You know, the best thing about being published is that I have the opportunity to make a one-week trip to New York City last nearly a month. Every week I get to sit down and relive a portion of the trip, in a manner that is more enjoyable than a slide show. Trust me, it's better for both of us.
Plasticized celebrities, touristy sightseeing, extravagant cuisine, and artful Broadway put aside, I returned home feeling markedly settled. Ironically, all of the good things about New York made coming home to Monroe, and especially my farm, euphoric. I have never viewed farming as restrictive; in fact, the cows allow me a relaxed sense of freedom I have never found elsewhere. Coming home from a vacation has always felt good, but this one particularly so.
I think it started at Pancho and Lefty's, on Monroe's historic square. Ashley and I were out on a date, and Pancho's is always a treat. In every way, it felt like coming home. Staff and patrons alike welcomed us, as though we were catching up with old friends. In fact, we were. When it came time to pay, the waitress politely informed that "the gentleman over there" had picked up our tab. For obvious reasons I cannot mention his name; it was extremely gracious and unexpected, and a sure sign that we were home again. This would have never happened in New York City.
Immediately upon my return, I picked up where I had left off on the farm. The cows needed to be milked, spring preparations made, and catch-up work from the previous week completed. The first morning home made the $12 cocktails, shimmering city lights, and raw oysters a distant memory. As I rolled up my sleeves and got dirty, I felt totally and unconditionally free. There was no one looking over my shoulder, no one criticizing my work, and nobody telling me what to do. Contrast this observation with the following:
One evening in New York saw me at a pub with a group of gentlemen I am proud to call my friends. We have met up and socialized in the past, but this time was different. Comfortably into the evening, we talked about business. I could see the stress in their eyes. One of them explained that his company was under review. Everyone at the firm was undergoing performance reports. Each employee was to review one or more of their peers, meaning several people were critiquing him. One screw up, no matter how minor, could result in termination.
Another friend works as an asset manager to an incredibly wealthy family. I joked that his job sounds cushy. He replied that he is treated like dirt; after all, if they suddenly decide they don't like him, they'll simply find someone else. Period.
Along the lines of this conversation, upon returning home I wearily realized that Wisconsin is still the state of turmoil. My friends in New York all work in finance and investment. Back home, I am married to, and friends with, people who work in education and public service. Let me be clear - I am not defending any side, nor am I coming out in favor of any particular view. All I am saying is this:
We have all seen drastic changes made to the lending and financial industry, perhaps necessary, perhaps not. Likewise, in Wisconsin and elsewhere, a fury of activity is impacting education and public service. In both cases, people who have absolutely, positively, zero practical experience or knowledge of each respective industry are sounding off. It is both humorous and depressing to pick up a local paper and read a blurb which rips teachers to shreds, written by someone who has admittedly never stood before a classroom, never dealt with children, or (even worse) had to deal with parents. The same can be said about lending and finance. I wonder: do some of those who incite hate against banks have a clue about what it takes to finance a mortgage?
Considering all that is going on, you can appreciate my feeling of peace and tranquility upon returning to the farm, where there is literally no one telling me how to do my job. As more time transpires, the more I am convinced that production agriculture is the last bastion of freedom and self-expression in the professional world. Despite the obvious unpleasantries associated with cows, and the substances they emit, my friends in New York actually expressed a hint of jealousy toward my ability to influence my own future.
The only outside influence affecting modern-day production agriculture came from a dude from New Jersey. He thought organic farming would be a good idea, and thus was born the modern-day organic revolution, brought to you by someone from New Jersey, who had never set foot on a farm. At least, that's what I heard.
If this is true, it still makes me happy to be home on the farm. Unlike some of my professional colleagues, when it comes to the example of organic farming, at least I have a choice.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
Plasticized celebrities, touristy sightseeing, extravagant cuisine, and artful Broadway put aside, I returned home feeling markedly settled. Ironically, all of the good things about New York made coming home to Monroe, and especially my farm, euphoric. I have never viewed farming as restrictive; in fact, the cows allow me a relaxed sense of freedom I have never found elsewhere. Coming home from a vacation has always felt good, but this one particularly so.
I think it started at Pancho and Lefty's, on Monroe's historic square. Ashley and I were out on a date, and Pancho's is always a treat. In every way, it felt like coming home. Staff and patrons alike welcomed us, as though we were catching up with old friends. In fact, we were. When it came time to pay, the waitress politely informed that "the gentleman over there" had picked up our tab. For obvious reasons I cannot mention his name; it was extremely gracious and unexpected, and a sure sign that we were home again. This would have never happened in New York City.
Immediately upon my return, I picked up where I had left off on the farm. The cows needed to be milked, spring preparations made, and catch-up work from the previous week completed. The first morning home made the $12 cocktails, shimmering city lights, and raw oysters a distant memory. As I rolled up my sleeves and got dirty, I felt totally and unconditionally free. There was no one looking over my shoulder, no one criticizing my work, and nobody telling me what to do. Contrast this observation with the following:
One evening in New York saw me at a pub with a group of gentlemen I am proud to call my friends. We have met up and socialized in the past, but this time was different. Comfortably into the evening, we talked about business. I could see the stress in their eyes. One of them explained that his company was under review. Everyone at the firm was undergoing performance reports. Each employee was to review one or more of their peers, meaning several people were critiquing him. One screw up, no matter how minor, could result in termination.
Another friend works as an asset manager to an incredibly wealthy family. I joked that his job sounds cushy. He replied that he is treated like dirt; after all, if they suddenly decide they don't like him, they'll simply find someone else. Period.
Along the lines of this conversation, upon returning home I wearily realized that Wisconsin is still the state of turmoil. My friends in New York all work in finance and investment. Back home, I am married to, and friends with, people who work in education and public service. Let me be clear - I am not defending any side, nor am I coming out in favor of any particular view. All I am saying is this:
We have all seen drastic changes made to the lending and financial industry, perhaps necessary, perhaps not. Likewise, in Wisconsin and elsewhere, a fury of activity is impacting education and public service. In both cases, people who have absolutely, positively, zero practical experience or knowledge of each respective industry are sounding off. It is both humorous and depressing to pick up a local paper and read a blurb which rips teachers to shreds, written by someone who has admittedly never stood before a classroom, never dealt with children, or (even worse) had to deal with parents. The same can be said about lending and finance. I wonder: do some of those who incite hate against banks have a clue about what it takes to finance a mortgage?
Considering all that is going on, you can appreciate my feeling of peace and tranquility upon returning to the farm, where there is literally no one telling me how to do my job. As more time transpires, the more I am convinced that production agriculture is the last bastion of freedom and self-expression in the professional world. Despite the obvious unpleasantries associated with cows, and the substances they emit, my friends in New York actually expressed a hint of jealousy toward my ability to influence my own future.
The only outside influence affecting modern-day production agriculture came from a dude from New Jersey. He thought organic farming would be a good idea, and thus was born the modern-day organic revolution, brought to you by someone from New Jersey, who had never set foot on a farm. At least, that's what I heard.
If this is true, it still makes me happy to be home on the farm. Unlike some of my professional colleagues, when it comes to the example of organic farming, at least I have a choice.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
