My first job was of course, working on the family farm in Wisconsin. Life on the family farm has been glamorized by popular media and culture - usually by those who never lived on one. My parents always told me we were well off - years later I realized we were actually rather poor. The days were long, and if you raised animals you were basically a prisoner to them. Yet, there was the freedom of owning one's own business.
From about 12 to 18 years old I worked on the farm. I got to work with my dad and his brother. This is something few kids get to do these days. So, I got to know my father quite well. I know things about him my mom probably never knew. You learn things about a person and all their nuances when you work with them, things you would never learn over a cup of coffee relationship.
Human resources people claim I should not use my farm work history on my resume. You might as well tell me you are taking away my American citizenship. The human resources culture can be deconstructed on another posting. Anyway, I will not let people take my farm history away from me.
A smart employer would realize that this humble farm work background instilled in me a knowledge of the four seasons. It taught me that there is a window to exploit the crops. Miss it and you have to wait until next season. It taught me to respect animals and how vital they were to the business. The cows were the milk and the milk was the pay check. They were not pets these huge beasts. Even the cats patrolled for mice among the grain bins.
It taught me the importance of making a payroll. And if you don't pay your bills in a small town you are as good as finished. It taught me that there is more reward in work than money. And it taught me that your finished product is a portrait of you in a way. Crocked corn rows and uneven shingles on a new shed roof mean you are probably an inattentive-to-detail person. And, everyone else then knows that too.
Working on the farm taught me to fix machines with no tools, parts, or resources. To this day I can keep machines running that should have been retired to a junk heap years ago. It taught me not to move someone's stuff. Tools and equipment often stayed in place season to season. Move them arbitrarily out of place and the work process is delayed. It taught me to get along with the neighbors. Someday they may have to save your property from god knows what while you just happened to be away for the afternoon.
It taught me that in a job many things happen at once and over time to make the process complete. On any given day dozens of things happen in the process of getting through the day. The cows are feed, the cows are milked, the cows are feed again, the barn is cleaned, some hay may be bailed, and some crop my be planted. The cows are milked again. Some equipment may be prepped for the next day. Some machine may be fixed. Fuel has to be ordered, a door may need to be repaired, a tire may need to be fixed. The cows are feed again. If you are lucky you can sneak an hour or two once a week to go to the high school football game.
Working on the farm taught me to respect the power of nature. One day the sky is beautiful, the next your buildings have been leveled by wind, your crops ruined by drought, and your animals at threat by disease. The farm taught me that things must be done by a team - usually the family in those days - and that was before the word "team" was in every business manifesto in America.
Dad insisted I not follow in his footsteps. He saw that farming was evolving into mega farms. The small guy's operation would be crushed, his body crushed to. He was prophetic. I moved on and he was glad I tried other things in life. That made him happy I know. He had said he always felt like a prisoner to the farm. But, he can take with him this. And that is for me at least, I take a piece of that farm work experience to work every day with every job I have ever had.
No human resources people, I am not going to apologize for spending my first job working on the farm for six years. It is part of who I am. If you try to take that from me you might as well ask me to pretend to be from another country.
This week's Wisconsin soldier to remember is Mathew Schram, a major in the Army's 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment. He was killed on May 26, 2003 about 100 miles northwest of Baghdad in Haditha, Iraq. His resupply mission convoy came under attack from gunmen who opened fire with rocket-propelled grenades and machine guns. The Brookfield native was 36. He was in ROTC while at the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater before joining the Army in 1989 and participating in the first Gulf War 12 years prior.
3,316 Americans have been killed in Iraq since Spring 2003.
71 Wisconsin Soldiers have been killed in Iraq since Spring 2003.
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