Editorial / Opinions

I ran into an old cowboy friend of mine at the local livestock auction barn last week. I could hardly recognize him with his arm in a sling, two swollen and black eyes, and a hitch in his get-along that was noticeably worse than his normal gait.

I spoke recently with a colleague about a topic we’d both been thinking about a lot lately. Many of you fear coming changes in agriculture policy, and the impact of PETA and the HSUS on your business. Worse, you feel your hands are tied to really have a voice in doing anything to influence the public.

A few issues back I told you about some of the adventures I had with the smelly species of skunks. Here's another skunk tale...

There were lots of ways I justified the purchase of my last farm, some five years ago. It was only a mile from our house; it bordered one of my other places; it had a year-round spring on it that has never been known to go dry and, everyone (including my Farm Credit agent) thought I bought it below the going price of land at the time. The REAL reason, however, is simply because it reminded me of the home farm where I was raised.

Today I am missing someone who is only with us in our memories now. He hasn’t been gone very long, and until just the other day I wasn’t missing him, because I thought he would be there just like all the times before. Whether he sat down beside me in the cafe or parked in a chair out in front of the auction ring, I was always honored that a man like him cared enough about me to want to talk to me. His overalls were always crisp, his cowboy hat always looked just right and he always had a grin and a story. Looked like a farmer to me, and boy did he know the cattle market. I guess you could say he was a pioneer in that area. As I got to know him better, I found that his expertise was sought out in other businesses as well.

I spoke recently with Chuck Hubbert, from MFA, about a topic we’d both been thinking about a lot lately. Many of you fear coming changes in agriculture policy, and the impact of PETA and the HSUS on your business. Worse, you feel your hands are tied to really have a voice in doing anything to influence the public.

The Best of Frank Farmer

He was the first prairie chicken I’d ever seen, and I called him “Lonesome.”

One morning last week, my wife nonchalantly asked if she could borrow my Jeep for the morning. Most men subscribe to the “what’s mine is yours” philosophy and would simply have said, “Sure, take the Jeep, ‘cause I’m using the truck all day to feed cattle.” Those men are not married to my wife and don’t know her track record with unfamiliar vehicles.

There are times when I’m reminded how fragile life really is. The idea of my life and the lives of those around me being a vapor – here today, with the very real possibility of them being gone tomorrow – reminds me to appreciate every minute of life I have. There have been many sorrows and deaths, and even a few escaped tragedies recently. They've all made me think. One tragedy escaped was when my sister was in a really scary car wreck a few weeks back. She somehow walked away from her totaled SUV unscathed. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to drive past the spot of her car wreck without thanking God for his mercy.

Afew weeks ago a lady from the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum called and left a message on my phone to call her. I got back to her the next day, knowing I didn’t owe the Cowboy Hall any money, so what was the risk? She was very pleasant, and laughed about my message on my phone you get when you call me and I’m not here.