Monthly Archives: April 2012

FFA pride shines through the next generation

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I still remember my first trip to the Minnesota FFA Convention in St. Paul. I had packed my black pants, my freshly ironed white shirts and that blue corduroy jacket – the one with my name stitched  in gold thread and cursive lettering. Oh, how proud I was to wear the blue and gold.

It hangs in my closet now, still bearing the pins I earned as a Greenhand and a Minnesota FFA Degree recipient.

It’s been more than two decades since I’ve attended a state FFA convention, and 20 years ago this year that I attended my last National FFA Convention, but oh, the memories I have of sitting through inspiring programs, feeling the call to do better – to be better – and to reach for the stars.

I admired the kids my age who had so much going for them, the shining stars who became our state officers and our national award winners. I dreamed of one day earning my American Farmer Degree, but raising dairy goats as my Supervised Agricultural Experience was far from lucrative enough to reach the level it takes to be the cream of the crop.

These days, I get to relive my dreams of success in the FFA through the next generation of students who strive toward their goals by “Learning to Do, Doing to Learn, Earning to Live and Living to Serve.”

The FFA motto is something I still apply in my life today, and I can’t imagine a life led any different. I’m pretty sure a lot of present and past FFA members feel the same way.

Anyway, I spent much of this afternoon writing about two Sibley, Iowa, teens who, earlier this week, were chosen to represent their peers as members of the Iowa FFA Association’s officer team for the coming year. Steven Brockshus was named Iowa FFA President, and Josh Earll was chosen a state FFA vice president and northwest region president.

To hear the excitement in their voice, their unwavering belief in the future of agriculture and their dedication to serve their peers makes me believe the future of agriculture will continue to shine bright.

I spent quite a bit of time talking to both Steven and Josh, and as typically happens, I had much more information than I could include in the newspaper article.

What I kept out of that story, is what I want to share with you now – it’s just another peek into the fine young men who will now proudly represent northwest Iowa.

Josh Earll has grown accustomed to speaking in front of an audience, and while he hasn’t had a lot of experience being interviewed by the media, he passed the test with flying colors.

Josh shared with me just a glimpse of what it means to be an FFA officer, and he did so by telling a story.

“It doesn’t take one person to take over the world, it takes multiple people to make the world stronger,” he told me. “With my speech to become a state officer, I talked about a boy who was helping his father out in the yard.”

As the story continued, Josh talked about the father growing annoyed by his son’s constant following. The father took the boy into the house, found a picture of the world in a magazine and cut it into small pieces.

“He told his son, if you put this together, you can come out and help me again,” shared Josh.

A short while later, the son returned to his Dad’s side in the yard and said he was finished. The dad was in disbelief, and said, “You don’t know how to put the world together, you’re not even in school yet.”

They went into the house, and sure enough, the world was pieced together. When the dad asked his son how he was able to piece it together, the son replied, “On the back side of the world there’s a picture of a boy. I knew how to put the boy together, and once I got that done, the world was a snap.”

Josh used the story to illustrate that when you take one FFA member and start putting more members together, it makes the world a lot easier – it makes the world a snap.

It was clear to me that Josh truly appreciates the FFA for what it is, and what it can do for young people.

The same can be said for Steven. He shared with me his time in high school, where agriculture classes and the FFA organization embraced diversity.

“Every student can have a role for you to step up and be your best,” he said. They don’t have to be athletic, they don’t need musical talent – “whatever their skill, there’s a place for them in the FFA.”

Steven grew up on a dairy farm and used his work there for his Supervised Agricultural Experience in dairy production and dairy placement. Those experiences, coupled with the textbook and classroom portion of the FFA and the leadership opportunities available make for a three-part model of success, he said.

“With the FFA, it’s something really real to me,” he shared. “I never thought as a freshman I’d be able to travel to Indianapolis, Washington, D.C. and even around the state of Iowa.”

As he embarks on his one-year term as State FFA President, Steven said he wants this year “to be the best that has ever been done” to spark next year’s officer team to be even better.
“With that mindset, we don’t want to be the best, we want the teams down the road to be better than we are,” he said.

Steven has a couple of goals he’d like to accomplish in the coming year, including making better use of technology to share the message of the FFA, and to improve communication between the state, district and chapter officers.

“Leadership has a trickle down effect,” he said. “If chapter officers experience that great leadership, it will have a ripple effect.”

Steven also has a message for those who haven’t yet discovered the FFA … and that message is to get involved.

“If you’re thinking about doing something, get out there and do it,” he said.

That’s exactly what Steven and Josh did, and look at where it has taken them.

Congratulations state officers, and best of luck in the year ahead!

New cell phone elicits feelings of techno-dumb

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I’ve come to realize now that I’m over the age of 40, own my own home and have it fully furnished, that shopping isn’t as much fun as it used to be.

These days, everything I admire has to pass the “Is it a want or a need?” test. Frankly, my walls have no more room for pictures or paintings, my floors have no more space for furniture and my kitchen cupboards have no more space for stoneware baking dishes or coffee mugs. I don’t even drink coffee, but that’s a blog topic for another day!

My purse, on the other hand, had room for a new cell phone. Well, that’s just a small excuse, really, for my new “so-technically-advanced-it-scares-me” gadget.

To think, two years ago I was the proud owner of a chunky Nokia cell phone that met my most basic need … to call and receive calls.

I traded that ancient device in for a touchscreen cell phone with a slide-out keyboard that was the envy of my niece, Jessie. (She helped me choose the new cell phone so she wouldn’t be embarrassed to see me talking on the old Nokia.)

With the notification that my cell phone contract was up, I ventured into the local cell phone shop on Saturday all by myself. I was determined not to let the fear of these new-fangled devices get the better of me.

I knew exactly what I wanted … a new phone to be able to view the Daily Globe website, update it as needed, post photos on the web and on Facebook and access all three of my email accounts with the simple touch of a button.

I know, I know, nothing is ever that simple!

For starters, I had no idea there were so many options to choose from. I have friends who will use nothing but an iPhone, and others who say the Droid is the best.

Needless to say, I was conflicted.

I know people who are so indecisive it drives me bonkers, and I was trying not to be that way with the salesperson. My greatest dilemma was deciding to keep the slide-out keyboard or go to a completely touchscreen model. I saved $50 by going to the touchscreen, and I haven’t used my new phone enough to say I regret the decision.

(I’m sure it will come, one day!)

Now, I suppose it would be normal for a person, after purchasing a new electronic gadget, to leave the store with a smile. I’m pretty sure, however, that the security cameras captured my expression of fear as I walked out of the cell phone store.

I was on my own, with a new cell phone, a few basic pointers and a how-to book.

Any guess as to how long it took for me to return to the cell phone store with a question? Less than 24 hours!

The cell phone place transferred all of my cell phone contacts when I’d purchased the phone, but I managed to mess things up when I set up my email and Facebook accounts. Suddenly, the 88 phone numbers in my contact list grew to 392 names. My phone had synched all my Facebook friends with all of my email contacts and all of my phone numbers. Yikes!

I spent at least two hours trying to undo the mess, and when I took the phone back to the shop, it took the guy less than 10 seconds to clear up the problem. Yeah, I felt stupid!

The phone now sits on my desk at work as if to say, “Come on, let’s see how you can mess me up again!”

I have a feeling this is going to be an ongoing duel to see how long my patience lasts. So far, it’s cell phone: 2; me: 0.

Oh, and if I hang up on you, it’s certainly not on purpose. I’m still trying to figure out how to answer my phone.

Driving lessons

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Most people, I’m sure, remember their first experience behind the wheel — the trepidation of being in control of something much larger than you, mixed with the exhilaration of knowing freedom would one day be yours.

Nothing beats the satisfaction of earning a driver’s license, filling up the tank with ethanol-blended gasoline and hitting the open road.

I long to travel; and the farm where I grew up is to thank —or blame — for my love of the open road.

I remember my first time behind the wheel. It was on Dad’s old M Farmall tractor. I was sitting on his lap when he told me to grab hold of the rubberized steering wheel and get us from Point A — the northwest corner of the grove — to Point B, the farm yard.

 The route was right in front of my eyes, but try as I might the vehicle had a mind of its own. I would have steered us right into a tree if Dad hadn’t grabbed the wheel and steered us back on path.

The farm field, which I fondly refer to as “The Back 40”, was a driver’s training ground for me and all three of my brothers, and seven of my 10 nieces and nephews thus far. One day, I imagine the great-niece and great-nephew will also be tearing around back there. That will be several years in the future, considering they don’t yet have legs long enough to master the pedal tractor.

Recently, the neighbor kids brought their parents to our farm to show them the “prairie playground” that is so full of fun. Pedro and Beatrice were given four-wheeler rides through the back pasture by their son; and when I told Pedro about the many driving lessons that have taken place on the Back 40, he grinned and handed his son the car keys.

Both Andy and his younger sister made Figure 8’s in the alfalfa patch —both under close supervision of Pedro, of course.

They did much better behind the wheel than I ever did at that age — at least they didn’t steer toward the grove, and managed to stay out of the ditch.

I still cringe when I recall the time I tried to teach a niece how to drive and thought I wouldn’t make it back on the farm yard alive. One lesson I learned from that experience was that I am not cut out to be a driver’s education instructor. The second lesson I learned is that no matter how hard I pressed my feet to the floorboard, that imaginary passenger side braking system did absolutely no good!

When the wind blows

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When the wind blows, the dust gets in my eyes. When the wind blows, I don’t want to go outside.

But then the sun shines and I grab my rod and reel. For when the sun shines, I think “Oh, what a deal!”

When the wind blows while the sun shines, that’s when it gets so tricky … when the casts fly, the bobbers bob and the lines  get oh, so icky.

 

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon when I heard a knock at my back door.

There stood a couple of the neighbor kids, wanting to do something fun. I don’t know why, but they come to my house for inspiration.

That’s the best part about living in town … the best part about living in a neighborhood with lots of kids. They needn’t beg to get me to put down my book or my needlework for a little outdoor fun.

I knew it was a bit windy, but when I mentioned to the girls that I had a couple of containers of worms in the fridge to use up, they were all excited about going fishing.

They ran next door to get a friend, and we were soon packing up four fishing poles, two tackle boxes, a cooler and a net.

We drove to a spot on Lake Okabena, and that was when the laughter began.

Little did I know I was going to have a trio of girls who screamed and shuddered trying to do the simplest of tasks — to put a squirmy worm on an itty bitty fish hook.

Needless to say, my line was the first in the water.

That was fine and dandy. The tricky part came when the three girls cast their lines into the wavy waters of Lake Okabena from the same dock.

Before long, it was “Her bobber is too close to my bobber!” and “You hooked my line!”

Then there were my silent comments … “Dear Lord, grant me patience!”

Never was I so happy to hear the words, “I don’t want to fish anymore!”

The trouble was, while the girls tired quickly of battling the wind and the waves with their rods and reels, they weren’t quite ready to call it a day.

Someone, I think it was Maria, asked if we could go back to my house and bake up some brownies.

It doesn’t need saying, but I’ll say it anyway … the best part about baking brownies is eating brownies, and the girls could hardly wait the 27 minutes for the ooey gooey chocolate goodness to be pulled from the oven.

As if on cue, the one girl’s older brother showed up just minutes before the timer sounded; and within minutes after that, more than half a pan of hot and tasty brownies had been devoured.

Had I not put a stop to it, the whole pan would have been gone and I would have sent four kids home on a massive sugar high.

Come to think of it, that’s another good thing about living in my neighborhood. The kids can come over to play board games, yard games, go four-wheeling or fishing, and at the end of the day I can send them back home.

Those moments are a reminder to take a little extra pleasure in my quiet house and the time I have to read a good book or complete a few more stitches on my latest needlework project.