Ripping the Fabric

By Melissa Hart

Imagine four-wheel drive John Deere tractors gathering cobwebs in a pole barn with doors that hadn’t been opened in months.  Can you see fallow farm ground growing up with weeds and annoying brush?  Or farm lanes that are grown over because there was no traffic in or out of the farm. The grease guns are never used, the farm implements rusting away behind the barn and no fuel trucks in and out of the driveway for lack of need. 

The neighborhood equipment dealer would cease selling new tractors, and electric lawn mowers would be the new hot item.  The parts manager would also serve as the bookkeeper, the part time mechanic and the custodian.  There would be one grain elevator to serve the entire county, one farm store would be able to serve three counties and the seed dealer and chemical salesman would be an online store somewhere in Kansas.  Stockyards would close up, vibrant diners that served local farmers would shutter their doors and the county fair would be nothing more than a carnival with a few photos of what used to be exhibits of crops, livestock and horses.

This would be the reality if the current administration decided to do to agriculture what it’s done to the fossil fuel industry.  When the drilling leases were eliminated, pipelines were shut down and we were told that clean energy is where we are headed, we took an entire industry full of owners, employees, families and vibrant towns and said, sorry, you don’t matter anymore.

When people in perceived power used their position to bend the will of an industry to their agenda of priorities and impose them on a country who’s founding was based on hard work, ingenuity and freedom, they slowly create a sluggish economy that is profitable for the powerful and merciless to Americans.

This is a country of people who not only adjust on the fly but have the tenacity to do what is needed.  During World War II our factories were changed from producing everyday goods to war-time necessities.  During Covid when we thought we needed ventilators, industrious minds and intelligent engineers backed by hard working people produced more ventilators that we could use during three pandemics.  When hurricanes hit our southern shores, people from all corners of this nation dropped their daily activities and headed to help those in need. We are rescuers. We are resilient. We are survivors.

Having a load of baby formula flown in from Europe when factories should have been ramping up production knowing one producer was shutting down is humiliating.  Buying oil from Venezuela, a country ruled by dictators, when we have plenty of our own clean oil is not only foolish but has lowered the expectations on a country of smart, proud, and ingenious people. 

We can produce our own food.  We can produce our own fuel.  We can produce our own goods and services.  But when leadership rips that responsibility from people, they not only tear away the fabric of a freedom loving republic, but they kill the spirit of a country who thrives on liberty.

Our forefathers did not fight battles in bloody bare feet to lose the war to power-hungry men in faux leather soled shoes two centuries later. Our country has survived decades of difficulty and I am confident that when we are tested, we will come forth as gold. 

Facts Are Facts

 By Melissa Hart

As I look at my keyboard, I see wrinkled hands and chipped nail polish on a 56-year-old body that has endured and enjoyed five decades as a female.  Living an imperfect life, I am a daughter, wife, mom and aunt.  And I will never be able to change that. It’s how God made me. But lately there is a loud minority of folks who want the privilege to change their gender and are trying to make the rest of us think it’s as natural as a bull sniffing the rump of a cow in heat.

There is a young college athlete who was born a male.  He was created by God as a male and no matter what, his DNA will always be XY. With that chromosomal content, he will have the tendency to be a conqueror, a protector and a fighter. But his fight is to become a woman and he is being allowed to compete in the NCAA women’s swimming events, smashing records set by women, as a man.

I will not pretend to know what is going through his mind, but I do know that he and everyone who is complicit with him competing against females is erasing the accomplishments of women’s athletics one lap at a time.

Generations of women fought for the right of women’s athletics. Rural areas are full of highly competitive girls’ basketball teams coached by the local dairy farmer. Sisters are shooting hoops with brothers in hay mows and pole barns all across this country. But when it comes to games, they are lacing up to compete with other girls.

Beyond the games, there is more to being a woman than pretty hair and make-up.  Being female is an exclusive club and if you weren’t born that way, you will never understand.  God made women to be caretakers, nurturers with the ability to love unconditionally.  A man trying to become a woman will never know the calm, contented feeling that washes over her as soon as her baby is born. He will never know the hours of labor or the intense pain of delivery.  He will never understand the heartstrings that ties a mother to her son or the unbreakable bond that she holds with her daughter.

A man will never know the depths of postpartum depression, the recuperation of a c-section while caring for a newborn or the unkindness of her favorite pair of jeans. A man will never look in the mirror and have wide hips and a pouchy belly where the world expects toned abs and sun-kissed skin with shiny, healthy hair falling down her back.

I will never discount the vital role of fatherhood.  Dads are crucial for the success of the nuclear family.  Period.

Will this man trying to be a woman ever stop numerous times during the day to wonder if their first grader is making friends? Or if their 7^th grader is getting ridiculed because of her clothes or hair?  Or if he should have stayed home with her coughing 3^rd grader?  Will he ever suffer for years from mom-guilt because she unfairly accused her 17-year-old of lying or because she lost her temper on her 9-year-old for not putting the laundry in the dryer? Probably not. Will he lose sleep because his third grader isn’t reading? Will he wake up at 3 am to make cupcakes for the classroom Halloween party?

He will never deal with postpartum flyaway hair, hot flashes, menstruation, the embarrassment of thinning hair, nails that won’t grow and leggings that never lie.

While I want to stand up for the purity of female athletics and beyond, let’s not negate the responsibility that comes with XY.  It’s greater than you think. The current culture has devalued dads for far too long. We need strong men willing to take on the task of being influential fathers.

Women have exclusive rights to growing another human, are exclusively responsible for nourishing an unborn life and delivering a joyous bundle that will have immeasurable impact on countless lives. While someone may feel like a woman, a man will never be one.  Feelings are fickle, facts are facts.

 

You Want Me to do What?

By Melissa Hart

 You want me to do what? Produce a magazine four times a year? 

I had no experience in magazines, printing, ad design, selling advertising, much less any thoughts about a media kit, cover designs, bleeds, or ad specs. I was a freelance writer.  I knew how to type words in a word document and send it to the newspaper or magazine, but to actually come up with a complete magazine, nope, not for me.

I knew I couldn’t come up with editorial content that anyone wanted to read.

I knew I would never be able to sell advertising, or come up with a reason why someone should advertise.

I knew I would never have the time to sell, write, edit and hire a designer, who was I fooling? Or better yet, what was God thinking?

My first reaction to any challenge is fear.  Fear of failure, fear of not knowing what I need to know and fear of people being disappointed in me.  I know I’m not alone, but when I’m sitting in my office and there is no one there to pat me on the back or to brainstorm ideas with, the loneliness sets in, and the fear factor rises.

While fear may be a real feeling, the fact is, God has equipped each one of us to perform the challenge that is set before us.  If we are managing a farm, taking care of people, or making financial decisions, God knows we are capable.  If we own a business, 10,000 acres or rent an apartment and work at the local retail store, God knows the level of responsibility that we can handle. 

He knows how much we can manage, how well we can perform and how far we can be pushed to accomplish His plans.  He not only knows, but He also expects us to steward the resources he gives us.  We may be in charge of our earthly responsibilities, but He expects stewarship. And when you have a God who owns it all and He also equips us with the ability to take care of his gifts, then there is no excuse or reason to retreat in fear.

 Whatever your facing, whatever decision you are making, remember that you were not gifted with a spirit of fear, but you were given a sound mind and He expects you to use it for your good and His glory.

Turning Off the Milk Pump

 By Melissa Hart

By the time you are reading this, Pleasant Meadow Farms will have dispersed their herd and the milk pump will never be turned on again by Melvin, Phyllis or Mark Fledderjohann.  When I was asked to write a feature story on this family, my first thought was, ‘They are selling out, why would I write a feature story about that?’

The Fledderjohanns have been milking Registered Holsteins on their western Ohio farm since 1968 where they provided a living for their families with 70 milk cows. Mark was the only son to come back to the farm where he and his parents have worked together for decades. He has a wife who wants to spend time with him, and two kids who need their dad’s involvement and the demand of the farm has kept him at a distance far too long, so for Mark in his late 50s, it was time to close the chapter on dairy farming. Melvin and Phyllis are in their 80s and while still in great health and with the mental attitude of a couple of 40-year-olds, they too decided it was time to retire. 

While a dispersal sale seems sad, for this family it’s different.  They are happy.  They are satisfied.  They are humble.  They didn’t break any records, win any banners or sell any cattle for big money.  They just kept their nose to the grindstone, continued to move forward and were good stewards of what God had entrusted to them.

Their work ethics matched and day after day, they used that to their advantage.  When one person wasn’t available to do something, the other two stepped into get it all done.  There is no bitterness, no angst, and no regrets.  They have spent a lifetime doing exactly what they wanted to do, and the bonus is they were incredibly successful along the way. As I interviewed them, I could see they loved working.  Phyllis said when you enjoy what you’re doing, you work all day long and at the end of the day, you’re tired, but it’s a good tired.

Pleasant Meadow Farms may not have anymore cattle, but they have a legacy of success built on years of hard work, cooperation, laughter, and love.  And that was a feature story worth writing.  

The Power of Starch

 By Melissa Hart

 

Starch was a staple growing up.  My mom would spend a few afternoons every week standing over an ironing board making sure all of my dad’s clothes were starched and looking crisp.  She didn’t stop there, she would starch her clothes, dad’s hankies, her aprons, doilies, cloth napkins that were used on special occasions and especially the tablecloths that donned the dinner table on Sunday afternoons when we were likely to have company for dinner.

Seeing my mom set up her ironing board in the kitchen was a normal part of growing up and I thought all moms did that, until I found out they didn’t. But I did.  Early in our marriage I had a big pile of ironing, just like my mom.  And within the pile, along with my husband’s shirts, his Wrangler jeans, and crocheted doilies were pillowcases.  Again, I thought everyone starched their pillowcases, until I found out they didn’t.

This led me to asking mom why on earth we starched pillowcases?  It was simple, it protected the pillowcase from the dirt and grime that can ruin or stain it. Also, it prolongs the life of the pillowcase or anything else that could be starched.  This made perfect sense, and so I continued to spray starch on the pillowcases, napkins, white shirts, doilies, and Wrangler jeans.

As the busyness of a family encroached on my available time to starch the family dress clothes, the pressed pillowcases went by the wayside. I haven’t starched a pillowcase in 25 years. But my mom on the other hand, still takes the time to carefully spray the starch on and press in the satisfying creases.

In a recent conversation the subject of pillowcases popped up when she had come across a set that were given to them as a wedding gift.  That means those pillowcases were 65 years old and still going strong, thanks to the starch. Then she told me this story; when she and my dad were newlyweds, she had just changed the sheets and as they crawled into bed he smelled the pillowcase and asked why she starched them. She explained why and he replied, “Whenever I smell the pillowcases it makes me feel like someone cares.”  That simple statement filled her up 65 years ago making her feel like she had done something right. And today, every time she starches a pillowcase that memory floods her mind and soothes her grieving soul that misses the man she loved and who’s pillowcase she starched for over six decades. 

The DAT Extra Podcast with Chris Hill is NOW LIVE!

I have a new podcast out on Spotify and Apple Podcasts!  It's the Dairy Agenda Today EXTRA Podcast with Chris Hill !

Chris and his wife, Jen, operate MD-Hillbrook in Maryland and specialize in marketing purebred dairy genetics. Chris took a few minutes out of his day while he was trucking cattle to the Maryland State Fair to visit about how he became an auctioneer and how on earth he can breath while crying a sale! 

If you enjoy the podcast, share it on your social media channels!