So in my intro 40 days ago I said I would keep subsequent posts more to the point. Apologies for blabbing here once again. Since IÂ’m not a frequent poster (other than roll call with the October 2011 Basterds), just consider this my pent-up need to spew. This is just stuff thatÂ’s been on my mind lately. Nothing rage-related (hopefully I'm past the worst of that), but rather some random musings in case youÂ’ve got nothing better to read.
I always think back to my youth every year about this time. Twenty-some-odd years ago right about now, I likely would have been cutting tobacco on my granddadÂ’s farm and hanging it in the barns to cure. We younger guys always had the fun (and slightly dangerous) job of climbing up high in the barns - at least two or three rafters up - to hang the poles. Cutting tobacco always meant Summer was fading and school would be starting soon. While I hated the thought of school returning (except for high school football season!), I cherished those days working on the farm with my granddad. I remember his cap pulled low over his brow, his Oshkosh work clothes, his boots, his big tough leather hands, and of course the big juicy chew he usually had in his jaw. It wasnÂ’t Redman or Wrangler, but the homemade twisted rope stuff - - granddadÂ’s candy. It had the texture of cardboard and would set your mouth on fire. I only tried it once behind his back, and it made me turn three shades of green.
Growing up in Kentucky, I guess I associate certain times of the year with tobacco farming. I was never too deeply involved with it. I just provided an extra hand (cheap labor!) on the farm when it was needed. Early Spring meant putting out seed in starter beds and covering them with black plastic to absorb the sunÂ’s heat and to protect from frost. Then, towards the end of school in May, it was time to transplant the seedlings to the field. I always liked riding the tobacco setter, or even better driving the tractor. Later, mid-Summer meant it was time for topping and suckering the plants. There was also endless hoeing and pulling off big nasty green worms. Now weÂ’re back to late Summer and school getting ready to start again. ItÂ’s time to cut tobacco and hang up in the barns to cure. In a few months, it will be time to take down, strip, and haul off to the Burley warehouse. Seems like that is always right before Thanksgiving. I remember Christmas never being too far off, and I remember granddad burning the wood stove to keep us warm while we stripped tobacco. Sometimes the radio would be on and weÂ’d listen to Caywood Ledford (the voice of the Wildcats) call Kentucky ballgames.
Tobacco farming in Kentucky nowadays is not what it used to be, although itÂ’s still an important cash crop in the state. It was vitally important to my family in generations past. The money from tobacco farming afforded my grandparents a lot of things they otherwise wouldnÂ’t have had. It afforded both my mom and dad each a college education, the first in both of their families. Because of this, they were able to raise themselves up the socio-economic ladder which has directly benefited me in my own life. IÂ’m better off because of my familyÂ’s tobacco farming heritage. ItÂ’s a rich heritage not only in my own family, but in countless others as well.
This yearÂ’s crop looks excellent. WeÂ’ve had a lot of rain this Summer, so the leaves look especially good. While IÂ’m not a farmer and havenÂ’t had any part of it since I was a kid, I still take interest in it. IÂ’m always interested to see how the crops are doing. I enjoy looking at the farms that I pass on the drive to and from my office. I like to watch as they cut and later haul off to the barns to be hung. For the next few weeks, it wonÂ’t be uncommon to get stuck on the road behind a slow tractor pulling a tobacco wagon to the barn. It seems like the farmers are all using Mexican labor these days, but I guess thatÂ’s another topic altogetherÂ… TheyÂ’ve started cutting in recent days. TheyÂ’ll let the cut tobacco sit out in the fields for another couple days to cure in the sun before they take to the barns for hanging.
And how about that. School has started too. Right on queue. Yep, you can mark your calendar by the tobacco crop. Summer is fading to Fall.
ItÂ’s a weird feeling now as I drive through our picturesque Kentucky farm country. I love my Bluegrass State and my heritage. This is my home. And the process of raising tobacco, growing it from seed in the early Spring and taking it to market late in the Fall, is hard work for which I have the deepest respect and admiration. It is a family affair with generations of fine heritage.
But you know what? When I look at it all now after being quit these many days, I WANT TO SET FIRE TO THOSE FIELDS AND BARNS. I now look at those plants for what they truly are - - weeds that make us slaves to a horrible and nasty drug. A drug packed in a leaf that has pollutants that will make your jaw fall off or your lungs turn black. A leaf that will slowly but surely suck the life out of you, be a drain on you and your family, and send you to a painful early grave. Ironically, it didnÂ’t kill my tobacco farming/chewing granddad, and it didnÂ’t kill me after 18 years of using it. But itÂ’s killed or maimed countless others, and has deeply hurt their loved ones in the process.
I am so glad to be quit from that awful leaf. I feel sorry for all those who are still at its mercy today and havenÂ’t made the decision to quit. All those leaves I see TODAY in the fields around me are being harvested and are bound for some poor soulÂ’s lip or lungs. I wish I could destroy them before they ever get to market. That feels weird for me to say. IÂ’m not in favor of outlawing tobacco. I believe in freedom and individual liberty. But seriously, when you really stop and think about it, it really does seem crazy this cycle that we so willingly accept in our 21st century society. For all the destruction, misery, and cost that tobacco brings us, it really is lunacy that we tolerate it. It feels especially crazy to me because I get to watch it being farmed right outside my window, and I know the effects it will have on peopleÂ’s lives. But I understand. ItÂ’s not illegal. People want it. ItÂ’s a choice. Farmers make their living by it. Yada, yada, yada. ItÂ’s still a vicious, vile weed.
I canÂ’t do anything about the above, but I can sure as hell stay quit today. So thatÂ’s what I will do. My little personal protest to all the poisonous weeds being harvested around me. I can even get some satisfaction by giving the weed the finger out the window as I drive past all those tobacco fields and barns. (No offense, neighbors. ItÂ’s not aimed at you!). Heck, I may even pull over and do a victory dance right in front of her. Or, better yet, take a big piss all over her. Remember that, potential cavers! The next dip you put in your lip might come from a piss-soaked plant! Man, it feels good to tackle the nic bitch head-on, right in her own back yard no less.
Well, I guess thatÂ’s enough musings for today. Time to shut up and keep on quitting. Good talking at you basterds. I feel better.
Phil4
October 2011 Inglorious Basterds of Quit
