4 minute read
The case of a missing parent
Parenting, though I haven’t done any myself, seems like a challenge. I admire the effort and different styles each family develops with their kids. Recently, I have noticed talk among peers about the excitement, stress and challenges that come with the commencement of the Touch of Grace by Grace Jeurissen2022-23 school year. For our Country Acres family, some of you may be juggling sports, work, farming, 4-H and school. I vividly remember my days on the volleyball court. Game days were always exciting; I loved the excitement before the competition. I personally never let a bad day distort my moves on the court, but some of my teammates did. I remember trying to console a crying friend in the locker room before a game once. The conversation went something like this: “What’s going on? Are you ok?” I said. “My parents aren’t going to be here to watch tonight because they got a fl at tire,” she said. “Oh … (Awkward pause) haven’t they made it to all of your games?” I said. “Well yeah, but they will miss this one,” she said. “It’s not a big deal, we have half a season to play yet. You can tell them about it when we get home tonight,” I said. My words didn’t seem to help her case. Maybe that’s because I didn’t understand why she would be upset about that. My parents always went to the parents’ night game. They rarely saw the fi rst volley during a match. When I showed cattle, I often drove the truck and cattle trailer myself and set up stalls alone. My parents are farmers, and with fall comes harvest, and with harvest comes countless hours of fi eldwork. I was lucky to see my mom at three of my games during the season. I was even luckier to see my dad at one. This wasn’t because they didn’t
want to be there, but because both knew the responsibility they had was to run their farm, to keep a roof over our heads and have food on the table. My parents both sacrifi ced a lot to make ends meet and to make the future of the farm possible. So, when my friend was crying over her mom and dad missing one game of the 20 we had during the season, I was disappointed and aggravated she wasn’t more understanding of their situation. It never really bothered me to see my parents not in the crowd at a game. I was there because I loved playing and I knew I could tell them all about it when I got home. So farm parents, don’t feel bad about missing a game. I’ve come to realize most families understand the sacrifi ce we make for our way of life. I truly believe that when raising your kids with the responsibility of a farm, they understand that you carry extra tasks on your shoulders and when the hired hand says the vacuum pump went out during milking, you go home to fi x it. In the words of Cesar Chavez, “Our very lives are dependent, for sustenance, on the sweat and sacrifi ce of the campesinos. Children of farm workers should be proud of their parents’ professions as other children are of theirs.” This quote emanated exactly what I am feeling as I milk cows Friday nights to give my parents a night off to watch my brother’s senior year football games. I even got to watch the last quarter of his game Sept. 9. After speeding through evening chores, we witnessed him almost sack the quarterback and cause the other team to fumble. On a typical Friday night, the echoes from the Milwaukee radio resonate the announcer’s commentary through the parlor, “Jeurissen with the tackle.” “Touchdown Bulldogs!”
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