Happy Father's Day
A bit long today and no original photos...
Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there. We all see the memes to cherish the times but those words are easier to copy/paste than to live by.
Dad died in August 2019 after 89 years. In hindsight, it is amazing how it all worked out. He would not have dealt with the COVID mess very well nor the increased political turmoil since. In his last years, he spent too much time watching Fox News but stayed in touch with the gossip of The Clairmont (assisted living location). He passed in less than a day after falling ill - as good an ending as I could hope knowing his dislike for hospitals and long decline deaths. Mom and I both look at his death with peace.
Growing up on a sharecrop dryland wheat farm/ranch was a different experience than most of my peers. Dad had to balance so many things including how to get work done. Children get pulled into the workstream at a young age on a farm and I was no different. Being the only boy, I had a larger share of field work than my sisters. Don't get me wrong, they had plenty on their plates - and Dad would NEVER let you forget that detail or you might go to bed without dinner or not have a lunch the next day or miss clean clothes. Messages were almost always clear in our house. We all rode the tractor in Dad's lap from early but my solo time (left in the field by myself) as a tractor driver started around 13 or 14 years old. We did not have modern equipment and our workhorse tractors were two John Deere Model R beasts. These were very basic tractors - no power steering, no cab, no cushioned seat, hand clutch. It had a two cylinder, 6.8 L diesel engine rated at a whopping 35 HP.
I found a great link showing a Model R being run in a farm equipment parade. This is EXACTLY the sound I remember.
The only big difference is that this tractor is idling - something we did not do a lot. You see the farmer using the hand clutch in the video. Under full throttle, it was considerably louder and having two in tandem made it even more so. Dad had lost much of his hearing by the time he died but he always insisted on me wearing ear muffs when on the tractor. Though my wife may disagree, my hearing is still decent despite those years followed by decades in heavy industry.
The standard payload in those days was a one-way disk plow.
These plows really tear up the land and waste moisture to the point that they are not used very much today. If a disk is needed, you will likely see tandem disks with two sets of disks such that the front disk throws dirt one way and the back disk throws the dirt the other way - no net dirt movement. The old one-way plows shown above threw the dirt in the same direction and over decades, you could see the change in the flat plains of the field. This plow left a very deep furrow on its trailing wheel. This furrow is where you ran the front right tire of the tractor as you made each pass.
With the two tractors in tandem, we could pull two of these plows at the same speed as one tractor and one plow. That extra width meant a lot as some of our fields were a section in size or included one of the edges for the full one mile. For those new to these terms, a section of land is a 1 mile by 1 mile square (640 acres) dating back to the homestead claims. In the panhandle with nothing to interrupt the land division, you will see the majority of country roads following these section-sized layouts. At about 3 miles per hour, we could be days in a single field.
I was very late in my teenage growth and never had the physique of so many farmers. At 14, I might have been bucking 80 pounds. I know I did not exceed 100 pounds until late in 9th grade. Remember that deep furrow where you run the tractor tire? Remember the tractor had no power steering? When making a corner, you had to drive past the previous line (two tractors in tandem meant a long distance between the front tractor and the plow), then make a sharp left turn, and finally bring the tractor/plow back in line for the next straight run. This meant crossing that furrow twice in each turn - first going past the line and then again to bring the tractor back into the furrow. Both of those crossings were dangerous on this tractor. The lack of power steering meant the front wheels went where the dirt told them to go. If you wanted anything different, you had to overcome those considerable forces on the steering wheel. The first crossing wasn't too bad. The second event bringing the front wheel back into the furrow was where you could break an arm or get thrown off the tractor. The steering wheel has a large diameter to help compensate for no power. When those front tires decided to turn in that furrow, that wheel was going to turn with it - and FAST. If you were not prepared or had your hand placed wrong, you would end up with a massive bruise as the best outcome and a full-blown disaster as the other outcome.
At 14, I could not reach of the controls sitting on the seat and had to stand to operate the tractor anytime other than straight line running. This included making and surviving these turns. It was not uncommon to read newspaper articles describing severe farming accidents - often involving youth. I know Dad understood the danger. We never discussed at length the hazards but I was always made keenly aware of them as I learned how to work. It was all just part of farming life.
Why this story today?
I look back at my childhood and wonder what it took to be my father. Could I place an undersized kid in a similar situation today? Dad made decisions I'm not sure I'm capable of making. I never caught the farming lifestyle bug and have been very fortunate to enjoy a much less physically demanding life. I never wished to expose my family to some of the hardships that were just normal life in my youth. One of the ironies of life is that many of us with similar experiences work hard to protect our kids from the very events that defined us and are the basis of our fabric as an adult. How much protection is too much protection? An impossible dad question.
Once more, Happy Father's Day.
Excellent tribute
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