To my Dad

‘And his father was a farmer before him, and his father a farmer before him…’ and on and on rattled the overused sentiments and stories Dad had been forcing down my throat for years. It broke his heart that I, his only son, was going to university to be an accountant, rather than take up the mantle of managing the family farm. Most parents would be so proud of their son for choosing to go to university, being accepted, and wanting to become an accountant, but for my dad it was a ridiculous notion. I never felt that I was good enough, and now who was going to take over the day-to-day duties, and the long-term life of our family home? Maybe I did let him down.

‘Farming is an imperative part of the world, son, people can’t live if we don’t grow the sustenance they need to survive…’ that was a particular favourite of his, reminding me that I was forgoing an important and integral part of the world, like I was letting the world down because I didn’t want to shovel horse shit all day long. Dad had tried to get me invested in his pride and joy for many years, but it just seemed like such hard work that I was really uninterested in being a part of. I never wanted to get up at 5am to milk the cows, feed all the animals, or tire away at debts that kept mounting. Maybe I did choose the easy way out.

‘You know it’s all worth it mate, when you come back up to the home at the end of the day and you know you’ve done a hard day’s yakka…’ yes Dad, because only farmers work hard, and because I’m doing a desk job, ill never work a hard day in my life. Constantly telling me that hard work and elbow grease make the world go round, and where would we be without milk from the cows, eggs from the chooks, or meat from the herd and cattle? Yes, I get it Dad, but where would we also be without doctors, lawyers and accountants? Yeah ok, maybe accountants aren’t as vital in the world as doctors, I get the way that sounds. Maybe he was right.

‘I collect these little guys because they remind me, every morning when I get up and have me first coffee of the day, that it might seem like a small insignificant job to many people, but for others it’s a lasting impact…’ what he always said of the little clay figurines that sit along the mantle above the fireplace. The little clay statues, were always small and insignificant to me, but now that dad’s no longer here, I understand what he was saying. They’re tiny, and to some people they are completely insignificant, but to me, they are a reminder that my dad was here and he was doing an important job. The three little pigs, the four little chickens, all in an ochre-coloured clay, standing next to the clay sheep dog, the clay bull, and the clay rooster. There were two clay sheep, and four clay cows, and all of their postures were different to each other. Not a single one was taller than four inches, and they took up the entirety of the mantle, the big-little bull right in the middle of the entire collection. He had always said that was his favourite, because he was the most important. The one to help the females produce more offspring, which in turn gave us all more milk and more meat. Barry the bull, he’d affectionately named this little figurine after our family bull. To me, he was always more bull headed than bull, but that was the whole point of the bull, wasn’t it? Sometimes I felt like Dad valued that bull more than all of us kids, it was his pride and joy.

And now, what am I going to do with these stupid little figurines? What am I going to do with this whole damn farm? None of my sisters want it, and they don’t know anything about farming anyways, Dad had never bothered to teach them, because he spent all of our childhood grooming me to take over. He was devastated when I told him I didn’t want to do so. I wish Mum were still here, she would be able to help me with making this decision. It’s our family home, and I don’t want to sell it, but do I have any other choice? I’m a damn accountant, I don’t know a single thing about farming. And the property is swimming in debt I don’t even know if well break even repaying everything after a full sale. Dad had left the entire estate to me, as the eldest, to make the right choice. I know he was lying there in his grave telling me the right choice is to ditch my career, and come home and be a farmer. But I know I can’t do this. But I know that I should? Or do I have the right to make my own choice? I have no idea. I don’t know what to do. My sisters don’t even care anyways, they just want the sale to end up profiting everyone of us equally. Thanks a lot girls, leave all the hard choices to me, but just sit there and wait to reap the benefits.

I’ve always seen farming as important. I don’t think I ever saw it as the be all and end all the way my dad did, but looking at these little clay statues, remembering all the things he tried to teach me, and looking at how far in debt my dad was despite how hard he worked…. I can see how important it was to him. I can see the difference he felt he was making to the world. No, scratch that, I can see the difference that he was to the world. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet Dad, but I’ll find a way to make sure your hard work won’t go unnoticed. I miss you Dad.