Memorial Day II

That's just what one family picked yesterday in the strawberry patch. I know I've been relentlessly pitching these little red jewels, but we had dozens and dozens of families in the patch yesterday, and the kids and I were STILL able to do a lot of easy flashlight picking last night.

I can't remember a more pleasant May in these parts for some time. We had a few hot days, but the temperature has had that "just right" feel for most of the last two weeks. Yesterday, one of our local staff members brought her husband by to the tavern, and David Leslie Thomas cajoled him into singing. He belted out a "Danny Boy" and a "How Great Thou Art" that put sandwiches back on plates and made soup spoons hover, mid-gulp.



"No fair," I told him, "making me cry on a Monday."

It being Memorial Day, we also conducted a remembrance of those who had fallen, with Jon Harmon and Sean Villareal sounding off two perfect musket blasts. The song "Taps," I believe, has roots in the Civil War, and it's a bit unnerving to play it on the fife, because it has to be rendered at a dignified, slow tempo, with no opportunity for the missed notes that might be covered up at jig or hornpipe speed. I hope I did it at least small justice.

You could say every day around here is a remembrance. That may account for why we've never been very consistent about calendaring the big holidays--July 4th, Memorial Day, Presidents Day, etc. I think that our problems as a nation are rooted, very much, in our daily forgetfulness of the past, and certainly the yearly, sanctioned, federal homages to tradition sometimes get sacrificed to television, hot dogs, and the bliss of a day off. "Holiday" after all, has its roots in the word "Holy Day." I'm not against a party, but our policy, and our culture, would be a tad more ordered, and peaceful, if we remembered the Divine Source of our blessings on a daily basis--not as a yearly afterthought.

Kevin Hauser, who also stopped by yesterday, and provided the strawberry picture above asked me words to that effect.

"Do you thank God for this place?"

"Every day!" I responded. "Every morning and every night."

Riding Weather

The Eikmeier family has been helping the boys (and the horses) get back into trail shape, and I'm on hold now with the local vet for shots and teeth floating. (I just gave up after ten minutes of saxophone jazz from the horse doctor phone exchange.) According to Linda Eikmeier, horses develop a kind of hook in their teeth that makes them head-shy and not very anxious to take the bridle or the bit--so we're getting that checked out this week. The neat thing about this place is that a lot of very talented, giving people are willing to throw their time in, to make it work.* It's a little humbling. We've got an apple-guru helping us now, a trained architect, a human resources genius, a skilled number cruncher, a life-long farmer, a former Fortune 100 staff accountant, some really fantastic country-cooks, and nearly every flavor of musical talent you can find on the melody-shelf. And that's to say nothing of the dozens of pure ham-bones we have making history fun out on the grounds everyday. I really wish it were easier to start an old fashioned, Bay Colony joint stock company, with everyone in spiritual and economic covenant. I like employees who want to be owners of something someday. If I could succeed in that goal, I'm pretty sure it would cut down on the number of ceramic mugs I have to re-purchase.

 

A Brutal Modern Secret Truth

No one else will tell you fellas this, but I will: if you are young and heart-sick, I have a simple, ancient solution for you: get married.

Find a girl who likes to work, rent an apartment, and start a family.

Modern American adolescence has been crippled by a lot of tripe from the academy and the entertainment industry and even the church. Get these lies out of your head to begin with: 1) the world has too many people. A lie. Listen to a kid laughing sometime and tell me there isn't enough room in the world for another baby. 2) Marriage is emotional slavery. A lie. Marriage is freedom from that modern social train-wreck, "dating." Marriage is getting to see your best friend every day of your life. 3) You can "play around" and not hurt anyone. A lie from the pit of raging hell. Talk to a post-abortion woman sometime, one of the ones who still has a soul. It isn't pretty. And even if you're careful, "broken hearts" sound better in country music than they do crying across the room from you. 4) You need to wait until you are financially stable until you get married. Nonsense. If that were the case, no one would be married but Warren Buffet--and who but a 24K gold-digger would want to marry him? 5) You should "see the world" and "meet lots of people" before you finally settle on "just the right one." Ridiculous. You're starting to sound like a little girl, dude. Choose carefully. But Choose. Choose life, not loneliness.

My daughter is getting married at eighteen--and I am so proud of her I will brag to any stranger I meet on the street about it. I would MUCH rather see her get married then send her off to the local junior college to slum it up with the local club-hoppers and mall addicts. (Get married and THEN go to school; it's a good hedge against some of the no-account, sleep-around set, and it's even a good emotional protection from some of the sleaze-rag faculty.) I will tell you though that Mallory was a little distressed, for a while, by all the well-meaning, but utterly un-Biblical and thoughtless advice she received from people who saw "youth ministry" or "financial security" as their modern day idols.

"Heah, Adam, I know God gave you Eve, but, like, man, are you SURE about this?"

HR 875 -- Operation Garden Kill

Picture a guy named "Skip" out on the golf course. He's a tired looking corporate executive. The guy next to him is a congressman. He looks tired too. He carries around the weight of an old family surname -- Sandborne. That's not his only problem. He's facing an election against someone who has a reputation of telling it like it is. He's going to need a very hefty campaign war chest to make his own brand of falsehood seem something like the truth.

At the end of the last hole, Skip says: "I need a favor."

Sandborne: "Shoot."

"We sell more grain and produce than anybody in America."

"Right," Sandborne says.

"We're getting tired of doing it the honest way. These farmers markets are picking up steam around the country and we want them snuffed. Terminated. Diced and juiced with extreme prejudice. You understand?"

"How we gonna do that?"

"Make them apply for a federal permit and an inspection."

"C'mon now, Skip. They ain't ever gonna do that."

"Regulate Organic completely out of existence."

"Organic? Skip. My niece is like an organic nut."

"Who butters your bread, Sandy baby?"

"Dont' get touchy. I'm just sayin--"

"I don't care what you're saying. I want these backyard tomato turks shut down before they grab share. What's good for Ag-Dax is good for Sandborne Paxton of the seventh congressional. You get me?"

Of course it doesn't happen that way in practice. Now we have congress people who are very much in touch with their feminine side, and you don't really have to use bald force anymore because the policy people don't think. A corporate goon from a huge agricultural conglomerate can call it something like the "Food Safety Act," and everybody gets weepy-eyed about protecting the public.

Believe it or not, there is a bill being considered in Congress that would make it very difficult for any small farm to take their produce to market. Here on Riley's Farm, our ox is not being gored. We sell everything we grow right here, but agriculture is good for communities and anyone who wants to throttle it--on behalf of corporate oligarchies-- doesn't really have the best interest of America at heart.

The bill should be killed--and anyone who even considers it, sponsors it, or gives it more than 30 seconds worth of thought should be remembered as the treasonous, anti-American scum they have so manifestly proven themselves to be.

..and that's my measured opinion.