Moving Up A Teat
As John Crowe Ransom wrote in 1930, “It is out of fashion in these days to look backward rather than forward. About the only American given to it is some unreconstructed Southerner, who persists in his regard for a certain terrain, a certain history, and a certain inherited way of living.”
I would imagine this room is comprised of out of fashion, backward looking, unreconstructed Southerners! That puts me in good company!
It is a matter of great honour to me to say that I am an indigenous Mississippian and that I possess roots that run deep into the native soil of this most agrarian of States. And while I have a concern for the future, I spend most of my study time looking backward and learning from the trials and tribulations of those who have gone before me. That does not necessarily put me in the category of people who are so “trapped in the past” that they can’t forge ahead into the future.
As Pätrick Henry once said, “I know no way of judging the future but by the past” - the lamp of experience as he called it. The past, then, is a teacher. It teaches things tried and true. It chronicles the success and failure of various philosophies, theories and imaginations of men - unlike the future which is cloudy and uncertain.
I am an agrarian: not by birth, but by the grace of God. That makes me a conservative in the old historical sense of the word; that is, a lover of the permanent things. Since I did not possess these things as a birth-right, as I grew older I began to pitch my tent toward the Wall Street temple of prosperity and, of course, bent my knee in obeisance to the Gospel of Progress. In fact, for years, I laboured in good worldly fashion (in my perceived pursuit of “happiness”) to be the first to own all the new wares that modernity could produce. After all, I had to be all that I could be—reach for the sky—I had to go for the gusto—climb to the top—and any other slick cliché you might want to add.
When I was young, I was granted a “visa” and had full leave to travel across the border (mason-Dixon line y’all) and infiltrate several strongholds of modernity. It was, as you might expect, a difficult assignment to be stationed in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Chicago and elsewhere, but someone had to do it.
I brought back to the South report after report of a churlish people: rude, selfish, conceited, arrogant, narrow-minded, avaricious, and obstinate – a cross-grained people who talked funny, had odd names and ate strange food as they hid behind their 6 foot wooden fences within their locked-gate subdivisions.
This Mississippi boy got a first hand look at modernity and, while not enjoying the company of the people, did see some glitter in the prosperity. I had forgotten that good old Southern saying: “all that glitters is not gold.” And it did not take me too long to see that if the grass appeared greener on the other side, it was only because it had been artificially made so by industrial chemicals, or perhaps Astroturf. In other words, it was all a facade - people living slavish artificial lives for the so-called “reward” of weekly green stamps that could be redeemed at the various corporate stores for various techno-toys and bric-à-brac.
So, after a short time, I adjured the realm, left the cultish worship of industrial modernity and returned to Mississippi and ultimately to a state of sanity (at least by the old-fashioned definition). I still had a ways to go though. I still had a lot to unlearn. I didn’t quite know where I belonged but I certainly knew where I did not belong. Not knowing how to go forward, I went backward.
My ascent to agrarianism came from years of struggling with theological doctrines, with political and social theories, and so forth. I spent uncounted hours trying to fit the pieces of life’s puzzle together—trying to get a handle on the age old question: “Where do we come from, where are we going and why are we here?”
I didn’t grow up on a farm like my ancestors before me but I did grow up in a day were there were still remnants of agrarian communities in rural Mississippi; and these things had a tremendous influence on me. All my years in megapolis did not transform me into a duded-up city-slicker. I always carried with me in life fond memories of my youthful days trouncing in the woods huntin’ and fishin’ or just explorin’.
One day in a conversation, I was shocked to find an individual who had never been huntin’, never been fishin’ and never even been explorin’. I could hardly believe that someone could grow up never having taken a walk in the woods. Not knowing the difference between an oak tree and a sweet gum; not knowing the difference between a coon track and a dog track; not knowing from whence comes the sound of a whippoorwill or bobwhite; never having pulled the hook out of a bass’s mouth as it flops all over; never having a big fox squirrel bark at you when you were deer hunting and have deer pop up all over when you were squirrel hunting; Never having sat on the banks of the lake or creek and just absorbed the surrounding - just to be still and know that there is a God and a creation committed to our stewardship.
But I have met such people and they don’t always come from the suburbs of Los Angeles or San Francisco. We have them here in the South. Can you believe there are Southerners who ain’t never caught lightnin’ bugs and stuck ‘em in a mason jar!
The South has changed much in my sojourn of only two-score years. When I was a youngin’,we had family reunions and all the family would be there. We had singin’ and dancin’ and oh the food - real food - not this imitation stuff that you purchase in modernity’s supermarkets. We would hop on the two lane road (you know the superhighways of the day) and go visit paternal grandparents in Vicksburg or maternal grandparents in Durant (hardly metropolitan towns). And of course, you’d wave at everyone you passed, regardless of whether you knew them or not. Why? Because you were part of the community of fellow small-town Mississippians.
When you were introduced to someone you didn’t ask - “What kind of work do you do?” Rather, you’d ask “Where ya from?” “Who ya related to?” Because community, that is, connection was more important than how someone made money.
Back in the days before HBO, MTV, video games and the Internet - we youngin’s spent our time outside soakin’ up the rays of the sun, breathin’ unpolluted air, admiring the beauty of the yet un-uglified countryside being part of the big creation. We didn’t worry about crime. After all who locked their doors in those days? We didn’t worry about drugs. We were high on life. We didn’t worry about the endless pursuit of material things either. No, we didn’t have much but we were content with what we had.
And you know, we all believed in God. No, I was not always a “good Christian” but I was taught to pray every night and we even talked about Christianity in school. What I mean to say is, there was no hostility towards things Christian. Back then you could fly our beloved flag without being called a racist bigot (whatever that is supposed to mean). You could sing Dixie in mixed company. You could have streets named after Nathan Bedford Forrest. You could buy grits at every restaurant.
My how things have changed! Why is this so? Is it just the onward march of progress—the perfection of man and the world—the needful sweeping away of the old paths, the old traditions—the outdated and moldy way of thinking? Are we just catching up with the rest of the “progressive country?” Are we finally beginning to get our selves straight?
Or, have we taken a wrong turn like Bunyan’s pilgrim who left the King’s Highway because Bypath meadow appeared more pleasant on the other side of the fence, yet seemed to go in the same direction. A detour, of course, which led him ultimately to the dungeon of despair?
These are questions that modern Southerners need to face squarely. It is time for us to take our bearings for we are adrift. We are floating precariously on the sea of modernity. One sure good way to take one’s bearings is to read the Nashville Agrarians and their disciples.
This morning I want to call your attention to my favourite essay contained in the Agrarian manifesto known as I’ll Take My Stand. It is the contribution of Andrew Nelson Lytle, titled, interestingly enough, The Hind Tit.
As some of you know, Lytle was the only one of the twelve Vanderbilt Agrarians who left the University and returned to the farm. Maybe it was this exodus from the pollutions, corruptions and stresses of the city - - - breathing unpolluted country air, drinking unpolluted water from the well, eating fresh vegetables out of the garden, and so forth - - - that helped him live to the ripe old age of almost 93. Not surprising he was the last agrarian to pass into eternity, leaving this world in the year of our Lord 1995.
Now about this essay, The Hind Tit. It is broken down into three parts:
I. In the first part he discusses the ubiquitous pressures and temptations present to the farmer that persuades him to “industrialize the farm; be progressive; drop old-fashioned ways and adopt scientific methods.”
II. In the second section he shews life on the farm before opening the floodgates of modernization. He wonderfully and vividly illustrates a typical day on the farm where each member of the family is employed in their various responsibilities.
III. In the final part of his essay, Lytle describes life on the farm after the farmer has bought a tractor and a truck and has started to keep books. He successfully argues that this is the beginning of the end of the family farm.
Today I can only begin to scratch the surface of the depths of thought contained in this essay. As I’ve already said, I do not claim (in this day of experts) to possess expertise on agrarian thought. As I have tossed out the sounding lead, I have found many pockets in the riverbed that I have yet to fathom. All I can offer you this morning is some practical applications that I have learned since I began to study the Agrarians - and especially since I made my move to the farm.
I begin by quoting Lytle’s introduction to the subject:
“When you remember the high expectations held universally by the founders of the American Union for a more perfect order of society, and then consider the state of life in this country today, it is bound to appear to reasonable people that somehow the experiment has proved abortive, and that in some way a great commonwealth has gone wrong.
“There are those among us who defend and rejoice in this miscarriage, saying we are more prosperous. They tell us - and we are ready to believe - that collectively we are possessed of enormous wealth and that this in itself is compensation for whatever has been lost. But, when we, as individuals, set out to find and enjoy this wealth, it becomes elusive and its goods escape us. We then reflect, no matter how great it may be collectively, if individually we do not profit by it, we have lost by the exchange. This becomes more apparent with the realisation that, as its benefits elude us, the labors and pains of its acquisition multiply.
“To be caught unwittingly in this unhappy condition is calamitous; but to make obeisance before it, after learning how barren is its rule, is to be eunuched. For those who are Southern farmers this is a particularly bitter fact to consider. We have been taught by Jefferson’s struggles with Hamilton, by Calhoun’s with Webster, and in the woods at Shiloh or along the ravines of Fort Donelson where the long hunter’s rifle spoke defiance to the more accelerated Springfields, that the triumph of industry, commerce, trade, brings misfortune to those who live on the land.”
Who among us this morning cannot say with Lytle that in some way the “commonwealth has gone wrong” and that the “great American experiment” has proved abortive?
It is true that Americans, even Southerners, are more prosperous than our Agrarian grandparents. We have fine homes, fine automobiles, fine furniture and air conditioning. We do not have to toil so hard in labor. Food is cheap in the supermarkets. We have television and stereo at home; as well as theatres, amusement parks, and a host of other things for entertainment on the outside. Life is not as hard as it was for our forebears.
But with these things comes a price - a price quite dear: a loss of self-sufficiency and liberty, a loss of connection to community, a loss of affection for the simple and unseen, and so forth. And what is our gain? We have become a slave on Leviathan’s plantation and for this fealty we have been promised comfort and prosperity.
Lytle remarked that since 1865 the “agrarian Union has been changed into an industrial empire bent on the conquest of the earth’s goods and ports to sell them in.” Do you see what has happened here? The destruction of agrarian life transforms us from being producers to being consumers. We are no longer people with names, rather we have become a number - a single digit in a vast sea of mere numbers. We are cogs in the wheel of a malignantly impersonal modernity bent on “conquest of the earth’s good and ports to sell them in.” A multi-headed monster whose mantra is buy, buy, buy!
And buy we must, for we no longer produce.
Lytle calls this conflict “warfare” - a struggle over markets which leads to actual military conflicts between nations. Yea, a more deadly conflict because it promises to deprive the social body “not of life, but of living.” That it takes “...the concept of liberty from political consciousness; and turns the pursuit of happiness into a nervous running-around which is without logic, even of a dog chasing its tail.”
The solution to man’s malady is not to be found “...in socialism, in communism, or in sovietism - the three final stages that industrialism must take.” The answer for us is the return to the agrarianism of our ancestors. Lytle says, “It is in fact impossible for any culture to be sound and healthy without a proper respect and proper regard for the soil, no matter how many urban dwellers think that their victuals come from groceries and delicatessens and their milk from tin cans.”
But how does the farmer stand against the tidal wave of modernity and its battlecry: “...Industrialize the farm; be progressive; drop old-fashioned ways and adopt scientific methods”? How does the farmer hold out when all around him is absorption into modern society? When he hears of all the promised prosperity, how does he resist the temptation? For, after all, if farmers would just adopt the methods of progress they could grow wealthy, says the forked-tongued serpent of deceit. But as Lytle poignantly said, “A farm is not a place to grow wealthy; it is a place to grow corn.” So his exhortation is: why mortgage a life of independence to enter this experimentation with the risk of losing all that is dear!
As Lytle continues his essay - he points out that an agrarian culture and industrial warfare are sustained through the workings of two different economies. Let’s stop here for just a moment. Where does the word “economy” come from? It is derived from two Greek words oinos meaning house and nomos meaning law or rule. Primarily it referred to the management, regulation, and government of a family or the concerns of a household.
Today when we hear of economy we do not think of that basic unit of government, which is the family. Instead we think of the empirically about such things as Gross National Product and economic indicators. We think of Alan Greenspan. We think of Wall Street and the Stock Market. We think of everything, that is, except what is really important. As one so ably put it, “Society is more than the Gross National Product.”
According to the Bible the best economic indicators are those which we may find on a family farm. You might call them the three “C’s”: children, cattle and crops. These are the real economic indicators, not those endless statistics compiled by those who worship ledgers. How can I make that claim? Read for yourself:
The word bless occurs some 117 times in the Scriptures - not a one dealing with sidewalks, air-conditioning or any thing of the such. Again, we find it usually refers to the three “C’s.”
For instance in Deuteronomy 7:11-15 we read:
“Thou shalt therefore keep the commandments, and the statutes, and the judgments, which I command thee this day, to do them. Wherefore it shall come to pass, if ye hearken to these judgments, and keep, and do them, that the LORD thy God shall keep unto thee the covenant and the mercy which he sware unto thy fathers: And he will love thee, and bless thee, and multiply thee: he will also bless the fruit of thy womb, and the fruit of thy land, thy corn, and thy wine, and thine oil, the increase of thy kine, and the flocks of thy sheep, in the land which he sware unto thy fathers to give thee. Thou shalt be blessed above all people: there shall not be male or female barren among you, or among your cattle. And the LORD will take away from thee all sickness, and will put none of the evil diseases of Egypt, which thou knowest, upon thee; but will lay them upon all them that hate thee.”
Over and over again in the Book of Deuteronomy it speaks of the Lord “blessing thee in all the works of thine hands.”
These blessings ought to be the chief economic indicator and go far in gauging the true health and wealth of a society of people.
But back to our essay - Lytle points out that agrarianism and industrial modernity are antithetical. He says, “The progressive-farmer ideal is a contradiction in terms. A stalk of cotton grows. It does not progress.” And remember folks this essay was written back in 1930. Look at how the Gospel of Progress has leavened our society since then.
The second section of the essay opens with a statement very profound, “as soon as a farmer begins to keep books, he’ll go broke shore as hell.”
I was certainly confronted head on when I read that statement. My background is accounting and I have “kept books” 25 of my 40 years. I read on with great interest - not entirely understanding that statement until five months ago when I first moved to my farm.
Let me give you just one example of why you must throw out the books. One of the many things that we wanted to do on our farm was raising chickens, both for meat and eggs. Well, chickens did not come with the farm so we were quickly able to answer the age-old question that has plagued city folks: Which comes first the chicken or the egg? The answer is the chicken, trust me!
Well, we searched around and found that we could order day-old chicks and have them sent to us. Since we didn’t know of any other place locally to acquire them (none being listed in the yellow pages) we decided to order some. And, you know, you can’t order just five chicks. You have to purchase a minimum of 25 in order to keep them alive in shipment (I reckon it has to do with body heat and maintaining the correct temperature).
Anyway, we bought the minimum - and they cost us x amount of dollars. This became a debit to the ledger for expense. Next we find that brooding the chicks is quite a task to folks accustomed to opening the refrigerator and pulling an egg out of the carton. This further necessitated the purchase of a heat lamp, feeding and watering trays and so forth. They cost x amount of dollars - another debit to the ledger. Well, hens need a place to live. Not knowing how to build a proper hen house, we ordered a set of plans with our chicks.
Now, I had to go out and buy some lumber. My property is mostly cleared and I do not have a woodlot for lumber. The purchase of building materials added a large debit to my ledger.
Now chickens need something to eat. Even though we will free range all of our chickens and keep feed to a minimum, in the brooding stage indoors in winter they must be fed. Another mark to the ledger! And let us not forget they had to have grit to digest their food properly.
Now by the time we receive our very first egg and place a figure on the credit side of the ledger - we have incurred, in the language of the business world, a heavy “loss.” Not only that, but during the several months before the first egg comes there is a great amount of time spent with the pullets. Not to mention, when the eggs start coming there is a daily chore in collecting eggs - letting the hens out in the morning to free range and getting them all back in at night. To the city dweller time is money! And if the farmer ever got that notion, my word, what a large debit that would incur on the books.
Now with all this—remember—eggs are 99¢ a dozen at the supermarket. And they are already cleaned and packaged!
How does this look on the books folks! Why, after examining the ledger, one would be tempted to say, “Why bother raising chickens for eggs when they are so cheap at the supermarket. Let’s find something else that we can raise.”
But whatever the “else” is, it will probably be found in the end to be considered cheaper at the supermarket too. Whether it is planting taters or corn: the ground must be tilled, the seeds must be sown, the weeds must be pulled, on and on till harvest. And we ain’t talkin’ cool weather – we are talking about hot, humid Mississippi summer heat.
You see, if you start keeping books - if you start applying a “dollar value” to your labor you are doomed to fail from the beginning because everything becomes profit-oriented. It is done for money only, without other concerns. This leads eventually to working the cash crops which every other farmer is being forced to produce which, of course, can lead to over-production and price decline.
Here you need to understand that “books” are deceptive. While the figures - debit and credit - are true and balanced in good accounting style, the ledger only shows part of the picture. It has no columns for taste, for personal pride and accomplishment, for enjoyment in labor. It has no column for family involvement and closeness. You see, for these things it has no concern. Its aim is to produce monetary profit.
But how can you put a price on what is lost? Modernity teaches that disposable income is the reward of labor. This is a bunch of bull droppings (good fertilizer). It is not just a money thing!!! That is what needs to change in our mindsets. We think of everything in terms of the almighty dollar. But all rewards in life are not pecuniary and there is much more than the worship of mammon. When you have all the riches of Solomon, maybe you can have some of Solomon’s wisdom and see that it is all vanity - emptiness and void.
Lytle continues in his essay by describing a typical day on the farm for each member of the family: - the father and mother and the sons and daughters. That’s right, sons and daughters not given to frivolous pursuits of daily constant entertainment. Rather they are given to good and honest work. And when Lytle gets to dinner time (a thing that most city folks know nothing of and is replaced by what they call “lunch”), one sees why the ledger must be thrown out. He gets to describing the meal in such a way that you can almost taste it. And he says “Each meal is a victory over nature.”
He says that, “The dishes of food are peculiarly relished. Each dish has particular meaning to the consumer, for everybody has had something to do with the long and intricate procession from the ground to the table. Somebody planted the beans and worked them. Somebody else staked them and watched them grow, felt anxious during the early spring drought, gave silent thanksgiving when a deep-beating rain soaked into the crusty soil, for the leaves would no longer take the yellow shrivel....”
Pay attention to when he writes about milking and making butter:” The process has been long, to some extent tedious, but profitable, because insomuch as it has taken time and care and intelligence, by that much does it have a meaning.”
How much meaning can a microwave dinner have to a man? How much can he truly relish it? Can delight in a meal possibly be measured proportionately to the amount of self-sufficiency put into it? I tend to find it so.
I recently heard of a statistic which indicated that 55% of all meals have something home-cooked in them. Now, it didn’t say that 55% were home-cooked. Rather, 55% had something home-cooked in it. Judging by my own observation I would suspect that number to be high. But then, home-cooked is not defined. Instant mash potatoes may be home-cooked by their definition (ugh!).
The bottom-line is that industrial food reigns! Sounds yummy doesn’t it? When we take our noon break in a few minutes - will y’all have dinner or will you rush off to Burger King and have “lunch”? There are numerous choices of industrial fast food for the rat race society, without having to wash the dishes! How can one compare fast food hamburgers and french fries to field peas, fresh corn, turnips, real mashed taters and, of course, corn bread dripping with butter?
I guess my rabbits are smarter than city folks. If you give them a choice between fresh clover and machine-factured pellets, they’ll take the fresh greens any day of the week.
Well, we need to move on to the third part of our subject essay. Here, Mr. Lytle goes on to show life on the farm after modernization.
What this section contains is a brilliant and prophetic description of what has happened to the family farm over the last 65 years and why they have all but disappeared.
It started with the addition of machinery and dependence created for parts and fuel, as well as eventual replacement. For after all, tractors and oxen both wear out with time - but unlike oxen, tractors cannot reproduce. He talks about the debt which has been created which, of course, ties up his land in collateral.
He talks about how books are now kept and how time is money now, not property. The boys are no longer needed in the fields and are free to work at the gas station in town or elsewhere. The daughters are no longer needed to milk the cows and so forth and migrate to town as well. So immediately the family farm begins to break up. It is no longer a lifestyle, rather it is a business. And there is a harsh taskmaster watching over it. Debts must be paid on time - the one certainty. Rains are uncertain, crops are uncertain, markets and prices are uncertain, so many things are uncertain. However, in the midst of it all, one thing is truly certain - master must be paid on time.
Lytle’s description of the farmer’s industrialization is very thought-provoking. It makes one question the blind acceptance of all “labor-saving” devices - what he calls “labor-evicting machines.”
“It is true,” he says, “that labor-evicting machines will give a greater crop yield, but a greater yield does not necessarily mean a greater profit. It means over-production and its twin, price deflation”
He points to a fundamental difference between the factory and the soil. “When the farmer doubles his crop, he doubles his seed, his fertilizer, his work, his anxiety...all his costs, while the industrial product reduces in inverse ratio its costs and labor as it multiples.” And then he adds, “Industrialism is multiplication. Agrarianism is addition and subtraction. The one by attempting to reach infinity must become self-destructive; the other by fixing arbitrarily its limits upon nature will stand. An agrarian stepping across his limits will be lost.”
And our author points out that once the farmer begins to see where this is leading him, he makes an attempt to find his ancient bearings. But he discovers his provincialism rapidly disintegrating and all the propaganda put forth by the public schools and universities - and especially by the salesmen of the New Order have been working to teach him (and particularly his children) to despise the old ways and throw off the old culture.
When a man comes to himself and sees the disintegration - what is he to do?
Lytle offers this advice:
He must deny himself the articles the industrialists offer for sale. It is not so impossible as it may seem at first, for, after all, the necessities they machine-facture were once manufactured on the land. Now, those of you who understand a little Latin know what he is saying: the word for hand is manus and factio is to make. So, manufacture really means “handmade.” Continuing, he says, “and as for the bric-à-brac, let it rot on their hands. Do what we did after the war and the Reconstruction: return to our looms, our handcrafts, our reproducing stock.”
Folks, here is a great way to begin a cultural and economic secession from the Industrial Empire - stop buying their products! Return to the craftsmanship of the old days and if you can’t produce something in your community, maybe you don’t need it. I know that is a hard saying and I know that we cannot expect to do that sort of thing overnight but it needs some thought.
Further, our author says:
“Throw out the radio and take down the fiddle from the wall. Forsake the movies for the play-parties and the square dances. And turn away from the liberal capons (castrated cock) who fill the pulpits as preachers. Seek a priesthood that may manifest the will and intelligence to renounce science and search out the Word in the authorities.”
He continues, “So long as the industrialist remains in the saddle there must be a money crop to pay him taxes, but let it occupy second place. Any man who grows his own food, kills his own meat, takes wool from his lambs and cotton from his stalks and makes them into clothes, plants corn and hay for his stock, shoes them at the crossroads blacksmith shop, draws milk and butter from his cows, eggs from his pullets, water from the ground, and fuel from the woodlot, can live in an industrial world without a great deal of cash. Let him diversify, but diversify so that he may live rather than grow rich. In this way he will escape by far the heaviest form of taxation, and if the direct levies grow too exorbitant, refuse to pay them, Make those who rule the country bear the burdens of government.
“He will be told that this is not economical, that he can buy clothes for much less than he can weave them” But he then goes on to shew that the sticker price on merchandise is not the full price one really pays for something. He would have us understand that there are other hidden costs that must be factored in.
He continues:
“So long as he lives in a divided world he is rendered impotent in the defense of his natural economy and inherited life. He has been turned into the runt pig in the sow’s litter. Squeezed and tricked out of the best places at the side, he is forced to take the little hind tit for nourishment; and here, struggling between the sow’s back legs, he has to work with every bit of his strength to keep it from being a dry hind one, and all because the suck of the others is so unreservedly gluttonous.
As for those countrymen who have not gone so deeply in the money economy, let them hold to their agrarian fragments and bind them together, for reconstructed fragments are better than a strange newness which does not belong. It is our own, and if we have to spit in the water-bucket to keep it our own, we had better do it.”
And so ends this essay written 13 lustrums ago. Is it still relevant unto us today? Indeed, some parts of the essay appear dated, but the underlying principles shew forth permanent things which are not affected by fad - not affected by the years that pass.
My son, Nathaniel was named after the great agrarian warrior Nathan Bedford Forrest. When he was about two years old I started telling him stories of a boy named John Thomas who lived in Vicksburg. I told him stories of huntin’ and fishin’ and of all sorts of outdoor things. He can sit for hours and is mesmerized by the countless “John Thomas stories.” When we are sitting around the house or one of our ponds or driving in the truck - I will ask Nathaniel, “Do you want to hear a John Thomas story?” and he’ll get excited , even though some of them he has heard 300 times.
He has written John Thomas letters and talks about him to everyone. John Thomas is his hero; not Batman, not Superman and not the Power Rangers. He could care less about them. His real live non-fiction hero is John Thomas. I asked him one day who he loved better - me or John Thomas. His answer: “John Thomas”! If I were to ask him now, he would say: “You and John Thomas, sir.” At least I have moved up and share equal footing.
Mr. Kershaw and I were talking the other night about putting on a contest for the best “handed-down” story. We need to pursue this.
Part of our cultural secession from industrial modernity must be a return to the Southern code of chivalry, which includes our unique code of mannerisms. And not just the things that come to mind quickly like the yes ma’ams and the thank-you ma’ams, not just the opening the door for women or tipping your hat to them, not just the waving as you pass by on the street. These things, for the most part, have not been lost. But some things have been.
I heard the other night someone talk about his father dying and how they had to travel in a funeral procession about 30 miles into the North Carolina mountains. As they neared their destination they passed by a farmer that was hoeing in the fields. When he noticed the procession - he immediately stopped hoeing, turned around, removed his hat and placed it over his heart. Only in the agrarian South, folks!
These things we must bring back to this impersonal society of social security numbers. Folks, we who are gathered here this morning are the new pioneers. It is up to us to recapture lost arts - to re-learn forgotten truths - to preserve inviolate these things that were so dear to our forebears.
We owe it to them, our noble progenitors. We owe it to our posterity: our children, our grandchildren and our great-grandchildren yet to be born. What sort of mad society and slavery do we bequeath to them? We must not acquiesce to all this insanity and say to ourselves, “Well, what can one man do?” There is plenty that you can do, even if you are stuck in a big city.
Some of us here on the Mississippi Gulf Coast who have been dog-paddlin’ in this giant melting pot have started discussing the beginnings of an agrarian community. A couple of us have actually purchased land and have taken our discussions a little further. What we need is these “covenant communities” springing up all over the South where the chief emphasis is on agriculture and the things related to it.
No, this is not an experiment in Yankee utopianism or socialist communes. It is simply like-minded agrarian families within a locale being part of a real and genuine community where there is a common goal of re-learning and re-capturing that which has been lost. A place where we are independent, yet so community-minded as to help one another.
It is a community where Joe raises cattle, Jack raises corn, Jim has a woodlot and John has a woodshop, Jerry has pecans and fruit trees, etc. etc. And the old Southern system of bartering, known affectionately in my parts as “horse tradin’” is revived. Each family tradin’ with those in their community. Products produced locally and products consumed locally. And if there is over-production - we’ll sell it off to the city folks to pay our abominable property taxes until such time as we can do away with them.
Sure, this is over-simplified and there are many difficulties to overcome - but we are Southrons and we like a good challenge.
We opened with the words, “It is out of fashion in these days to look backward rather than forward. About the only American given to it is some unreconstructed Southerner, who persists in his regard for a certain terrain, a certain history, and a certain inherited way of living.”
We must look to the past to find the answers to our present difficulties. And I leave you with the words of Edmund Burke, “Those will not look forward to their posterity who never look backward to their ancestors.”
Bear in mind that I gave this lecture after only five months of living on my farm. I knew what I wanted to do and knew of the difficulty but still had a tremendous amount to learn. I made a lot of mistakes, but that is part of life. Ten years later I still whole-heartedly believe in the principles espoused in this paper. However, I have learned that applying those principles in a day when the whole aggregate of society is against them is not an easy thing. I didn’t say it was an impossible thing but it is certainly a task unsuited to the faint of heart.
I have seen several sincere men attempt to move to the country and try their hand at a more agrarian style of life. Just about all of these men are back in the city now. But then here comes some more to try their hand.
The biggest mistake that people make is they bring the city with them to the farm. They want a quiet rural lifestyle, they want to grow their own food and maybe raise a few critters but they can’t let go of their former lifestyle either. They may not get their television by cable but here it is piped in by satellite. They want to have all the “luxuries” they had in the city and they are hard-pressed to” A) earn the money to pay for them B) have the time to enjoy them.
The first year, feeding the critters and taking care of the garden wins out. It is new and fascinating. The second year it becomes more tedious. There is an attempt to find “shortcuts” and do things “quicker” so there is more time for television or running into town for a movie or “night out.” By the third year, things get downsized: a smaller garden, less critters, let part of the pasture go back to woods, and so forth. By the fourth year, the garden has become a weed sanctuary, there are no critters and all “spare time” is spent behind a TV screen or a computer monitor – plus the ride to work in the city now seems like too big a burden. By the fifth year, the farm is up for sale.
Of course, this is over simplified and the time varies with the individual. But believe me; I’ve seen it over and over again.
We, as a people, have lost the “rugged individualism” of our forebears. We have no pioneering spirit either. We don’t want to have the clear the field of stumps, put life back into “dead” soil, etc. – the list goes on and on. We have the “city” mentality of just writing a check for things already “done for us.”
Plus we cannot handle the uncertainty and unpredictability of agrarian life. Most city folks put their trust of security and safety in their bank account. Few agrarians have such luxury. We must put our faith in God that the drought will have an end – that the flood will recede, and so forth. There are too many things we are responsible for that rely on conditions outside of our control. It takes a certain grit of person to tolerate this while eggs are a buck a dozen and big jar of bread and butter pickles can be had for $3 plus change.
You see, I disagree that agrarianism is a different “lifestyle.” Rather I believe it to be a different worldview.
The days on the horizon appear to be dark and grim. I, for one, find more uncertainty in modernity than in the weather. But that opens up a whole ‘nother discussion that will have to wait until another time.
