I was not happy as I followed my 10-year-old daughter from the show ring back to the barns. Between me and her and the halter in her hand, lumbered the stout, gentle tank of a 4-H steer that I figured was likely the best show steer we’d probably ever raise on our place. I don’t know that I really believed he’d seriously compete for grand champion at our ultracompetitive county fair steer show, but the fourth-in-class finish was definitely not what I expected. Even worse, I was not at all prepared to deal with the disappointment and, dare I say, anger that seemed to nearly consume me at that moment. I had complete confidence that the worst we could possibly do was win the class, yet here we were, trudging back to the barn, not even an afterthought in the race for the coveted purple ribbon.
As I sprayed a light mist of after-show adhesive remover on the steer’s tailhead, and my little girl switched from the show halter to the rope halter and snapped the bright-red neck rope behind her big friend’s ears, I groused about the intellectual and ocular deficiencies of the idiot the beef committee had hired for a judge. My verbal assaults were intentionally uttered almost under my breath, just loud enough for my daughter to hear, but (hopefully) not audible to anyone else in the vicinity.
When I glanced up from my chore, for a split second, my eyes locked on my daughter’s gaze, which seemed to paralyze me as she stared through my eyes and into my soul before she quickly looked away and trotted back up to the show ring to watch her older brother show in the next class.
As is what I imagine a soul-piercing stare is intended to accomplish, I was momentarily stunned. The hot mid-August sun slammed down on me as I simultaneously froze and melted where I stood. I, like most of my contemporaries, told myself and anyone who would listen that we “do this for the kids,” but in that searing moment of self-revelation, I was forced to gape at my reflection in the mirror of brutal honesty. At a time and place where my duty was to teach, comfort and even nurture one of the most important people in my life, I chose the path of petty bitterness. I chose to teach her how to cast blame, deflect personal responsibility and wallow in self-pity. My shortsighted, shallow view on the situation exposed my selfish hypocrisy. When the blows of adversity started to fly, my glass jaw shattered with the first weak jab.
Thanks to the goodness that always seemed to reside in that dear girl and has, in the years hence, faithfully seen her through her own life’s sweet and bitter trials of adolescence, adulthood and motherhood, she was able to form her own wiser conclusions from the experience. I doubt that she’d admit to even remembering that specific little meltdown of mine – of course, that may be because of the many larger, hotter patriarchal meltdowns she was witness to as a rancher’s daughter. Nevertheless, to her credit, she has always been the embodiment of the purported ideals of the youth livestock show movement. Her life of “making the best better” and “living to serve” are a precious and lasting legacy to the green 4-H cloverleaf and blue FFA corduroy.
Even though her father, whom I imagine she fully trusted at the time, figured we had a world beater with that steer, she, as a little girl not yet in her teens, was savvy enough to realize the folly in mistaking a wish for a certainty. Perhaps more importantly, she knew enough to assign to the situation only the gravity it deserved. She understood the absurdity of basing any sort of lasting happiness or sorrow on the opinion of a stranger at one particular moment at an obscure county fair steer show in southern Idaho. She even had the audacity to find a more valuable and lasting joy in her sincere happiness for her friends and siblings who may have had more success or luck than she had in the show ring.
That’s not to say she avoided the sting of disappointment. Although she had her share of success in places like the classroom and the show ring, over the ensuing years, my heart broke with hers as I watched her shed the silent tears of one who desperately wanted and deserved to win. Of her, it could never be said that she didn’t put in the requisite work and effort required to be at the top of whatever arena she entered. Somehow, she found that doing her best and being her best self don’t always coincide. Even so, she also possessed the acuity and wisdom to gain value from the lessons that life offered her.
Every year, when the summer heats up and a new school year looms as we roll into another fair season, I marvel and cringe at the results of the character-defining moments of little kids, teenagers, parents, teachers, mentors and role models that are on full display at county fairs and jackpot shows everywhere. Sadly, I always see appearances by the twin trolls of spite and jealousy – but rarely in the youth. Those are traits that they pick up later from the examples of misguided, albeit well-meaning, adults. Thankfully, the other side of the coin usually shines much brighter. That’s the side that illuminates the gratitude, compassion and spirit of community that most of us in the rural agriculture world – indeed, in the bigger world – hope to see when we look in the mirror.
