These Are the Good Old Days...A Christmas Card

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be light..."

"Here we are as in olden days

Happy golden days of yore

Faithful friends who are dear to us

Gather near to us once more"

Merry Christmas Letter to all of you! Our 2016 report is blessedly full of gathering together, of celebration and exploration, and that means taking our show on the road.  What better introduction than these lyrics from 'Gypsy'?

Wherever we go, whatever we do

We’re gonna go through it together

We may not go far but sure as a star

Wherever we are it’s together

The first of the year found us unloading the Hurst Greenery semi  in Ben, Kenzie and Levi's new home just south of I 435 and a soybean field.  The cousins helped put away Levi's toys while the rest of the crew settled furniture and stacked boxes.

That was just a warmup to the main act:  an Orlando extravaganza orchestrated by the travel team of Schlueter/Harms and enlivened by the addition of Alissa and Bella.  Blake and I: just along for the rides...at Disney World,  Disney Hollywood Studios, and an emergency run from Celebration to rescue Alissa's wallet!  Fourteen of us in a vacation home, kids in the heated pool, watching alligators at Wild Florida! and eating oysters at Cocoa Beach: our Missouri posse found laughter aplenty on our winter getaway....

You gotta have heart

All you really need is heart

When the odds are sayin'

You'll never win

That's when a grin

Should start.

February and March are months that require both teamwork...and heart.  The greenhouse we began to build in January got finished in March; we moved the first plants in as the last bit of wiring was tested.  Aaron took another trip to D.C. with us, destroyed his first lobster dinner and visited Thomas Jefferson's library in the Library of Congress.  We used Lee's birthday as an excuse for a girls' night out to see 'Newsies' at the Orpheum.

It's a fine life

Carrying the banner through it all

A mighty fine life

Carrying the banner tough and tall

See the headline

Newsies on a mission

Kill the competition

Sell the next edition

What a fine life

Blake's the kind of guy who's always carrying the banner...for all of us in agriculture.  His roadshow takes him in front of the Family Farm Alliance in Las Vegas, on a panel for the NPR show 'Going There: How We Eat' in Kansas City, and digging in for the groundbreaking at the new Science Center exhibit "Grow" in St. Louis.  He might have set a record for turnaround time between suit coat and overalls the last week in April when he drove to the greenhouse from St. Louis, changed clothes, and took off that afternoon in the truck and trailer for Davenport, Iowa.  

Through thick and through thin

All out or all in

And whether it's win, place or show

With you for me and me for you

We'll muddle through whatever we do

Together, wherever we go

In April and May, it's all about teamwork...and muddling through whatever we do.  'Nuff said!

June ushers in our favorite season of the year: baseball season!  Whether its a weekend tournament in Burlington Junction, or pitching practice during a backyard barbeque, baseball is a welcome break from the other family activity: planting mums.  

Days may not be fair always,

That's when I’ll be there always.

Not for just an hour,

Not for just a day,

Not for just a year,

But always.

We celebrated Millie and Charlie's 60th anniversary with a blowout party at the Community Building, with friends, lots of family,  food, dancing, cake, fireworks (by special dispensation), and photographic foolishness. A slide show brings back so many happy memories...but even a hundred photos merely scratches the surface of the full, lively, loving, and busy, "always" of this special couple.

More baseball...in St. Louis.  More family..wearing Farm Bureau shirts of  Cardinal Red.  More fireworks....at Redbarn in California. Ping pong in the barn loft, horseshoes in the orchard (team Mark always wins!), home-made ice cream, the Grand Old Flag, and fireworks debris raining down on the venerable red barn make for an evening to remember for young and old.

Take me out to the ball game

Take me out with the crowd

Buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks

I don't care if I never get back

Let me root, root, root

For the Cardinals.....

And we're off...again!  This time for the second annual baseball road trip...in Milwaukee for a matchup between the Brewers and the Cards at Miller Park.  From points south, west and east, we converge to eat barbeque (of course), walk along Lake Michigan, and toast a Cards  victory with a brew or two, of course!

Don´t know why

There´s no sun up in the sky

Stormy weather...

Don't get me wrong...we credit the stormy weather in July for the bountiful harvests of October.  But the constant rains and the hot weather in between were not ideal for our field grown mum crop.  The Lord giveth, but the weather taketh away.....

No rain for the Northwest Tractor Cruise, a gathering where little boys in rubber boots who love green machines can find happiness.  No rain, just dripping sweat, for the Atchison county fair where kids with red faces and sodden tees nudged their pigs around the sandy ring and smiled for the buyers at the auction.  

No better reward for all that effort than a trip to the beach. Good sports that Aaron, Lizzie, Gabe, Abbie and Josh are, they endured the 16 hour road trip from Tarkio to Destin with liberal application of movies and a system for trading seats every two hours or so. Trampolines and sandcastles, oysters for Grandpa Blake and cheeseburgers for Joshie,and the steady rotation between pool and beach made for very quiet mornings at the Sandestin Hilton.

Sleepy in Sandestin

Sure, there was an election this year.  But before that...and after that, there were birthdays to celebrate with trips to the zoo and t-ball, big sombreros and tacos.  There was yet another family move...yeah, we don't do that for a hobby, but we've had a lot of practice....when Ann, Matt and crew picked up fifteen years of life and stuffed it into a smaller house and garage while they wait to build their new home out on the farm. There was a brand new school year with a seventh grader in the family and a new cycle of fall sporting events.

I don’t feel very different

She said I know it’s strange

I guess I’ve gotten used to

These little aches and pains

And it's fall with those late mums blooming, and combines bringing in record yields around the wet spots, and trips to pumpkin patches and football games and fundraisers and a birthday with a zero and a beautiful new quilt to grace the old old bed in the "little kids" room.  

Someday soon, we all will be together

If the fates allow

Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow

So have yourself a merry little Christmas now

We offered our Thanksgiving for all God's blessings this year and pray for His presence in our homes and hearts during this Advent season.  Being together is one of the greatest gifts granted and we are blessed every Christmas we celebrate with our loved ones, even as we  accept the imperfections and "muddling" that accompanies our daily life.  

Last weekend we walked through big fat flakes of falling snow to the blazing lights of the Private Bank Theater and the star power of 'Hamilton'.  This weekend we crunched through the sub zero snow to bask in the glow of the familiar surroundings of the Liberty Theater and sing along with the cast of "White Christmas".  With that show in mind, here's our parting Christmas wish for you....

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white

"Hard Boiled Egg"

The Massachusetts Minimum Size Requirements for Farm Animal Containment, also known as Question 3, was on the November 8, 2016, ballot in Massachusetts as an indirect initiated state statute. It was approved.

A "yes" vote supported this proposal to prohibit the sale of eggs, veal, or pork of a farm animal confined in spaces that prevent the animal from lying down, standing up, extending its limbs, or turning around.

A "no" vote opposed this proposal.

Millie:  "There were always nine people to feed."

 "We ate A LOT of eggs."

Diane: "I have experienced hunger and homelessness with my family.'

"I have pawned jewelry inherited from my grandmother to feed my children."

"I have dug through my sofa for enough change to buy a dozen eggs for dinner."

Millie: " We 'd walk by Grandma's after church after she'd  baked bread.  If she was home we'd stay and visit.  If she wasn't, we ate all her food. We'd spread mustard on the homemade bread..."

 "Mom baked bread every Saturday; she made loaves enough to last all week.  She baked home made donuts with some of the dough. The older kids told us younger ones biting into a donut hole would kill us.  And when we left a chewed around hole behind, the older kids came after and ate them all.....  

Diane: "I was a mom and grandma struggling to pay my bills, working two jobs, unaware that so much money and effort was being earned and spent to bad mouth our food system, those who grow, and those of us who do not eat from their politically correct menus."

"I had no idea how indifferent the food police are to those who struggle and cannot afford to take our food for granted."

"Ninety percent of egg customers vote for conventional eggs when we shop, yet big retail ag let themselves be bullied by vegans who, ironically, are not even their egg and meat customers."

Diane: "The perception that farm groups are going after federal nutrition spending for the poor divides the urban and rural coalition, playing right into the hands and policies of the food police."

 Dianne Sullivan is standing in front of 1200 Missouri farmers, a moral force behind the podium, her sentences short, her message stinging  like BBs.  

"We must be more united and assertive in protecting and distributing our abundance."  

"We must have the voices of victims in this debate join with those who produce."

"The voice of low and middle income consumers can no longer be excluded from the negotiating tables."

"It is imperative that we restore the farm bill coalition, uniting urban and rural partnerships, to promote food security and protect our dinner plates from the self-appointed food police."

Dianne is speaking to us food producers about food consumers....not the consumers that propelled Massachusetts Question 3 to victory in November, not the ones purportedly eating their sausage and eggs without guilt, knowing the hog wallowed and the chicken scratched before becoming over easy in a quaint New England diner. No, the consumers Diane is speaking for are people like my mother-in-law and most farm families in the not so distant past: hard working, hard scrabble, hand to mouth folks. People on a budget, people who cut coupons, people whose grocery carts have gallons of milk, peanut butter, eggs, and whatever is on sale that week. The "food elite" and "food police" Diane dismisses might consider a pantry full of such basics barren in taste or choice, but it offers what is most necessary: bounty and energy at a reasonable price. Her emphasis on the cost of food is a necessary and potent reminder to those of us who grow it: our allies in the debate about the indispensability of scientific and modern inputs and methods in agriculture cannot afford the luxury of free range, GMO free, or other even less measurable and efficacious adjectives to describe their dinner. They are even more powerless against the bankroll and celebrity cache' of organizations like HSUS and the Sierra Club. ( More endorsements of Question 3)

Diane: "As you know, corporate agriculture and big retail has the ability to pinch producers on one end and pass costs on to consumers on the other end, making it all too easy for some of them to lie down, roll over, and play dead, whenever HSUS marches in with their list of demands. " 

"As I shared before every Massachusetts audience I encountered, question 3 is a regressive food tax, hitting poor people the hardest and according to Cornell, will cost consumers nearly $250 million in higher food costs the first year alone."

"This is the definition of social injustice: those elite with money and satisfied choices imposing burdens on those with neither."

Those of us who are the second and third ....or the fourth...or fifth generations of family farmers...have heard tell how our parents, grandparents, and ancestors worked and sacrificed to make a living and feed their families. Their stories are our heritage...and our conscience in the food fights of this era of prosperity. The mindset that ignores the well being of our neighbor in pursuit of some endgame in which animals are landscape, not menu, is not merely selfish, but immoral. Food is for people and farmers' mission is to provide it the best way they know how. To that end:

Diane: "American agriculture does provide the safest abundance in the world."

"It does so more sustainably than anywhere else in the world."

"American agriculture is the envy of the world".

"American agriculture will decide whether growing world food demand is met or, tragically, whether we fail."

"How much courage should it take to stand up for that?"

 "This is a call to action. And remember, in the end, you will be judged by your actions, not your intentions. You may have a heart of gold, but so does a hard-boiled egg."

Because of Taco Bell

Once a week, after we were married but still in college, I'd meet my mother for lunch at the Taco Bell on Missouri Boulevard in Jefferson City.  It was a treat for both of us back then: a chance to visit for an hour face to face in the days before cell phones when gas was cheaper than a long distance call.  She walked down the hill from where she worked in the Missouri Farm Bureau building; when lunch hour was over, I'd drop her off at the front door.  She worked in Brokerage in those days..and believe me when I say that was just about the sum total of my knowledge about Farm Bureau ...

My folks were members; the Missouri Farm Bureau reward sign was nailed to a post by the driveway soon after they purchased their farm in Moniteau county. And my mom was the one who nudged us into joining once we moved back to Atchison county.

 Harry Broermann was the county president; he stopped by to visit with Blake about Farm Bureau while we lived in the house on North 4th.  We attended a Young Farmer and Rancher conference at Tantara and took our first trip to Washington, D.C. in 1982, staying in the Hotel Washington.  The top floor overlooked the Treasury Department and the White House....not a view available in these latter days! We visited the glorious ballroom at the State Department and toured the White House; quite the coups even in the '80s and nigh impossible these days.  When Aaron and I tried to get a picture of the White House in March, I had to use my zoom lens just to get them both in the picture!

White House aside,  Blake and I, Lee, Ann, and Ben...and other friends and family...got up close and personal with our nation's capital on these three and four day trips; past and present, history and policy, mingled to give us an education and experience most tourists never see from the Trolley or their walk through of the Smithsonian.

Through the years,  the policy wonks and famous authors, journalists and generals,  historians, and of course, politicians we listened to brought D.C. to life for visiting farm families from more than a thousand miles west of the Beltway.

State-side, our family looked forward to attending the Annual Meeting the first weekend in December. It was our first break from farm work after a long harvest.  When the kids were young, it counted as a vacation: Tantara was quite a bit nicer than any motel we ever stayed in.  My mother was personnel manager by then, responsible for the registration process. Not only were we "on vacation", the girls got to play with their grandparents too!  My father took the kids swimming; we would play ping pong around the pool.  Some years we went ice skating; we walked through the shops, bought caramels, and ate a big buffet breakfast with a lake view.  Blake followed the policy discussions closely, learning the nuts and bolts of both process and personalities.  It was our first opportunity to do something on our own.

A trip to Tantara for Annual Meeting has been as traditional as putting up a Christmas tree.  Lee, Ann, and Ben used to sit in the back row with their crayons and the back pages of the Resolutions book.  Our friend Greg Gaines entertained our kids..and has now spent several years entertaining the next generation!  Several years we left for Farm Bureau meeting after basketball in Mound City.  A couple of years we left for Farm Bureau after wrestling tournaments. A free meal or two enticed the college students to join Mom and Dad for the weekend before finals. This year the floor will be littered with Legos, wet towels, hairbrushes, and unmatched shoes as we enjoy this get together as a family affair.

 Missouri Farm Bureau is getting ready to host its 102nd Annual Meeting.  This December 2016 will mark the thirty-fifth meeting for the Hurst family.  That's a lot of farm policy, pork chops, estate taxes, FFA speeches, runny eggs, Star Spangled banners, hospitality rooms, eminent domain, talent finds, and hand shaking.  It is storytelling unto the third and fourth generation.

We used to be the Young Farmers.  Now we're the Old Hands....

Our Small World

There is a stranger at the back door.  A casual glance would tag him as American Legion or VFW.  With a cheery frank smile, a crinkle in the corner of his eyes and a bushy white beard, he could be Santa Claus.  But his trucker's hat bears the insignia of the ARRL and so does his windbreaker jacket. He's not Santa, he's a ham.

Ham radio operators were part of the "net" before the net was cool, universal, and ubiquitous.   This ham isn't part of the weather net that operates through our part of the Midwest, but when one of the regulars didn't report into the weather net for a week or so, some of his radio friends looked up this local ham and asked him to check first hand on their long distance friend.  This gentleman went out of his way, made the trip, knocked on the door, and touched some hearts....an uncommon kindness.

Only in America.  In a small town Chinese restaurant, a Cuban immigrant and a local diner strike up a conversation in whatever words are common between Cuban and the self taught Spanish polished by Mexican soap operas on DishTV.  Later, the Cuban gentleman visits the Lutheran church of the local, requesting the "coo-ky, coo-ky" of the pastor.  No, no, he's not looking for snacks; he is searching for Communion.  A chance meeting over a Chinese lunch  leads to a Cuban worker receiving Communion in a Missouri Synod Lutheran Church.... an uncommon conversation.

There are no screaming sirens, no flashing lights. There is no ambulance for this emergency, but it is a trip to the hospital and the quiet is scary enough.  They sit, hand in hand, in the back seat, riding together as they have for decades.  On her lap is her hand bag...and a box of cookies.  Emergencies come and emergencies go, but the habits and small kindnesses of a long marriage are so deeply ingrained that they trump any uncertainty.  Whatever comes next, whatever must be faced, someone she loves will need a cookie, and she will be ready.....uncommon devotion.