Watching The Corn Grow

Two years ago I moved back to the Midwest after leaving as a child of ten. Friends couldn’t believe I moved to Iowa. "What are you going to do, sit around and watch the corn grow,?" they’d ask, [as if watching was all it took to make it flourish.]Yet, I have all my west coast acquaintances to thank for planting a kernel of awareness somewhere deep inside my mind.

That’s because for the last two summers, I’ve done just that. I’ve sat and watched the corn grow and in turn I seen something beautiful happen across the farmbelt. It wasn’t a deliberate decision, watching the corn grow. Yet, somehow, it has captured my attention and imagination as the thick stalks of green have grown taller, then turned to burnished gold as the corn dried in the fields. And as I’ve spent time watching the corn, it has occurred to me that perhaps by living in the city I had lost touch with something vital- how this abundance of food arrived at my table. And with this realization another. Perhaps the ease with which we get food from field to supermarket has somehow changed the fabric of society and not for the better.

Relying on supermarkets means that children don’t have the opportunity to work their hands in rich fertile soil. Worse, consumers forget the people behind all that food, the people who have risked everything to grow it for them in the first place. [All they remember is the slick multimillion dollar ad campaigns designed by the suits in some far-off seventh avenue office and a highly paid personality touting the product.]

Dependence on grocery stores allows us to forget about the farmer who rises before dawn, we forget that rain isn’t just a nuisance but a necessity and we ignore the countless hours spent on planting rows so straight they look like soldiers on parade.. You lose sight of the farmer’s untold months of uncertainty, his faith in the land, and yes, her hours spent watching the corn. Yet, for all the sacrifices and uncertainty the farmer faces he can’t even get a decent or fair price for his crops.

There was a time when the ability to feed your family as well as those around you was honored. Farming was once a highly valued and revered occupation. I guess nowadays, feeding the world isn’t quite so important or valued as it used to be. It doesn’t appear to be as significant as an overpaid athlete making $50,000 per basket or the latest scandals in Washington. No wonder our citizenry is cynical, desperately searching for a hero.

Well, we have enough role models but the country has just forgotten where to look for them but I can give you a clue. Don’t bother looking for heroes in the bleachers of a $500 a ticket NBA game because our real men and women of courage can’t afford such luxuries. No, the people who should be viewed as heroes will be down on the farm doing the ordinary things that heroes and role models do... doing an honest and hard day’s work while keeping the faith despite such tremendous odds.

Soon I’ll be sharing my stories about watching the corn grow with my west coast friends. I’ll also share with them the most ironic thing of all. I’ll let them know that thanks to pathetically low crop prices the farmer’s family won’t be buying those fancy national brands with the celebrity face on the box. No, sadly America’s farm families will be shopping economy brands this year. It’s all they can afford.