I think I'm going to start walking home from COMMON,

One year ago while at the airport waiting my flight home from COMMON's 2008 annual conference my phone rang. In that short call I learned of the passing the night before of "Mr 400" himself, Al Barsa. Today on the way home from COMMON annual conference. I was sitting on the plane awaiting the request to turn off my phone when it rang. It was my father who told me that my Mother's oldest brother William J Aukeman, had died. Today is May 1, the same day we lost Mom a few years back.

Last night at the unofficial closing party after the official closing party we remembered Al in our small way. Pictures of him hung on the couch for a while and then on the wall. Glasses were raised and eyes became wet. Many words were not needed for all knew Al. He will be remembered.

As I sit on the plane typing though, memories of Al are replaced by memories of 'Uncle Will' as our family called him. He was a lifelong dairy farmer and my first true employer. The day after we moved from 'Town' (Grand Rapids) out to the suburbs he called asking if I was interested in helping to 'fill silo'. I was, and worked for him off and mostly on for seven years. During that time lessons were learned, life lessons. Allow me to share a few.

1) Mistakes are not just tolerated, they are expected - and turned into lessons.

It's been said that the wise man learns from his mistakes and the truly brilliant from someone else's! I did my share of this sort of 'learning' in those years. I did get chewed out for some of my bigger blunders but even then a lesson was transferred. Usually the lesson came in question form: "How did you expect that to work when….. " followed by an explanation of how it should have been done. When you're staring at the failure the lesson is pretty clear.

2) Anything worth doing is worth doing right.

We built so many things during my years working for Uncle Will. We poured concrete, built wagons, fences, walls, even a barn. Each was done to last with good materials and proper techniques. Thirty years later they still stand.

While planting crops and working fields straight lines were encouraged. "Pick a point out front and drive toward that" I was told "and the radiator cap isn't far enough out front." Vern Ensing who shelled corn for Uncle Will for many years claimed "Those rows are so straight I should bungy strap the steering wheel and play banjo from one end to the other!"

3) Buying anything brand new is a luxury and to be done with great consideration.

I started working for Uncle Will in 1975. At that time his newest John Deere (recently acquired at that) was a 1960 model, it did the job quite admirably. It was a rare day when I saw a brand new purchase arrive on that farm. Most were used items that were properly serviced and provided a long a useful life.

4) Preventative maintenance is dramatically cheaper than repairs.

One day early in my employment I was being schooled in the proper way to start one of the old JDs. I was surprised to learn you didn't begin in the driver's seat, rather with the engine's dip stick! And there was also one for the transmission, and check the radiator, check the tires and the fan belt, and look for liquids leaking out.

Then he pointed at a stack of boxes in the corner. "That's grease" he said matter of fact-ly. "We use a lot of that here because I can buy cases of it for the price of a single repair." Then he pointed out the grease gun that was in the tool box of each tractor and showed me where to apply the stuff. I applied a LOT of grease in 7 years and never experienced a bearing failure.

5) Paint and whitewash hold farms together.

Just when you thought the hay was in the barn and it was safe to ask for a day off, cases of paint would appear with a bucket full of brushes. Bright white fences and barns with green trim kept the place looking neat, attractive and inviting at all times. You didn't want to be able to see the wood on the farm, only the paint.

6) Hard work is rewarded with more hard work.

This is not a bad thing! Prove your skills stacking hay and you got to take a shot at the pitchfork and soon the big scoop shovel! Get good with those and you moved up to bobcat duty, very possibly the single most useful farm tool of all time! Hours in that seat earned you time on the John Deer's pulling everything from empty hay wagons to the plow.

No matter what the task uncle Will always started it with a lesson with tips and hints for doing it well and clear expectations set for completion.

7) Farm wives are the best cooks. Forget 'garnish', bring on the meat and potatoes!!

No need to ask what was for dinner (which by the way is at NOON on the farm) just follow your nose. You won't be disappointed and you won't leave hungry!

8) The term Farmer actually means: 'builder, electrician, plumber, painter, truck driver, roofer, heavy equipment operator, hand tool operator, philosopher, husband and father.'

While one doesn't normally connect farming to computers naturally, some of the projects completed at http://www.frankeni.com wouldn't have been possible without the skills learned working on the farm. There sure were a lot of learning opportunities while working for Uncle Will.

9) Manure is spread downwind from the farmhouse.

While not always appreciated by the neighbors, Aunt Ann made that call!

10) Perhaps more than any other occupation the Farmer learns early and often that he is not in charge, The Lord is.

All the trips across the field with the tractors, seeds in the ground, fertilizer, cultivating etc will do no good without sun and rain at the right times. Only our Heavenly Father controls the weather, the health of the animals and indeed our own very health. He is to be worshiped, praised, and thanked every day. Will prayed at every meal and attended church at every opportunity. He also contributed there serving in many capacities over the many years he attended there.

While we on earth mourn the loss of this wise man, husband, father, uncle, neighbor and friend we know he walks straight and tall once more on streets paved with gold.


- DrF