“I’ll sell it the minute you turn in the driveway! I raised you to know better!”
- Dick Heston (1933 – 2002), this quota circa 1986-ish, when I told him I wanted to come home and farm
He was probably right (he usually was right), yet this past weekend was amazing!
For me, the smell of diesel exhaust is triggering in the most positive way imaginable. A covering of corn dust seems more “right” than the sweat from the gym after a workout, too. After a weekend spent “running grain cart” during my buddy’s corn harvest, I feel nostalgic over “what if I’d have been a farmer?”
Dad did raise me to know better, and our small farm wouldn’t have supported both of us, anyway. So, I begin my white-collar work week with a grateful heart for my buddy trusting me with his $300,000 equipment, the time spent in the sun, dust, and diesel exhaust, and a fresh perspective on making a difference in his setting, not mine.
I also might have more of an issue with corn dust than I did as a kid, but every sniffle, cough and watering eye was worth it.
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