Editorial / Opinions

Judy got home from work on Thursday afternoon, quickly changed into her work clothes and proceeded to do some yard work. When I got in from the fields about 6 p.m. and sat down at the kitchen table to drink some iced tea, I heard the back door slam and the sound of Judy’s footsteps walking much faster than normal. I looked up as she entered the kitchen to see her hair all messed up, her arms flailing around her head, her face reddened, missing a shoe and her glasses, with a hint of tears rolling down her cheek. “They got me good!” she exclaimed with a quivering voice as she headed for the garage.

I enjoyed visiting with lots of folks up at the Ozark Empire Fair this year; I hope you didn’t miss the fair. I have to say, I was really impressed with one of the exhibits I saw. I heard Larry Ellison and committee are to be thanked for the neat little breezeway off the north side of the arena. In it was a small petting-zoo type area where livestock and farm machinery were showcased, complete with educational posters. These posters explained the difference between a heifer and a steer, told how much water a cow drinks and displayed a lot of other good-to-know farm facts. Several local FFA chapters and farm families staffed the area. These kind of public relations thrusts are essential to our industry’s success in an ever-urbanizing world. Great job to all who had a part in that exhibit.

"Then there was Jerry"

Judy got home from work on Thursday afternoon, quickly changed into her work clothes and proceeded to do some yard work. When I got in from the fields about 6 p.m. and sat down at the kitchen table to drink some iced tea, I heard the back door slam and the sound of Judy’s footsteps walking much faster than normal. I looked up as she entered the kitchen to see her hair all messed up, her arms flailing around her head, her face reddened, missing a shoe and her glasses, with a hint of tears rolling down her cheek. “They got me good!” she exclaimed with a quivering voice as she headed for the garage.

I just got back from a trip to Ghana, Africa. It was a service trip of sorts, I worked at two schools, one in Accra, Ghana’s capital city, and the other in Kumasi. Ghana is the better of most African countries, it is safe, with a stable government allowing its citizens to make their way selling fruits and vegetables, eggs and fish, or an assortment of imported prepackaged items of all shapes, sizes and colors. Agriculture is a vital part of the economy of Ghana, and I witnessed this on the large scale – in the marketplaces and roadside vendors aplenty – as well as in one beautiful, yet small, example of self-sustainability.

There was something casual about Tyson Foods back when I joined them in 1963. We all wore khaki. My boss back then, Bill Martin explained that farmers were uncomfortable around folks in ties and suits. Since they were the core of our business, providing the housing and labor for the birds, it was a good idea. Don and John even wore tan outfits, (I understand Don still does).  They had our name on them so folks would know who we were. Tyson  called us servicemen, and we were a big part of the company’s management – about all of us were college graduates.

I don’t know whether the entire country has become agriculturally illiterate or just the people in Hollywood and on Madison Avenue, but I’ve about had enough.

I just got back from a trip to Ghana, Africa. It was a service trip of sorts, I worked at two schools, one in Accra, Ghana’s capital city, and the other in Kumasi. Ghana is the better of most African countries, it is safe, with a stable government allowing its citizens to make their way selling fruits and vegetables, eggs and fish, or an assortment of imported prepackaged items of all shapes, sizes and colors. Agriculture is a vital part of the economy of Ghana, and I witnessed this on the large scale – in the marketplaces and roadside vendors aplenty – as well as in one beautiful, yet small, example of self-sustainability.

And so time passes with the speed of light. Our so-recent “New Year” has passed the half-way mark and is headed for the end of the year with, if not the speed of light, a speed that each day finds us incapable of keeping up with the changes we will see tomorrow.

I don’t know whether the entire country has become agriculturally illiterate or just the people in Hollywood and on Madison Avenue, but I’ve about had enough.