We're better off now, right?

As I'm driving into work this morning, I found myself directly behind this flatbed truck stacked high with rectangular-tied bales of hay. I've been there and done that! Not here in Ohio, but in "the back blocks" at Ruapekapeka Pa, my then father-in-law's piece of paradise in rural Northland New Zealand. There were 80 hectares of mostly hilly, ridged terrain, but, it fed his dry stock and kept him busy throughout the year. The "back blocks" also produced the hay he needed to feed his cattle not only on this piece of land, but his other parcel at Matawaia.

So, it's Christmas, mid summer for those in the southern hemisphere, and yes, we have had our "Christmas Pud", so it's now "all hands on deck" baling hay. It's hot as blazes. I'm relatively fit, not the 60 something body I'm carting around now. And yet, throwing those bales of hay onto that flat bed during the heat of the day, did me in. I was given a reprieve and allowed to jump on top and "stack" as the younger blokes did the heavy lifting.

Aside from my numerous learning experiences with my father-in-law come farmer, I know nothing about farming. This didn't deter me using my hands-on experience down under and massive amounts of research, to establish a narrative of what it was really like to live and farm a rural piece of land during the 19th century. You'll find in my recently released historical fiction, "Oh! Susannah", a chapter I've titled "Farming Rules The Day." This is because, back in the 1800's, nearly everyone was a farmer or a farm hand. In my research, census record after census record shows at the head of the sheet, under the "Occupation" column, "farmer" or "farm hand" and then a series of ditto marks thereafter. Farming back then, as an occupation, is what we know Computer Science to be today. Check out my website: www.beckleysbooks.com to see pictures relating to this chapter in the site's photo gallery.

In 1840, 1,344 Perry Township, Carroll County Ohio farmers produced 1,145 acres of wheat, 781 acres of corn and other crops such as oats, timothy and clover. In the 1990's, Dennis Paul's New Zealand hectares produced hay. Following that flatbed this morning took me back to "the good ole days". On the truck this morning, the bales were stacked six high and what looked to be six long, doubled at the width and stropped down rather well. I've followed a good number of these "Bedfords" down under, but coming across this flatbed today was a rarity for me here. I've spoken to a number of people in Northeast Ohio whilst I've been on this current book tour and many have mentioned how a farm that had been handed down through the generations of family now was either being sold to "developers" for the building of residential homes and commercial builders, or the farm was simply being left to sit vacant because nobody now a days wanted to work it. My take on this is one of sadness, similar to when on my travels I see farm houses and barns in obvious disrepair. Yes, sadly, our country has exchanged the act of producing something for the act of consuming something. Can we continue to "buy" our way to prosperity? Then, there is the current labor shortage, but I'll unpack that topic later in another blog.

We're better off today, right? We have all of these "things", few of which are actually produced here in this country, but that the farming families couldn't have even fathomed back then. However, back then, the work week included 70 hours routinely and ended on Saturday, allowing Sunday for the obligatory day of rest and church service. Today, many of us work "remotely" from home and some may still clock in the standard 40 hours, but in comparison with our forefather's, how strenuous are they?

I'll close with mentioning the flashback that hit me as I saw the strands of hay peel away from the bales and fly towards the windscreen of my car this morning. The year is 1974. the hill is in Canton, Ohio - directly behind the then "Mellet Mall". The final instruction from my father was, if your brakes fail on this test run of our soap box derby car, "take a hit from the bale of hale". Yes, there were volunteer fathers at the bottom of this track and if the derby car was still traveling at 30 mph after the finish line, a bale of hale was thrown at the car's nose to slow it down. My brakes worked so I never took the hit, but the dude with suspect brakes didn't get the memo and he swerved to avoid the bale of hay thrown at him and consequently rumbled over an abandoned lot of uneven terrain and simply disappeared over the ridge and into the line of traffic on the distant road.

We're better off today, right? I suppose if you no longer are part of the production for the feeding of America and the world, at least ensure you have the latest AI app, so you'll get the message in time to "take the hit" from that bale of hay that could be coming your way.