Farmer B & Paul Harvey - The Rest of the Farmer's Story
Expect the Unexpected
Farmer B is back to his old tricks. It’s planting season again here in the sticks of East Texas, and Farmer B could not rest until his seeds were in the ground.
Last year’s veggie patch turned into a battle zone as the cucumber vines on the west challenged the tomato vines on the east for dominance over the garden. The cukes spread out their tendrils, and the vines aggressively charged in from the western front, hogging the sunshine and choking out every fledgling veggie in their path. Meanwhile, the tomato vines burst out of Farmer’s greenhouse and laid siege to the eastern half of the garden, trampling every other plant along the way. Before long, east and west clashed midway, and the Battle of the Tomatoes & Cucumbers was on! Vine to vine, each stubbornly held their ground throughout the summer, fall, and winter months. Even freezing temperatures did not deter their territorial showdown.
Farmer B was thrilled that he had “garden-fresh,” albeit frost-nipped, cukes and tomatoes all winter. It did not matter to him one iota that by January the cucumbers looked and tasted like anemic pale-yellow mini-footballs, and the tomatoes had developed skins as thick as shoe leather.
Have you ever had one of those times when you just “know something” without being told? Well, I had one of those times a couple of weeks ago. I was driving along the highway, minding my own business, when I saw a dump truck full of manure pass by on the other side of the road. I “knew” that stinky truck was making a delivery to Farmer B.
By my way of thinking, that truckload of bull-schplut would travel five miles north, turn left at the flashing red light, and continue on the ring road for three miles, anointing everything along its route with its pungent bovine aroma.
The dumper would continue to haul its malodorous load 14 miles northwest along the farm-to-market road, before turning right at the water station onto a remote backwoods gravel-dirt road. After four miles of bouncing along the tree-lined road, dodging deep ruts and multiple road hazards, the big yellow schplut-rig would turn south, maneuver a sharp zig-zag in the road at the mailboxes, and tackle the final one-mile challenge of the journey down the mother of ALL East Texas dirt roads. It would hang a right and mosey into our yard - where Farmer B would surely be waiting, ready to direct the slick dumping of his truckload of new premium quality bull-schplut.
Of course, EVERY REASONABLE PERSON within 150 miles would “know” THAT STINKY DUMP TRUCK was making a delivery to Farmer B. It was a no-brainer!
When I returned home several hours later, my NOSTRILS detected it long before I saw it!
Sure enough! There it was, dumped right beside the garden - a big stinking mound of bull-schplut! It was déjà vu all over again - same schplut… different year. (See Farmer B’s Veggie Enterprise—05-23-23).
Unfortunately, my two black labs had ALREADY been up to their doggy antics with the dung heap. Much to my dismay, they remembered every game and move from last year.
King of the Hill - While attempting to smush the other pup into the muck as much as possible, they wrestled their way to the top of the heap. The first one to scramble to the top would be the King - the Head Honcho Bull-Schlupt Pup. The winner got to…
Lead the way sliding down in the muck - a quasi-form of bare-paw doggy skiing.
Lead the way running a victory lap around the garden, with number two hot in pursuit. The round ended with both pups rolling in the muck.
Repeat 1, 2, and 3 until completely plastered in dirt, bull-schplut, and stinking like a truckload of manure.
According to Farmer B, it is NOT MANURE. It is called “MUSHROOM DIRT” because mushrooms are grown in it. Really?! Mushroom dirt or manure - it’s the same stuff to me.
Farmer B gave both dogs a good sudsy bath and clean-up before they were allowed in my house. The next day, he graciously “distributed” the mushroom dirt, and a neighbor helped him plant Farmer B’s 2024 Veggie Patch.
Hey, if you want to get a pair of Farmer B Boots you can pick them up at Tractor Supply. Farmer B bought me a pair too… so I can mush around in his garden.
Here’s the rest of the story… (hang in there with me, it all fits together)
Perhaps you are old enough to remember national radio host Paul Harvey, famous for his daily broadcasts of “The Rest of the Story.” From 1976 to 2008, Harvey’s broadcasts were aired on 1,200 US radio stations, and globally on 400 US Military stations. His 24 million listeners tuned in as Paul Harvey represented the voice of mid-America in his rhythmic, clippy presentations of news commentaries and human interest stories. Paul received multiple broadcasting awards throughout his career, including the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2005.
Paul Harvey was a captivating storyteller who mastered the art of developing a point by sharing fascinating, uncommon, or forgotten facts about his topic. His intriguing vignettes usually ended with a variation of his famous tagline, “And now you know… the rest of the story.”
More often than not, Paul Harvey’s “Rest of the Story” left his listeners with something deeper to think about.
Paul delivered one of the most impactful speeches of his entire career, “So God Made a Farmer,” on the morning of Thursday, November 9, 1978, to the 22,000 attendees of the Future Farmers of America Convention in Kansas City, Missouri. Eight years later, when Harvey published the speech in his syndicated column it inspired and touched Americans from all walks of life and professions, not just farmers.
The REAL EVENT that sent “So God Made a Farmer” skyrocketing took place on Sunday, February 3, 2013, in New Orleans during Super Bowl XLVII, between the Baltimore Ravens and the San Francisco 49ers. The Ravens won 34-31.
Dodge Ram ran a two-minute commercial featuring Paul Harvey’s nostalgic, all-American voice reciting “Farmer” to a choreographed video backdrop of 35 images of mid-America farmers over the generations. By affirming their values and touching their hearts, the advertisement captured the attention of 108 million Super Bowl fans. It simply concluded with the image of a new Dodge Ram truck parked in front of a farm and the words, “To the farmer in all of us.”
Seventy-one thousand football fans momentarily sat silent in the Mercedes-Benz Superdome, many wiped tears from their eyes. Their dear old friend had just delivered ANOTHER powerful message and not a single one of them expected him to attend the Super Bowl game that day.
Paul Harvey was 90 years old when he died on February 28, 2009, four years before Super Bowl XLVII.
And now I will tell you …. the rest of the story.
Ram Trucks agreed to donate $100,000 to the Future Farmers of America (FFA) for every 1,000,000 views the Super Bowl ad generated on YouTube. FFA received its first payment in less than five days. Ram Truck’s “So God Made a Farmer Video” was viewed more than 10 million times on YouTube.
Here is a video sound clip of Paul Harvey reciting “So God Made a Farmer.” It is only three minutes long, but it is so powerful to hear the way that Paul Harvey presents it. There is a reason WHY this short video has generated tens of millions of hits on the internet and has become legendary. I have provided the narrative as well, but it pales in comparison to the audio version.
Paul Harvey’s “So God Made A Farmer”
And on the eighth day, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, “I need a caretaker.” So God made a farmer.
God said, “I need somebody willing to get up before dawn, milk cows, work all day in the fields, milk cows again, eat supper, then go to town and stay past midnight at a meeting of the school board.” So God made a farmer.
"I need somebody with arms strong enough to rustle a calf and yet gentle enough to deliver his own grandchild; somebody to call hogs, tame cantankerous machinery, come home hungry, have to wait for lunch until his wife’s done feeding visiting ladies, then tell the ladies to be sure and come back real soon -- and mean it"
God said, “I need somebody willing to sit up all night with a newborn colt and watch it die, and dry his eyes and say, ‘Maybe next year.’ I need somebody who can shape an ax handle from a persimmon sprout, shoe a horse with a hunk of car tire, who can make a harness out of haywire, feed sacks and shoe scraps; who, planting time and harvest season, will finish his 40-hour week by Tuesday noon, and then pain’n from tractor back, put in another seventy-two hours" So God made a farmer.
God had to have somebody willing to ride the ruts at double speed to get the hay in ahead of the rain clouds, and yet stop in mid-field and race to help when he sees the first smoke from a neighbor’s place. So God made a farmer
God said, “I need somebody strong enough to clear trees and heave bales, yet gentle enough to tame lambs and wean pigs, and tend the pink-combed pullets, who will stop his mower for an hour to splint the broken leg of a meadowlark.” So God made a farmer.
It had to be somebody who would plow deep and straight and not cut corners; somebody to seed, weed, feed, breed and rake, and disk, and plow, and plant, and tie the fleece, and strain the milk, and replenish the self-feeder, and finish a hard week’s work with a five-mile drive to church; somebody who would bale a family together with the soft, strong bonds of sharing, who would laugh, and then sigh, and then reply with smiling eyes when his son says that he wants to spend his life “doing what dad does.”
So God made a farmer.
(the grammatical errors are in the original text)
And then there is Farmer B…..
Farmer B plants his garden every year because, according to him he’s a farmer. He spent time as a kid on his grandparents’ farm in Southern Alberta. Apparently, that qualifies him to be a farmer; the profession certainly is in his family heritage. I don’t recall his grandparents growing dueling cucumbers and tomatoes, but maybe that was before my time.
Farmer B does have many of the same qualities that Paul Harvey describes. In fact, every farmer I know has those qualities. Farmers tend to be good, level-headed, multi-talented, and responsible people.
Blessings to all the farmers! If you ate today… thank a farmer. The next time you eat a cucumber or a tomato, think about Farmer B.
Black labs are great! I had a great one for 11 years! My dad, who came from farm country, used to say the smell of manure was "clean". It's certainly better than what comes out of meat-eaters!
BTW: "Garden" and "Danger" are spelled with the same letters... 😮
How ever was it that us two certified city babes, shopping maven’s extraordinaire, worldly and with a spirit of wanderlust, married a farmer!?