The picture along with this story is a children's book written by Lilian Moore and illustrated by Aldren A. Watson was written in 1968. It came into our families library about 1973 (Scholastic Book purchase) (As a kid I loved getting books from Scholastic....best day of the month)
The book became a favorite, and I proudly read it to my own children when they were little. It tells the story about a farmer getting along in years that decides the time has come when he needs to sell the farm.
Even as a kid I could not understand why the old farmer would sell his farm.... didn't he have children to inherit the place? Can anyone ever truly love an old family farm more than family...... As the book goes along the farmer speaks to several people interested in buying the place..... each potential buyer mentioned a portion of the farm they didn't like and plan to destroy......a pond, meadow and woods for instance. Hearing something he worked his whole life to perfect, the farmer would not sell them the farm.
Let me tell you a little secret, farmers may rule their farms....but farm wives' rule farmers..... and eventually the farmer bowed to his wife and agreed he would sell the farm to the very next prospective buyer, regardless of his future plans for the farm. Just minutes after making that agreement a car turned into the farm's driveway, and the wife reminded her husband of his promise......
When they walked outside, they met their son and grandson..... the proud new owners of the farm. As a boy I knew right then, one day I wanted to someday own the family farm.....
Does your family still own the family place? Most don't, as a kid I was too young to understand the full story behind the book, even though I watched it play out before my very eyes every week in communities around the country. (Farm Auctions)
Very few old farmers lived long enough to attend their own auctions.... which is probably for the best, the auction itself would likely have killed them. If you have never been to a farm auction let me set the stage for you.....
Imagine every item the farm family owned lined up in neat rows in the yard, often with overflow filling a pasture or feed lot. Lined up were tractors, plows, disc, cultivators, combines, corn pickers...... Flat hay wagons held every tool you can imagine, some in tools boxes, the most expensive one sold individually and the cheaper items may be grouped together in cardboard boxes.
The farmer's guns, and fishing gear was also for sale that day.....with farm boys all dreaming of going home with Farmer Jones' deer rifle or maybe an awesome squirrel gun just like their grandpa has...... Many dreams and broken hopes took place during those auctions, not the least of which were farm widows and a few adult children standing off to the side crying as their lives were sold off one piece at a time.
The auction would begin at 10 am sharp, with many bidders having camped out for over an hour next to an item they coveted. The neighbors all cursed the antique dealers..... Farm neighbors didn't want to take advantage of their deceased friends,.....but all the same they hoped to pick up an item they could use on their farms...... The presence of an antique dealer meant nothing sold below market value, .....and they knew the value of everything.
At 2 pm the big pieces of farm equipment sold..... and a lot of the crowd would thin out after that took place.
Up next were the farmer's trucks and cars......
At 5 pm, the house and farm sold..... or I should say they would try to sell the place, but chances are the bank had set the minimum sale price and no one was going to steal a farm. Though, I have known some wealthy men still get a bargain.......
The crowd was manly gone after that.....with just a few junk buyers left, buying items grouped together. They would grab the cardboard boxes, start the bidding at $1 and continue to add boxes until they get $5 or $10 before the auctioneer said sold..... Many times the auctioneer himself would end up buying the cheaper items, and sell them off at his own auction he held every Saturday night.
If you have ever watched an old farm wife cry as her kitchen items sold you might be able to understand the pain. Imagine watching the dishes you fed your family on for the last 50 years sell one stack after another.... The memories have to come rushing back, remembering saving up stamps to get store bought items, or thinking that each of your children sat in that old high chair decades ago. You don't want to see it all go.....but you can't keep everything, and you have to survive.
The death of a farmer, ......often means the death of a farm. Just the memories make me think it's time to grab a beer and sit out on the porch. I can look out on a subdivision where a farm once stood, and think if only the old farmer that lived here had said, ".....NO - to person that bought his place."
The book Just Right ends with the old farmer and his grandson taking down the FOR SALE sign and making a birdhouse together..... I wish the world would make a few more bird houses.
(If you enjoy my writing let me know, it helps my stories get spread to the world when you like, share and comment on my post -- I write because I enjoy the process, my life has been interesting.... hmm, well my life has been interesting to everyone but my wife and kids.... I can hear them thinking, shut the hell up old man)
