- My Turn -

Goin’ Home Again

 

A friend recently made the memorable statement, “you can never go home again.” With the Thanksgiving holidays rapidly approaching, I contemplated whether this adage held any truth.

I grew up on a family farm in the Mississippi Delta outside of Leland, Miss. Most of my spare time was spent playing in the fields with my two older brothers and little sister. I remember fighting over who would get to hold the “flag” on the back of the truck to signal the “crop-duster” which rows to spray next.

My favorite game was playing army. You could evade the enemy (aka my brother Joe armed with hard dirt clod grenades) for hours if you got close to the stalks after the cotton had canopied. It is amazing that we didn’t “put somebody’s eye out.”

Now that I think back on it, most of my life has revolved around cotton. I remember my mother calling me at Mississippi State to say they “finally got a rain,” or they “just started picking behind the house.” In fact, because I married the North Carolina cotton specialist, we planned our wedding around when they planted cotton in the state.

When Dave took a position at Stoneville Pedigreed Seed Company, I actually had a chance to “go home again.” Our house in Leland was too small to accommodate an office for me, so Daddy insisted that I base my office on the farm out of the gazebo, which was across the driveway from their house. Sounded like a great plan. At most it was about 50 feet from the cotton field. I don’t have to tell you how hot it got in the “gazebo” in mid-July, but I loved it. I was home.

Unlike life in the big city, small town living offered different kinds of challenges. Examples included frequent power outages caused by daring ag pilots, and phone service interruptions due to laying cable a couple of blacktop roads over. One day the folks at the home office in Chicago asked if I just sat around and made up stuff like that.

Every day my mother would have “dinner” (the noontime meal) for me and sometimes my two brothers. My brothers had no idea what I did for a living. Finally, one day at “dinner” my older brother asked me, “What is it exactly that you do?”

I said with great pride, “I sell advertising for Cotton Farming magazine. It is a very important job and very complicated to explain. I have to know all about the industry in order to provide the readers and clients with the right information.”

“Why don’t you just ask farmers what they think?” he asked.

“I do. They are called market surveys,” I replied.

“Why don’t you ask them what they like?”

“Do that, too. Those are focus groups.”

“Why don’t you just ask farmers if they want to get the magazine?” was my brother’s final question.

“I do. That’s ‘requalifying the subscriber list.’”

It became apparent that I was using fancy terms for ordinary, common sense things. Recalling these events made me realize that you might be able to go home, but they probably won’t understand you anymore.

Last year, Dave and I were very fortunate to have the opportunity to buy Cotton Farming magazine along with our partner, Mike Lamensdorf – another Deltan. I personally would like to thank each of our readers and advertisers for your support. Even though I now live outside of Memphis, Tenn., this magazine has allowed me to “go home again.” In fact, it feels like a part of my family.

I hope you’ll feel welcome to stop by or write a note to let us know what you like or even don’t like if that’s the case. It is a privilege for you to allow us into your homes every month.
Happy Thanksgiving. Here’s to goin’ home…again.

– Lia Guthrie, Collierville, Tenn.
lguthrie@onegrower.com