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I’m not a terribly superstitious person, although I do try to avoid breaking mirrors and walking under ladders. For the most part, when the calendar falls on Friday the 13th, I’ve had very good days, so I have learned to find a positive in the number thirteen. That’s a good thing, since September 28 I’ll be married to Donnie for thirteen years. Just as nothing can prepare you for parenthood, there is little that adequately prepares you for marriage – especially to a farmer!
I’ve known Donnie for almost 20 years. The first time I saw him he walked into Animal Science 001 at Penn State. He was a tall, gangly dude in Wrangler’s with a badly outdated haircut. I thought “what a backwards farm boy.” Of course, only later did I discover he saw me and thought “who’s the weird chick with bleach-blonde hair that always wears black?” Over our college years Donnie’s haircut improved and I went back to a brunette while adding some color to my wardrobe. We became friends, but it wasn’t until after we graduated and went our separate ways did we realize we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. The vows we shared – for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and health – are more than mere words. They are reality in a hard-working, dedicated marriage. There’s nothing in the vows about changing a person, and over the years we have come to understand and accept (for the most part) what makes us each “unique.” To be quite honest, I can’t imagine anyone else who could put up with me, and I like to think that no one else could tolerate Donnie. That makes us just about perfect for each other. There are, however, some things I have learned (but don’t necessarily understand) in my tenure as a farm wife. For instance:
-Something that’s broke in the barn will often get fixed before something that’s broke in the house.
-A pig farmer can spend six hours straight powerwashing a finishing barn room until it’s spotless, but yet at home they can leave toothpaste in the sink, crumbs on the table, corn on the floor and pee around the toilet. At least the guys in my house do have the courtesy to put the seat down (I have learned to find appreciation in the little things!).
-You must be a mind-reader, especially when moving hogs. If you don’t read your spouse’s mind, you get a very distinct look I have come to know and love.
-Vacations, which are few and far between, usually involve a livestock show or sale. I have yet to locate a pig or cattle sale at the beach or Disney. That’s a bummer.
-Meat will be served at every evening meal. On occasion, fish is o.k. and chicken very rarely. Don’t get me wrong; I love meat and want everyone to eat as much beef and pork as possible, but on occasion I do enjoy a meatless meal. Recently, I made a delicious cherry tomato and cheese ravioli soup. As Donnie tasted it his response was “it’s o.k., but it would be better with meat.” Same with plain old spaghetti. It would be better with…meatballs, sausage, etc. Got it.
-The farm truck is also the truck that you sometimes need to run errands or take out to eat. After riding in it for so long, you get used to the distinct smell that makes it a farm truck. However, if you plan to use it for an evening out with friends (this one’s for you, Jen and Sonya), be prepared for their breath to be literally taken away as they enter the vehicle. On another note, in the event if the farm truck is not available and you have chore duty, be prepared to use your own vehicle – even if it still has that new car smell (not for long).
-Farmers spend no money on clothes, unless it’s powerwashing bibs, poop boots or work socks. Therefore, they can’t understand the appeal of Power Hours, BOGO’s or 50% off days. I have as many pairs of shoes as Donnie does hog water parts. Makes sense to me!
-If you want to spend quality time with your spouse, plan on helping with chores, riding in a tractor or making feed.
-Being a high-maintenance woman doesn’t pair well with a low-maintenance farmer. Now, I don’t think I’m high-maintenance and it’s a good thing. When Donnie proposed (in the farrowing house), he told me the gorgeous ring I received would probably be the only piece of jewelry he ever gave me. There’s been a few more things over the past thirteen years, but he was pretty much spot on with his comment. Holidays and special occasions are just not a big deal in this farm family. There’s no exotic getaways, weekend bed and breakfasts or extravagant gifts. Usually, it’s a card and maybe a meal at a nice restaurant. That is just fine with me. I have learned that you don’t have to show you love someone with material things or constant reaffirmation of words. Donnie and I love each other and we know it. Period.
-You will always come second to beans that need drilled, corn that needs dried, a sow farrowing, a cow calving and manure that needs to be hauled. When the work is done, he’ll be home. Patience is a virtue I am still working hard on, but it has improved over the years.
There’s other matrimonial and life lessons I have learned, but probably the most important one is this: unconditional love. Donnie works harder than anyone I know. He loves farming, through good times and bad. As many of you know, he rarely leaves the farm. He doesn’t go to farm shows, seed corn meetings, head to town on a daily basis for lunch or hang out in the shop. Actually, we don’t really have a shop. What he does is dedicate himself 100% to this farm and his family. He is my coach, counselor, critic and best friend. He is Dillon’s mentor and idol.
So, I guess I can take the toothpaste in the sink, a leaky roof and a “vacation” to sell calves or pigs. What’s really important is we have each other and as the years go on, I love him more every day. Happy Anniversary, Donnie. Love, Kel.