burnt
Well-known member
Original Design - Taking it in Stride
It was the hands. Once so small, but now man-sized, calloused and duly grease-stained in their cracks. Sure-gripping and able. Hands already acquainted with a man's work, showing the usual share of nicks and cuts that go with the territory. So much changed from just a few years ago that I was taken aback. Could these hands really belong to our youngest, now a man and I had barely noticed?
We walked together from the workshop to the house, good conversation making the distance close. As I turned to speak to him, another reality staggered me - I had to look up to see into his eyes. Our youngest? Such a rich moment was too short. Walk slower please, there is no rush here. But time will slow for no one, always moving forward with the next step, wherever that may take us. Had to stretch my steps longer to keep up.
And while moving forward is a necessity, the path can have its obstacles, its ups and downs. Once upon a time, the goal was clearer. But when I recently asked him of his interest in the farm, his hesitant reply ignited a smoldering anger deep within my soul. Anger directed not at him, for his reply was not unreasonable, but at those forces which align to create stupid and needless stumbling blocks to good goals. "I don't know, Dad", he said. "I wanted to. But when I saw what BSE did to you, I didn't know if I wanted to anymore."
Somewhere, some irresponsible bureaucrat was asleep at the switch and in an instant the ensuing train wreck untracked the course of the entire cattle industry. How many more, young, potential farmers saw the instantaneous devastation caused by bureaucratic bungling and, with enthusiasm blunted like a brutal fist to the nose, turned elsewhere for a career? What giddy government policy, endorsed by smiling producer groups, can undo that twisting of hope?
As rewarding as farming can be, its punishments may lash out in equal measure. Even the better times that we are seeing in the meat sector do not mitigate the damage - once bitten, twice shy. But just as much as his choice was in reaction to the beating laid on Canada's cattle men and women, I realized that my steps through difficult times will also shape his future response to adversity - did he see me stretch to take it in stride?
Before the walk from the shop was finished, it offered another view. That man beside me was once a small boy who had to run, sometimes tripping, to keep up to his dad. Now, his tall frame reversed the struggle to match steps, making me stretch to keep up. But more than that, the stature to which he had grown brought with it an assurance that he had the capability to take in stride whatever challenges he, too, might encounter.
Who knows? Those steps might even bring him back to the first work he knew, growing things that could help feed a hungry world. A simple walk across the yard with my son, triggering both pride and caution, angst and anticipation…
JES/Nov/2013.
It was the hands. Once so small, but now man-sized, calloused and duly grease-stained in their cracks. Sure-gripping and able. Hands already acquainted with a man's work, showing the usual share of nicks and cuts that go with the territory. So much changed from just a few years ago that I was taken aback. Could these hands really belong to our youngest, now a man and I had barely noticed?
We walked together from the workshop to the house, good conversation making the distance close. As I turned to speak to him, another reality staggered me - I had to look up to see into his eyes. Our youngest? Such a rich moment was too short. Walk slower please, there is no rush here. But time will slow for no one, always moving forward with the next step, wherever that may take us. Had to stretch my steps longer to keep up.
And while moving forward is a necessity, the path can have its obstacles, its ups and downs. Once upon a time, the goal was clearer. But when I recently asked him of his interest in the farm, his hesitant reply ignited a smoldering anger deep within my soul. Anger directed not at him, for his reply was not unreasonable, but at those forces which align to create stupid and needless stumbling blocks to good goals. "I don't know, Dad", he said. "I wanted to. But when I saw what BSE did to you, I didn't know if I wanted to anymore."
Somewhere, some irresponsible bureaucrat was asleep at the switch and in an instant the ensuing train wreck untracked the course of the entire cattle industry. How many more, young, potential farmers saw the instantaneous devastation caused by bureaucratic bungling and, with enthusiasm blunted like a brutal fist to the nose, turned elsewhere for a career? What giddy government policy, endorsed by smiling producer groups, can undo that twisting of hope?
As rewarding as farming can be, its punishments may lash out in equal measure. Even the better times that we are seeing in the meat sector do not mitigate the damage - once bitten, twice shy. But just as much as his choice was in reaction to the beating laid on Canada's cattle men and women, I realized that my steps through difficult times will also shape his future response to adversity - did he see me stretch to take it in stride?
Before the walk from the shop was finished, it offered another view. That man beside me was once a small boy who had to run, sometimes tripping, to keep up to his dad. Now, his tall frame reversed the struggle to match steps, making me stretch to keep up. But more than that, the stature to which he had grown brought with it an assurance that he had the capability to take in stride whatever challenges he, too, might encounter.
Who knows? Those steps might even bring him back to the first work he knew, growing things that could help feed a hungry world. A simple walk across the yard with my son, triggering both pride and caution, angst and anticipation…
JES/Nov/2013.
