The damnpolitician and the farmer
They assumed people like you and me would give time to our country and return home to live as everyone else, rather than staying in Washington becoming a member of the political aristocracy, becoming a career politician. Perhaps one of the greatest failures of the Founding Fathers was not anticipating the career politician.
When hunting pheasants in Kansas, one of my brothers was staying with a farmer he knew. One day the farmer told him he was in his 40s before he learned that “damnpolitician” was actually two words — and he is still suspect that it is not true.
But, what if we could pick who runs for president. What if we could pick someone more like us and less like “them?” What if we could pick someone who is not a damnpolitician? Who might we select?
I was thinking back to where I was raised in rural Nebraska. Fall Saturdays were reserved for pheasant hunting which meant talking with the many farmers dad knew so we could get permission to hunt on their land. Without knowing it, I learned a lot about values, character and common sense while listening to dad and the farmers.
The Founding Fathers could have demanded a certain education, certain schools, certain careers of those who would lead our country. But they did not. Was it because they were more interested in the very same values, character and common sense I experienced listening to dad and his friends?
And what about the farm work ethic? I cared for a retired farmer some time ago. Explaining to him he needed to let me admit him to the hospital, he informed me he was retired and could do just as well at home. So I asked him what he did the last few days. He helped one neighbor unload some cattle and another put up some hay, his wife adding, “Twelve hours each day.” That is what he considered to be retired; 70 years old, ill with pneumonia, and still able to outwork me and most other men.
And how do farmers treat their source of income, their land? They rotate crops, rest the soil and take good care of the land, maintaining its productivity. They do not just take and take and take until the land is destroyed with nothing left to give.
Sadly, the government is not as smart as the farmer; it takes and takes and takes with no concern about destroying its source of income — the taxpayer. Imagine if we could teach a politician to treat the taxpayer with the same reverence and respect the farmer treats the land.
So, what could a rural family farmer really bring to the most powerful office in the world? Probably not an Ivy League education. Probably not a law degree. Probably not the proper status in society. But a farmer would bring the character and values we sorely need in Washington, the rural common sense and seasoning in such short supply.
Consider the benefits of a family farmer as president. They do not spend money they do not have. They save for what they need. They run one of the most difficult businesses there is and love it.
They can pull a calf, drive a tractor, set a budget, meet a payroll and balance the books while deciding what to do as they watch a hailstorm destroy their crop.
And when the day’s work is finally done, they sit back and say, “What a great life. Thank God I’m an American.”
Maybe anyone wanting to run for the presidency should be required to spend a year on a family farm — working, learning, seasoning. It couldn’t hurt.
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