10-4 Magazine August 2023

The Veteran’s View: By Dennis Mitchell Here it is August already and the summer is rushing past faster than the tilt-a-wheel down at the county fair. I always associate this month with the activities found around the rural towns I grew up in. August was the time when young people were given the chance to act grown up. That meant shouldering responsibilities and accepting the care and security of farm animals away from the farm, often without the guidance of their parents. Back when I was a teen (circa 1970), this was the first right of passage when young men stretched their horizons and young girls painted them a pretty picture. True to human nature, boys will be boys, so the saying goes. I remember the time leading up to fair week as months of hard work. My family raised livestock on our farm – we had cattle, horses, pigs, and too many other small animals to mention. And, along with the animals, we grew prize winning vegetables and field crops. The fair was about more than just bragging rights – we showed our animals and displayed the rest in both 4-H and open classes. I learned at an early age I could do anything I set my mind to. There are not many places a child can compete with adults and have a fighting chance, but once a year that happened at the county fair, when locals, young and old, competed for prizes and money. This was a serious business at our house since much of the family budget was derived from the earnings collected after entry fees were paid and expenses were removed. It took days to pack, transport, and deliver everything from a pen of three prize pigs, to rabbits and ducks, a few horses, and that didn’t do justice to the farm produce and crops we displayed. The fair may have only been six days, but the preparation and labor required to prepare covered the entire year. This is a shout-out to all the 4-H alumni reading this article. I remember hearing the refrain... building the leaders of tomorrow. We had no idea back then, that many of the choices we would make later in life would come directly from the experiences we had as kids at the fair. I was somewhat of a troubled kid, not that I looked for trouble, it just sprang up around me. When I turned thirteen, it was my year to stay in the dorms at the fairgrounds. My parents weren’t convinced I was ready. “What could go wrong,” my supporters said, “Lots of kids go every year and nothing happens to them.” After much consternation and some pleading, they relented, and I was sent. How was I to know the place would catch fire the second night. I had nothing to do with a prank gone wrong, but my folks could never be sure, so that was the last time I stayed overnight at the fair. I guess as life played itself out, where I stayed at night didn’t make that much of a difference. In fact, it may have given me more chances to prove my independence and thus helped me to pursue the career I chose. You may be wondering how I turned that misfortune into my life’s work. I’m reminiscing about an event that took place over 50 years ago, yet I’m still seeing the people who believed in me then, and those were the ones who gave me hope. The chance to do right and make good on my actions. The first year I was too young to drive back and forth to the fair myself, so I had to get rides there and back. This often meant bumming rides with the older kids and keeping them out of trouble (a little brother in the car has a sobering effect on late night rides with your girlfriend). I’m not sure, but my brother and I may have stolen dad’s Case 830 tractor and driven it the 12 miles from home. Sometimes a person just has to do whatever it takes to do the job. That required me to be the last one out at night and the first one up there in the morning. So, dependability and time sensitivity became a hallmark – it’s a lost art in our kids today, but back then I found I could get paid cash money if I did barn chores for some of the more well to do kids. By the time they got around to showing up I had already fed the animals, cleaned their stalls, and was gone. I have never been one to shy away from work. I’m sure they were more concerned with their leisure time and sleeping in than they were with how much they paid me. I can’t remember what the rates were, but it was never about how much money I had. But if I had some, I had options. Two or three dollars to a thirteen year old kid in 1970 was a fortune! 70 10-4 Magazine / August 2023 LEAVE SOME SPACE! Dennis