Cyndi's Two Cents

Family farmer

Commentary:

My dad’s dad, Grandpa Ralph Young, turned 99 years old on St. Patrick’s Day.

Grandpa’s ancestors settled in Scott County, Illinois in the early 1800’s. Their first love, according not only to Grandpa, but to historic passages I’ve read, was hunting and fishing. Originally having settled in the flatter, blacker soil of an area that was once Scott and is now Morgan County, they felt the pull of the river and the better hunting grounds, so they packed up and moved their families to an area west of Glasgow, along Sandy Creek that flows into the Illinois River.

My great-great-great-great grandfather Jonathon who had first settled in Kentucky before moving west, became a farmer and a cattleman. Perhaps those skills were inherited from his forefathers – I have not done the research, so I can only imagine.

Grandpa Ralph and an older brother who left the farm as a young man and went on to have a very successful military career, were fifth generation on the family farm. Grandpa and Grandma Evelyn raised 3 boys on that farm. I grew up just a mile down the road from their home in the home made by Grandpa’s oldest son Eddie Mac, my Dad, and his wife, my mom Judy. Mom and Dad raised 4 children.

When Grandpa was 5 years old, the total population in this country was less than 106 million, farmers made up 27% of the labor force, and the average farm size was 148 acres. Today, farmers make up less than 2% of the population, average farm size is 441 acres and we are a country of 317 million people.

When Grandpa was 15 years old and very much involved in the family farm, one farmer supplied food to 9.8 people in the United States and abroad. Today, one farmer supplies food to 144 people. Back then, farmers relied on real horse power. Today’s four-wheel drive tractors have the power of 40 – 300 of those horses.

It is hard to wrap my head around all of the changes that Grandpa has seen in his lifetime and experienced as a farmer.

Across the road from Grandpa’s house is the old family cemetery. When we were kids, my sister Debbie and I would walk among the tombstones and wonder about our ancestors, whose names are etched upon the stone markers. We’d imagine we were with Jonathon and Elizabeth, true pioneers, as they encountered wolves, bears and who knows what other threats to the safety of their family as they settled the land. They must have been hardy stock, because many of them lived to be a ripe old age for the times in which they were here. The weak and frail could not survive in the elements presented to those who settled this country.

Many of you have similar stories. As time passes and our own life’s stories are written, we should do our best to keep the stories of our ancestors alive. Never forget what those who came before sacrificed to make a good life for us.