• Country Life

My neighbor was a farmer. So was everybody else’s in the land of cotton, soybean, and hay fields. Everybody had a neighbor with cows, chickens, or pigs. A few farmers may have had all three, but most stuck with one or the other.

I grew up surrounded by cotton fields, century old oaks, and telephone pole shaped pine trees that would snap in two during a tornado threat which was far more often than anyone would’ve liked.

There was a beef farm two properties to the Southwest of ours. Yes, it was grass fed, but no one had to specify that back in the 1900’s. Simply called, a beef farm. I could see the rolling green grassy hills from a tree stand. The vibrant emerald hillside stood out especially in the fall as the leaves thinned. Picturesque rolling green hills rising above the leveled farmland and browning trees. Atop the tallest of the hills was a modest farmhouse painted white with a white tin roof. It was probably built within a decade of the Second World War ending. A simple life. A hard life, but a simple one.

I’d see him occasionally driving a tractor load of hay across the hill towards his herd of cattle. Of course, this would have been in the Winter months. He was always working. Always tinkering, then again, so was everybody. It was pure country life. Beautiful farms, lush hardwoods, whitetail deer, and sunsets. Also, nitty-gritty hard work everyday.

• Slinging Hay

I was 13 when I got a job helping the hay farmer down the road. Those were some hot late-summer days, but I look back and would do it all over again.

There was something about hard work in the heat with buddies that was rewarding. Coming home with with scratches and poke marks all over me was a badge of honor. It was a sign that I was tough. I’d feel the sting in the shower and learned to like it. A typical one of these days would look like this:

I’d get dropped off at dawn by my dad on his way to work that was nearly an hour away from our house. Wearing a long sleeve tee, hat, and Levis with my gloves in my hand, I’d meet the farmer in his garage where some sort of hot biscuit would be waiting along with a canned soda or bottled water. After some brief small talk over breakfast, the farmer, his two sons, and about 3-4 others that looked like me piled into the different vehicles and rode out to the hayfields.

As soon as the cool from the A/C was abandoned, I would begin to sweat. The sun would still be below the tree line, but the air would already have felt like a steam room. Humidity hasn’t changed. It’s “more damaging than bombing” according to Rose Valland.

Once out in the field, it would have been straight to work. My job was to follow the Hay Baler, pick up the freshly-formed square bales, and stack them on a trailer that would have been rolling slowly behind a truck next to us. We would work in a rotation. Grab a bale, hoist it onto the trailer, get back in line, repeat. There would have been 3-4 of us rotating for hours.

Sometime around midday those same air-conditioned vehicles would appear and we’d ride back to the farmer’s house for lunch. All I remember was sweet tea. Gallons of it. That’s what I remember. We ate fried chicken or sandwiches, but the sweet tea on a hot day is most memorable. Well water, real sugar, and Lipton Tea tasted like heaven after being hot and sweaty all day. Just like that humidity hasn’t changed, neither has sweet tea.

After lunch, it was straight back to the fields to stack more hay. Towards the end of the day, we’d deliver the trailer load to someone’s barn. Unloading the trailer was the part of the job that tested my metal. It was at the end of a long, hot day and the task seemed to drag on forever. Not saying I wasn’t up for the challenge, but it was by far the hardest part of the day.

After emptying the trailer, we’d head back to the farmer’s house and a yellowish-white set of truck headlights would pick me up. I’d smell of sweat and hay. My dad would smell like a Butcher Shop. Both of us had hard days. I’d take a few more of those days.

• Do it Again

The neighbor near me with the cows worked days like that for more than fifty years. Every day I’d see him, he’d be working. Never in a hurry but always working. Slow and steady wins in the end. “My daddy was a farmer, so was everybody back then.”-Murph

Work like that made me tough. It also is one of the many reasons my back aches everyday. The memories and lesson’s learned are worth every twinge, and I would do it one thousand times over again. The same conditions, the same people, the same sweet tea. Hell yeah, I’d do it all over again. Kix 106 blaring from the truck cab pulling the trailer next to us with everyone singing “She Thinks my Tractor’s Sexy” at the top of our lungs. We sang about “Rodeos,” “Checking Yes or No,” and “Country Boys and Girls getting Down on the Farm” all while slinging bales of hay on a 100 degree day. Hell yeah, I’d do it again.

Hard work but no stress. A thousand times in a row–I’d do it again.

My last time working there was the Summer before my first High School Football season. The long sleeves on the tee were chopped at the shoulders, the hat and Levis stayed the same. The cooler sized, dense cubes of hay became lighter and lighter. This particular Summer I was working with a purpose–to get strong for football.

I loved the sport and wanted to play but knew very little about how to prepare for a season. One thing was for sure–I had to get stronger. I loved to watch football and play it with friends but never played it in any organized way. However, I was convinced that I was destined to be a Cornerback or Safety. It’s laughable to think that now, but it was the position I loved the most on the football field. Ed Reed and Deion were my inspiration. I never made it as a DB or a football player in general, but the hay field did it’s best to prepare me. I was stronger if nothing else.

• Friday Night Lights

Now I’m not sure if anyone that is playing in tonight’s Friday Night Light games worked on a hay farm to prepare in the off-season, but I hope that if they did–they treasure those memories and life lessons forever. Here I am a more than a quarter century later wishing I could go back to those same hay fields and sling hay with pleasure one more time. My version of paradise on earth…As long as there is still football and sweet tea afterwards.

Tonight’s Friday Night Lights Feature:

• Brighton @ Corner Canyon
• Davis @ Olympus
• Farmington @ Corner Canyon
• Syracuse @ Alta

The scores and summary will be in Sunday’s “General Update.”

It’ll feel like 102 in my old stomping grounds. Somebody is wearing a cutoff tee, hat, and Levis slinging hay while singing country music. Some things will never change. “A Country Boy can Survive.”

Find the Humor and Keep on Movin’

Whit W.