94 and I missed calling hours and the funeral.  He was a farmer. I don't think my tears were as much about having missed my chance to pay respects as they were about me missing my dad.  My father was a member of what I consider to be the greatest generation that our country will ever know.  In my opinion, no generation after (especially my own) is as hard-working, as ambitious,  as patriotic, as honest, as loyal to friend and family, as wise, as conscientious, as dedicated, as willing to give of their time, as God-fearing, etc., etc., etc....as the generation born in the early 1900's.  They lived through the Great Depression, many fought in WWII, a majority of them retired from the first job they ever had, and plenty were married for an amount of time that most of my generation cannot fathom (my father's friend mentioned above was just 4 months shy of his 70th wedding anniversary). And the women from that generation - wow! Many had to work jobs outside the home in order to make ends meet, which was a new concept for that day, and whether they stayed at home or went to work, many raised a number of children, baked bread from scratch, washed clothes with old-fashioned wringer washers, put a homemade meal on the table every night - with dessert, kept immaculate houses, fed the chickens, did the gardening, saw their husbands off to work or out to the field, packed lunches, were very involved with church activities and ladies groups, etc. - something I'll keep striving for!  I feel extremely blessed and privileged to have had such a close relationship with that generation.  For most of my peers, that generation was their grand-parents and great-grandparents.  That's the generation that raised me, however.  My father was 60 years old when I was born.  He passed away at the age of 83 and I was 23 at the time.  Born in 1922, he gave me a perspective on life and raised me in a manner much different from the ways my peers were raised.  As I've grown, I've learned to be very grateful for my upbringing - grateful for the work I was made to do without getting an allowance, thankful for the music I heard, appreciative of the example he set before me of working hard and doing things the right way the first time and being conservative in the choices we make, the money we spend, the energy we use, and being kind and helpful to those around us. In addition to living with him, I was very close with my Aunt Jane, who was born the year the Titanic sank, lived with us for the last 3 years of her life, and died at the age of 97 - right here in the same farmhouse she was born in.  My childhood was spent around many other great people of that generation, and sadly, most of them have passed on.  I could ramble on and on. I'll close with this - if you have someone from this generation I speak of in your life, cherish them, listen to their stories, learn all you can, you'll be glad you did.

Being a Farmer's Daughter

What do you think of when you hear the words, "The Farmer's Daughter"?  Most likely something from a country song comes to mind.  Perhaps an image of a beautiful blonde with a tan and cut off jeans, plaid shirt, and cowboy hat?  Well, I am far from fitting that picture.  I believe being the daughter of a farmer is far more than an outward appearance or the daily tasks one might go about, but rather it is an inward set of values and experiences that I will forever carry with me.

My father instilled in me the values of hard work, honesty, and perseverance.  Whether it's a good trait or not, he gave me my streak of perfectionism.  Growing up on a farm and in a farming community can teach you a tremendous amount about life, death, loyalty, friendship, economics, government (usually not anything positive), weather, math, science, and the environment.  Farm-life is also one that affirms God's existence.  It is difficult to watch a baby calf being born or crops growing and not believe in God as the creator of life.  

I have always been proud of my farm upbringing and always will be.  The experiences I have had are ones I would love for my own children to have and hopefully I (with the help of God and my hubby) can make that happen. I am not afraid to get dirty and I am eager to get back to a simpler way of life. Here we go!