People, we need to talk. Now, I don’t want to be controversial or start any protests; however, I feel we need to, as a farming society, talk about this. Out there, there is an entire class of people being misunderstood and picked on because their culture is different.
They dress differently, they talk funny, and sometimes we think they are not very smart because of the way they act. People, I am talking about city folk.
Now, I know we all claim to get along. Why, how many times have we heard, “Some of my best friends are city folk.” I knew a farmer whose daughter fell in love and married a city folk. Why, it practically tore the families apart. Planning of the wedding alone was like the Hatfields vs. the McCoys.
The groom’s family insisted the wedding ceremony take place inside and actually wanted to buy meat from the hotel for the reception dinner. The bride’s father was an avid deer hunter and had just bought a hog from the fair. His freezer was slapped full of meat.
Poor girl’s mother-in-law-to-be wanted to rent chairs for the dinner. It was a summer wedding. You know what else is quite popular in the summer? Square hay bales.
One big one surrounded by four small ones – perfect table and chairs. Mother-in-law said it would make a huge mess in the reception hall. Hello! That’s why we do these things outdoors.
One of my closest friends is a city folk. He called me recently and wanted to stay the weekend with me on the farm. When have you ever heard of a farmer calling his city-folk friend and saying, “I need a couple days in the city to relax with some smog and air pollution to help me breathe easier.”
You never hear a farmer say, “Hey! These wide-open spaces and friendly people are getting on my nerves. Can I come to the city to walk in a big crowd, get jostled and inappropriately touched just to hear someone tell me to do something anatomically impossible?”
Occasionally, I find it easier to drive rather than fly to perform for my comedy shows. In some cases, I get lost in big-city traffic. Although I have never been in that city before, people seem to know my old truck. They all give me a special honk combined with a yell and always followed with a very unique city-folk wave taught to me by my sister-in-law.
I walked into a popular and crowded city coffee shop and simply asked for a large black coffee. Holy cow! It would have been easier to remove my own spleen. The barista (person who makes coffee) said they don’t carry black coffee. Two hundred types of coffee and no black? That’s like a milkshake with no milk.
It took me 10 minutes to explain to her and the manager how black coffee is the base of all their recipes. Then we had a set-back when I asked for a large. “Sir, we have demi, short, tall, grande and venti, but no large.” I settled for bottled water. I had to. I did not want them to strain themselves learning how to use the faucet.
I’m not saying we should get rid of city folk. I have a lot of cows; someone needs to drink that milk and eat that beef. Think about all the generations of farmer ingenuity to get the city folk where we want them.
All penned up in an enclosed space, where we can keep an eye on them, doing exactly what we need them to do. Now, let’s all be nice to the herd … uhhh … I mean city folk. PD
Tim is a Florida dairy farmer and stand-up comedian. Have him at your next farm-related event by visiting his website.
