My son is the grandson of a fourth-generation farmer. John Gonnerman, my father, was raised on a farm and got actively into farming in his early 20s. Had he not passed away a few years ago my kids would have been delighted to have taken rides on his tractor and gotten close with him to the cattle. I was raised on the family farm and spent a lot of my time in the woods and fields around our farm. But, I was never meant to be a farmer.
Dad worked hard hauling feed to animals, helping cows have their calves when things weren't going well with the birth, building and fixing fences and all the other heavy labor involved in running a farm. In stifling heat and freezing cold he worked to make ends meet. He believed in what he did, and made it very clear that he preferred no other lifestyle.
When I left for college I knew I wouldn't be a farmer. I had known since at least sixth grade that I wasn't cut out for it. When I accepted my vocation to Brazilian missions, I believed that if I had any children they would be raised in Brazil. I was fine with that.
I don't think I'm completely fine with my children growing up in New Jersey, though I don't see that there's much I can do about it. Necessity demands that we be here, and circumstances allow for nothing else.
My kids won't grow up on a farm or, it seems, in a Brazilian city. Occasional visits to the farm where I was raised or the city where my wife grew up are not easy at this distance, and I certainly won't pay for "rural tourism." The best we can do, of course, is make their childhood as stable and happy as possible.
Does anyone else share my frustration at not being able to share something of your childhood with your kids, or else wish they could grow up in a different setting than they currently experience?
Oh, Adam, I feel as though I could write volumes about it. I grew up in Vermont. So far out in the woods that I couldn't see my neighbors. The closest one was a quarter mile away and we had grass growing down the middle of the road. We went sledding on our road in the winter and walked or biked everywhere in the summer.
ReplyDeleteMy children are being raised in a suburb of Washington DC. It's horrible. I hate it. There is literally NOTHING to do outside. No animals, little land, no streams, no woods, no ... nothing. Nothing to spark the imagination or ... anyway. I really, really resonate with your frustration.