Jon, Kate and the mess they've made

My wife is a big "Jon and Kate Plus 8" fan. That's fine -- gives me an opportunity to go watch baseball on the computer.

But I had to love what columnist Kerry Dougherty wrote recently.

You've got to hand it to the publicity geniuses at TLC.

They've managed to turn a debauched family drama into an over- hyped money machine. Every time the audience shrinks, they manufacture a new marital crisis so they can start promoting an explosive new episode.

Is there anything they won't do for money?

Yep, I'm talking about the insipid sextuplet series "Jon and Kate Plus 8."

So what if there are real children involved? So what if the shameless parents parade their spats and peccadillos on TV and across the tabloids for the whole country to see? And so what if this made-for-TV family is spinning out of control, within reach of millions of remote controls?

Remember, they're messing up their lives and their kids' home for YOU.

There's only one way to make them stop.

On behalf of the Gosselin children, I'm begging you.

Turn it off.

Beef for Father's Day

From the California CattleWomen:

BEEF CITED AS TRADITIONAL FATHER'S DAY FOOD

Fathers are very special individuals, and deserve to be treated as such on
Father's Day, according to the American National CattleWomen, Inc.
Therefore, the CattleWomen are again sponsoring a "Beef For Father's Day"
promotion to encourage families to serve Dad his favorite food on his
special day. Father's Day has been chosen by the CattleWomen to demonstrate
the industry's commitment to family values on an annual basis. Started in
1953, "Beef For Father's Day" is one of the most popular promotion programs
in the beef industry.

"Beef and Father's Day are a natural tie-in," said Merrilee Doss, President
of the California CattleWomen. "Not only is beef one of the most popular
foods among fathers around the country, but the industry embraces the
strength, loyalty and integrity that we like to associate with fatherhood."
Doss pointed out that today's beef is highly nutritious. She said that it is
considerably leaner than it was 10 or 20 years ago, and there are now 29
cuts of beef that meet government guidelines for lean. Beef contains a high
proportion of nutrients compared to calories and is one of the diet's
leading contributors of iron, zinc, protein and important B vitamins.

Locally, the San Joaquin/Stanislaus CattleWomen will actively promote "Beef
for Father's Day" by donating $250 to the Salvation Army in each county
respectively, to be used toward their Father's Day menu.  The Salvation Army
was founded in London England in 1865 and came to America in 1880.  Major
Darvin Carpenter, Stanislaus County Coordinator, has been with the Salvation
Army for 40 years and says beef is a big part of their meal planning.  They
serve over 2.5 million meals annually to low income families, just in
Stanislaus County.  "The meat department is very busy the week of Father's
Day" says, Alan Borba, Manager of Oakdale's Save Mart. "We're delighted to
be part of your promotion." 

Earning my keep around the old homestead

I spent the weekend back in Eastern Oregon, visiting family for the holidays. I got to relive a little of my youth too, as I did a few chores while I was home.

When I arrived at my folks' place Friday evening, after braving some icy roads through the Columbia Gorge and freezing rain in Interstate 84 from Boardman to the Hermiston/Lexington exit, I was relieved to see my parents' home as I drove south on the Buttercreek Highway. Little did I know, the most treacherous part of my drive was still to come. As I slowed to turn into the driveway, I could see the ruts of tire tracks through the deep snow leading up the hill. I turned in, picking what looked to be the clearest tracks and headed up the hill only to feel the traction give way on the back wheels of my pickup. The tires started to spin, sending the back end of the truck sideways.

I just knew I would end my journey trudging the final 50 yards of my trip through a foot of snow carrying my luggage.

Fortunately, there is not a traffic on the road in front of my parents' house, so I backed down the driveway and onto the highway, which had been cleared of snow. I backed as far as I could without getting my back tires into the snowy shoulder to get a run at the driveway again. But I wasn't at all confident that I would get great traction as I had been driving in freezing drizzle for the last 30-40 miles. But I was sure I wanted to drive up to the house far more than than walk, I accelerated as quickly as I could without spinning the tires and charged the hill.

This time I carried more speed into the driveway and was able to keep the truck churning and slipping forward, but still making progress up the hill. I reached the house, tired from a long trip on difficult roads, but relieved to be home safe and sound.

Saturday, fortunately brought some warmer weather and the snow and ice were starting to melt. But I wasn't sure if things might freeze again. Since I had another obligation in Pilot Rock Saturday afternoon and evening, I didn't want to try to navigate an icy driveway on my return. So I decided to work on some snow removal.

I started off clearing snow, ice and slush off the sidewalks around the house. Fortunately, my brother Ron pitched in too, to save a little strain on my middle-aged back.

The driveway proved a bigger challenge. The battery was dead on the old Ford tractor, and my father informed me that the hydraulics to lift the blade weren't working either. So, I used why I had at my disposal, which was my truck and its tires. I made repeated trips up and down the driveway, trying to break up the deepest spots in the snow and widen the ruts to more than a single tire track in width. Perhaps predictably, the results were less than satisfactory.

At one point I found myself, scoop shovel in hand, trying to clear snow and slush at the bottom of the driveway.

It turned out that I needn't have worried. The meltoff continued throughout the day and the temperature stayed above freezing all evening, so there were no problems getting up the driveway later that night. And by the time I woke up Sunday, the snow was all but gone in the yard and driveway.

But if felt good to get out and do a little physical work around the ol' place. The exercise was good, but the biggest satisfaction came from pitching in without being asked — or ordered — to do so. I used to hate those sorts of chores as a kid. It seemed I was always being directed to do lawn or weed mowing, or watering, or wash cars (or trucks or airplanes) around the place. I hated it all. But this was different. It felt good to do something because it was my idea and it was something I wanted to do. Never mind that Mother Nature did the job I was trying to do much more effectively all on her own. For a few hours, it was easier to walk around the house and navigate the driveway because I got out there to put in some sweat equity.

Thank you for what you grow

In my grandparents' generation, many Americans had to grow much of their own food in order to eat. All four of my grandparents were born before and lived through the Great Depression. They came from farm families and worked on farms part or most of their lives.

My mother's mother also maintained a large garden, which provided fresh vegetables for the summer with plenty left over to can for winter meals too. There was not money for luxuries — things my generation and my daughter's generation now take for granted — but there was always plenty to eat. And the dinner table was the centerpiece of family gatherings.

A lot of families will be gathering this weekend for feasts of Thanksgiving. Perhaps the economic hardships so many are experiencing will make us remember the more basic things of life for which we should be thankful — things like having food to eat and family and friends with which we can share our meal and our fellowship.

I feel fortunate that members of my family, to present day, still make it possible for so many people to put food on their holiday table by working in agriculture. Most Americans are far removed from the farm and have little idea where their food comes from or what it takes to grow it. I've got to see those things first hand and am proud of my family members who help grow food, not only for their neighbors, but the nation and the world.

My grandparents are all gone now. My mom's mom was the last to go shortly after Thanksgiving last year. My grandparents, and several aunts and uncles, won't be around to share in the feasts of Thanksgiving. But I can't help but think of all of the family gatherings, holidays and special occasions that revolved around a family dinner table and featured food our family has grown with their own hands or had a hand in growing.

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my family and friends, near and far, and all the people who help feed us all. Their work, a labor of love and great sacrifice, is worth far more than they will ever receive in financial compensation. They deserve to be remembered and thanked this holiday as we remember the many blessings we are fortunate to enjoy.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

A summer/fall vacation

I'm back from a week's vacation, which probably sounds pretty strange to people who work in agriculture. This is the the busy time of year for most people in agriculture. A summer vacation for a farmer or agriculture business in the northern hemisphere is pretty much impossible.

Frankly, that's one reason I didn't go to work for my dad in his aerial application (i.e. crop dusting) business. When I worked for my dad in my late teens, it was just impossible to plan anything with friends because you just didn't know when you would be able to get away from work. Evening events were out, even though we didn't work after dark, because we were always up and at it before it was light each morning to get the airplanes fueled and head out to remote airstrips to work in the calm conditions after dawn. We often stopped work in the middle of the day, as the rising temperatures were often accompanied by wind, making it impossible to spray.

But that didn't mean we were done working for the day. There was always work to do, like servicing equipment and cleaning. Oh, how I hated the cleaning. And it seemed there was always something to clean. If it wasn't washing airplanes, pickups or other service vehicles, then there was always the shop floor to clean. Then, as sunset approached, the winds would calm down, and it was back to spraying again until twilight.

Even on days when we woke up to windy conditions you could never venture too far on the off chance conditions improved later in the day. So, some days we did get days off, but you didn't necessarily know it would be a full day off until the day was done and you hadn't worked.

I didn't like the unpredictability of that sort of schedule. So, instead, I ventured into newspapers, where you work a specific schedule but cover unpredictable events. It seemed a good compromise. Oh, sure, sometimes those unpredictable events have meant canceled plans, like on Sept. 11, 2001, I had been on vacation that week, but got called in to work as the nation and the world tried to come to grips with, and the media tried to cover, the stunning enormity of the terrorist attacks on New York, Washington, D.C., and the airline industry.

Agriculture businesses, like my father's, have changed a lot since I was making my career choices. There is a lot more regulation and oversight of things like work schedules, moving the industry closer too general society's "norms." Who knows, maybe if I were making my career choice today I would choose a different path. But, as the saying goes, you have to make hay while the sun shines and in agriculture, you work with the growing seasons and the weather permit it, and you take time off to recreate in the off season.

Round-Up brings people home again

The school I attended in northeast Oregon was small. Really small. So small that individual classes don't even attempt to have class reunions because if they did, the number of attendees would probably all be able to fit in the cab of a four-door pickup.

Every so often Echo High School will have an all-years or multi-year reunion and try to get pretty much any graduates to come back. But from many of us from that part of the country, there is sort of an unofficial reunion held each year during the Pendleton Round-Up. That is the time of year when many of us who no longer live in the community try to return home to visit family and see old friends.

I was fortunate last week to attend the 97th Pendleton Round-Up and see friends and family that I don't get to see nearly often enough. But unlike many Round-Up reunion celebrants, my primary reason for being in Pendleton was work. I was invited to help out the East Oregonian for the week. The EO is one of the Capital Press' sister newspapers and it's always nice to be able to help out family.

I wish to express my thanks and appreciation to the EO family for their hospitality during the week. My family also helped me out by providing accommodations and a few meals, which I'm sure my employers will appreciate, as that will be a few less costs to have to pay.

In bigger communities, it seems like there are activities and events going on pretty much every weekend. Some large, some small. But there is something electric and magical about smaller communities that put their heart and soul into one big event each year.

I was just one of thousands of former residents, and thousands more regular visitors, to make the trek to northeast Oregon last week. Whether for work, or for pleasure, it's good to visit the place and the people you come from now and again. Thanks for the great homecoming gathering.

Best assignment ever

I gave Capital Press intern-for-the-day Suzanna Schuck an assignment to write a blog post about her experience covering a story for a newspaper and being published online on a newspaper’s website. After some thought, I decided to give myself the same assignment. So here is my post about my impressions of working with our intern for the day.

When the day started – Friday, Aug. 3, 2007 – I was excited about heading to Portland to cover an event where produce grown by farmers in Hermiston, Ore., was being handed out -- including world famous Hermiston watermelons -- to folks in downtown.

It was exciting for many reasons. One is that I normally fly a desk in my job and don't get out of the office to cover stories very often. Normally that's just fine by me. Although I started out as a photographer and became a writer/reporter, I hung up my camera and notepad long ago to do the behind-the-scenes work. It was hard at first, but I grew to enjoy it. But every now and then it's nice to see if I can still think on my feet when out in the field.

As for coverage of Friday's event, I decided I was going to try something that is new for me, which is shooting video. So I played the role of multimedia reporter, shooting moving pictures and recording sounds.

But I knew my little experiment could be a complete bust if I messed up with the video camera or the digital audio recorder. Fortunately, I was able to find someone to help me out -- the Capital Press intern for the day, Suzanna Schuck.

That's what made the day especially exciting for me, because Suzanna is also my daughter. And this was our first opportunity to work together in an area where we have shared interests -- writing and media.

On this day I turned the notebook and still digital camera over to Suzanna.

We arrived on-scene for our assignment at 11 a.m., about an hour before the scheduled start. The watermelons, potatoes and cantaloupes were all gone by 1 p.m. And after a return to our "field office" and brief pause for lunch, Suzanna set to work writing her story. She and I reviewed some of the audio I had recorded to choose quotes to include in her story. And after a final edit, the story it was posted shortly before 4:30.

Most people who know Capital Press know it as a printed newspaper, which comes out on Fridays. So, ordinarily, covering an event on a Friday would mean that story can't get out to readers until the following Friday. But Suzanna was able to get a story covered and written before some of our print readers probably even had a chance to read the story previewing the event in the newspaper that was waiting for them in their mailbox -- if the U.S. Postal Service managed to get it to them Friday.

Suzanna has also been assigned to write a blog post about her experience and I admit I will be anxious to read what she has to say. I know she’s been working on it, but it isn’t quite a done deal yet. But speaking only for myself and my experience, it was a particularly poignant day. It was a day that gave me a glimpse at the past. Several of the people Suzanna and I talked to Friday were people I used to cover back in the early 1990s as a reporter for the East Oregonian and editor of the Hermiston Herald. The one and only other time I ever covered the Hermiston watermelon giveaway in Portland was back in those days.

Back then in 1992, Frank Harkenrider, who was there in the square Friday, was mayor of Hermiston, and DuWayne White, who hauled a pickup load of produce for this year’s event and helped with the distribution, was on the city council all those years ago. I believe, and my memory may be a bit faulty on the timing for this, but I believe the current mayor, Bob Severson, who served as master of ceremonies Friday, and current councilman Rod Hardin, who was also there, were on the city's planning commission back them.

And Suzanna was barely a year old.

I got to see some of the future as well. I met three young farmers who are fourth-generation watermelon growers -- Brianna, Christie and Chandi Walker who farm near Stanfield -- who are proudly carrying on their family's tradition.

And I saw some of the future of media as well, as journalists, regardless of their primary medium, were covering the event, like Suzanna and I were, with a variety of tools to capture words, photographs, sound and video.

A lot has changed since Frank Harkenrider and some folks from Hermiston starting what is now a tradition of hauling produce to Portland every summer. People have changed hats and changed roles. New people have come onto the scene and new generations have taken more active roles. Children have grown. Time has marched on.

I was glad to see first-hand that the tradition of giving away Hermiston produce has continued and grown over the years. But mostly I feel fortunate to be able to have shared some of my chosen profession with Suzanna.

For many years, our time together was limited because my chosen vocation took me far from home and family. That's one "tradition" I am happy to say has been put to rest. On Friday, what I do for a living and the Eastern Oregon roots Suzanna and I share, gave us a chance to work together and collaborate on a story about people giving to others. We saw lots of smiling faces as hundreds of people, perhaps more than a thousand, got a gift from the good farmers and folks of Umatilla County.

But I feel like I got the biggest give of all. A day sharing what I love with the person I love most in this world.

And Suzanna, thanks for your help. You did a great job. Of course my opinion is biased. As much as I worked with Suzanna on her story as an editor, the part of me that is a proud father far overwhelmed any journalistic objectivity I tried to maintain about her final work. In the end, I turned over her story and photographs to the other editors on the Capital Press staff to decide what, if anything, to do with them for any of our print editions.

Suzanna’s story and photographs appeared in two of the four editions of Capital Press for Aug. 10, 2007 – the two that circulate in Oregon. I also got a call from the publisher of our sister paper, the East Oregonian in Pendleton, who saw the photos we posted online. He wanted to know if he could use a Capital Press photo in a column he is planning for the weekend – one of Suzanna’s photos.

Knowing that Suzanna’s work was about to be published in a print newspaper reminded me of the first time I had my work published, which happened when I was in high school in Eastern Oregon. I got to know the sports editor of the local weekly paper, the Hermiston Herald, when we were both taking photographs at sports events – he for his paper and me for my high school’s yearbook. The sports editor, Bill Bighaus, was planning to do a story on two tennis players from my school, but he didn’t have a photo of them playing. He asked if I had any pictures of them, which I did. He published my first photograph several days later. It was the spring of my senior year in high school and I was 18.

Now Suzanna will experience that same rush of pride at seeing her name in print in a “real” newspaper for the first time. But it will not just be one photo, it will be several. And a story. And her work will appear in three editions of two newspapers and on at least two different websites. All that at age 16 in the summer before her junior year in high school. She bested the old man by a mile and by nearly two years. And I couldn’t be more proud to be shown up by my daughter.

That’s not to say I hope she will, nor would necessarily want her to, pursue what has been my career and turn this news thing into a family tradition. There are better paying fields out there for someone with the talents she has and is developing. But I am very happy that we got a chance to work together and be brought together by interests that at one time, when they were only my interests, contributed to keeping us apart. Fortunately a couple of years ago I was able to find a job that will allow me to do what I do a lot closer to where she lives that gives us the opportunity to spend more time together and see each other more often. And on Friday, Aug. 3, it also gave me the opportunity to work with her, try to teach her a few things and in return learn so much more about her and her interests and talents.

It all made for one of the best days I’ve ever had working and one of the proudest days I’ve ever had as a parent. Through my chosen vocation I have met a former president, covered presidential candidates, interviewed and photographed politicians, captains of industry and celebrities. I've covered Pac-10 athletics, professional rodeo and NBA basketball. But no assignment means more to me than the one I covered with my daughter and for which she got the byline and photo credits. Thanks for working with me, Suzanna. I had a great time.

Pick of the harvest

I wanted to share a few photos with Blogriculture readers that were taken today by Capital Press intern for the day, Suzanna Schuck.

Suzanna's story was posted earlier today on the Capital Press website. She had several nice photos from the day.

The photo at right actually did run with the story. This is one Suzanna identified early in the assignment as one of the favorites she had taken, at least up to that point in the day. In the photo you can see Phillip Houston, left, and Zach, the grandson of Hermiston council member Walt Acuff. Houston, who works for the Umatilla Chemical Depot, drove the truck they are sitting on. Houston has been helping with the event for six years, driving truck and passing out produce. On the right edge of the frame is Dolores Ortega of Portland, who was first in line for a watermelon, cantaloupe and 5-pound sack of potatoes.

Another photo that ran with the story is this one of Megan Stein, passing a cantaloupe down from the bed of the big depot truck to a woman on the ground. Megan is the daughter of the depot commander, Lt. Col. Robert Stein and his wife Cindy. The Steins' son Sean was also there to help out. Megan made an impression on both Suzanna and I, which is how she got featured in the lead paragraph of Suzanna's story. Her dad may be in charge of the Army depot at Umatilla, but if you saw Megan in action today, you would swear she was in command of that truck. She was directing traffic and passing out small personal-size watermelons, cantaloupes and sacks of spuds like a she'd been doing it for the entire 17-year-run of the event. All the while she was fearlessly perched on the back of the truck, calling people "sir" and "ma'am," as she asked if they wanted the particular type of produce she had in her hand at the moment. We have some audio of Megan at work. I will try to post that in some way, shape or form, because you just have to hear her for yourself.

For the most part, the real unsung heroes of the day weren't even there and they were the farmers who supplied the produce. But there were three very notable exceptions in (from left to right) Chandi, Brianna and Christie Walker of Walker Farms of Stanfield. Behind them is Portland City Commissioner Dan Saltzman. In the photo Brianna is telling the crowd that one of the most common questions they get asked is how to pick a ripe watermelon. She shared some of the ways she has seen people try to pick a good melon, but she told the crowd that she couldn't tell them what they do to pick the best melons, because it is a family secret. After all the speeches and a watermelon seed spitting contest, the Walker women, fourth generation growers, showed the male volunteers and assembled crowd how melons get moved around the field. They were pitching melons to one another, and anyone else brave enough to try to catch one, to help unload the trucks quickly. On the day, only one casualty was reported as one watermelon broke open in a fall to red-brick of Pioneer Courthouse Square.

I'll try to post some more stuff soon, here and on capitalpress.com, and Suzanna is still scheduled to write a blog post about her experience as an intern for the day.

How well do you know your family roots?

If you were asked how far back you can account for what your ancestors did as a living, how far back can you go?

There are farmers and ranchers in this county who can proudly tell you of at least a few generations, especially if they also worked the land. There are farms that have signs in their driveways that announce they have already been recognized as Century Farms.

But imagine being able to say what ancestors did 26 generations ago.

A story in this week’s Capital Press (published April 20) reports on the opening of Col Solare, an $8 million winery on Red Mountain in Washington state that has some impressive historic ties.

According to the story, written by reporter Peggy Steward, the winery is a partnership between Chateau Ste. Michelle in Washington and Marchesi Antinori, from Tuscany, Italy.

Piero Antinori first visited the Columbia Valley in 1992, leading to the partnership and first wine produced in 1995.

Steward wrote: “Col Solare’s stated goal is to meld the two wine-making cultures to produce Washington’s best Cabernet sauvignon-based wine. Period.”

They created an 18,650 sq. foot winery and 28-acre vineyard on 40 acres, and the buildings sound impressive.

“Massive stone walls, even a soaring bell tower, are a fusion of old Italian and new Northwest styles,” the story said.

While the view and the wine sound incredible, it’s the history of the family from Italy that perhaps is the biggest marvel of all.

Antinori’s family has been making wine for 26 generations, more than 600 years: how many other families can even say what their ancestors did 100 or 200 years ago?

In some cultures, the last name can give a hint of occupation was done by ancestors. For example, in the English language, last names such as Carpenter, Butcher, Archer, Miller or Smith usually could be linked to trades done by families in the past.

Sometimes, however, not everyone is delighted to find the meaning of a family name.

An uncle of mine had been determined to search our family history and traced it back several generations to Eastern Europe. He hoped to perhaps find some rich or royal ancestors, perhaps a great leader.

However, he didn’t go very far before he reached the point of discovering the meaning of our last name translated into “peasant.”

He determined it just wasn’t worth investigating any further, and our family tree still has its roots deeply hidden.

Technorati tags: Agriculture
wine
Col Solare
Chateau Ste. Michelle
Century Farm

A new link

We've added a new link onto our blogroll. It belongs to Elkton Farmers.

Thanks to the anonymous commenter who sent us the link.

Technorati tags: Agriculture

Cartoonist responds to criticism, shares memories

I got a note today from Rik Dalvit, a freelance cartoonist whom we regularly feature on the opinion pages of Capital Press. Rik saw the letter we received from Andrew Moore of the National Agricultural Aviation Association about one of his cartoons on ag pilots. Rik shared some of his thoughts with me, and I asked his permission to share those thoughts with you.

Mr. Moore wasn't very happy with the cartoon we published in the Capital Press. If you missed that, I wrote a post about it on our other blog and also posted it on this blog.

Here's Rik's response:

Gary,
I read the letter from Andrew Moore, and your response.

His use of the word "storming" rather than "buzzing" made me wonder if he actually saw the cartoon.

That cartoon remains a favorite of mine, when I did it, I never intended, nor did I think it would offend anyone.

My dad was a pilot, not an ag pilot, but a civilian recreational flier, and I was privileged to spend some incredible time in the air with him and also on the ground, hanging around the small airport where the plane, a surplus Fairchild trainer, he co-owned with a buddy was hangared.

One day we watched a pilot flying a Stearman spraying an orchard, and marvelled at the skill he exhibited.

I have watched ag pilots flying on other occasions, recognize their skill, and respect the work they do.

I have respect and appreciation for everyone in agriculture, an industry which is the foundation of a stable civilization, and prevents the necessity of all of us being wandering hunter gatherers.

I especially like working for Capital Press because of the very readership it serves.

Sincerely,
Rik

I really liked Rik's note and his sharing of the anecdotes about his father. It reminded me of many happy times I spent hanging out at airports and airstrips with my dad as a kid. The memory he shares about seeing a Stearman spraying a field reminded me of my dad and my uncle and the Stearmans they both used to use for spraying.

Dad kept one Stearman for many years, long after he had upgraded his spray planes to more modern and more efficient models. He sometimes talked about taking the spray tank out of it and restoring it to its original two-cockpit configuration. I would have loved that. I never got the chance to ride in an open cockpit plane, even though I was around them a lot in my youth. They'd all been converted to spray planes, with the front seat taken out to make room for a tank to carry ag chemicals.

I wrote a post a while back about how difficult it is to buy gifts for my father. There's only one gift I ever got him where I felt maybe, just maybe, I got it right. I got my dad a print of a painting that showed two Stearman's and a Harley-Davidson motorcycle's in it. The original painting by Stan Stokes is called "Two Ways to Fly." Stokes' work is featured prominently at the Palm Springs Air Museum. I took my dad there once and he seemed to admire Stokes' aviation art.


When I saw the "Two Ways to Fly" print, it reminded me of my dad when he was a younger man. One of my favorite photos of my dad is an old black-and-white picture with him posing with his Harley-Davidson motorcycle. And I have a very fond memory of a ride I once took with my dad on his Harley. I don't know how old I was, but I know I was pretty small. I sat up on the gas tank, with my hand on a center portion of the handlebars. And as I mentioned early, there he did some of his early flying in Stearmans. The ones in the print aren't spray planes, but when I saw that print I saw my dad.

I should have bought one of those prints for myself.

Thanks for sharing, Rik. I enjoyed reading about your memories which sparked some very pleasant ones for me as well.

Technorati tags: Agriculture

Ag pilot cartoon sputters

We received a letter-to-the-editor over the weekend from Andrew Moore, the executive director of the National Agricultural Aviation Association.

Mr. Moore was not too happy with the editorial cartoon you see here, which we published in the Capital Press last month. Here's what Mr. Moore had to say:

In the Capitol Press Ag Weekly December 1, 2006 edition, your publication ran a cartoon on page 7 titled ‘Ground Invasion, Air Assault,’ which shows aerial applicators storming ground sprayers. While we understand that the cartoon is meant to be humorous, it paints a negative picture of aerial application pilots and the aerial application industry.

Pilots in the aerial application industry are well-trained, highly professional people who take environmental and public safety very seriously and they do not storm anyone or anything on the ground. In fact, it is a violation of the Environmental Protection Agency’s (EPA) Worker Protection Standards (WPS) to treat any field with workers present. The aerial application industry is also tightly regulated by the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA). I am certain that chasing people on the ground would guarantee a violation of 14 CFR Part 91.13, which prohibits “careless and reckless” operation of an aircraft.

Aircraft help in treating wet fields and spraying when crop canopies, such as orchards, are too thick or too high for ground rigs. When pests or disease threaten a crop, time is critical. An airplane or helicopter may accomplish more in one hour than ground equipment can in one day. This means less fuel used, less air pollution and no soil compaction. The aerial application industry appreciates the importance of ground sprayers as a tool needed in agriculture when aerial or chemigation work cannot be done. In fact, many aerial application businesses today use both aircraft and ground rigs to make crop protection product applications.

Today’s aerial application industry is a sophisticated one. Again, our pilots are well-trained, highly professional and they use cutting-edge technologies to ensure their own safety, safety on the ground and the safe application of the products being dispensed. Aerial application assists in providing a safe, affordable and abundant supply of food and fiber for the world's growing population. It is also vital in protecting our natural resources and combating pests that threaten public health, such as West Nile Virus carrying mosquitoes.

The National Agricultural Aviation Association (NAAA) and its membership would appreciate the Capitol Press Ag Weekly providing space in its publication detailing the importance the aerial application industry provides to our nation’s farmers and consumers, rather than deleterious cartoons.

Sincerely,
Andrew D. Moore
Executive Director, National Agricultural Aviation Association

Maybe I should have run that cartoon past my father before I printed it. My dad is an aerial sprayer and a past president of the Pacific Northwest Aerial Applicators Alliance. Here was the note I sent back to Mr. Moore.

Mr. Moore,

I would like to thank you for your letter. We will likely be printing it in an upcoming edition, perhaps as early as this week’s edition, which will be published on Jan. 5.

I am saddened and disappointed that you are anyone with the National Agricultural Aviation Association would take offense to the cartoon we published, because I suggested the topic of the cartoon to our cartoonist and made the decision to publish the cartoon. In addition, I am the son of an aerial applicator. I grew up on the site of my father’s home-based business with the runway literally a few dozen yards from my bedroom window. I also have an uncle, who died late last year, who owned and operated an aerial application business. I also have a cousin, who works with my father and his business, who owns and operates a ground-spraying business. My formative years were spent in the company of ag pilots and my first paycheck was earned in the loading pits servicing airplanes.

It was certainly not the intent to portray ag pilots in a poor light. I’m disappointed that the cartoon was taken that way. I can certainly do nothing about how the cartoon was perceived by you or anyone else, but I wanted you to know that my intent in choosing to publish the cartoon was not to disparage an industry for which I have great respect.

Gary L. West
Associate editor
Capital Press

It's sort of odd working in a business and for a publication which covers an industry to which I have a direct family connection. In the traditional mainstream media, I would feel I would need to divulge a potential conflict of interest in writing or publishing anything related to the aerial application of ag chemicals. That's how several members of my family make, or have made, a living (as I've mentioned in a couple of previous blog posts). But now I work for an agriculture media organization where knowledge and understanding of ag-related issues is, if not a necessary prerequisite, an advantage.

It's weird. People who work in the media are often condemned for not relating enough to their sources or their readers. We are perceived as callous or aloof, which in some cases may be accurate. I can say in this case though I chose to put this cartoon on our opinion page because I thought, while not a literal depiction of actual events, it was a visual commentary on an industry (aerial applicators) under assault by the growing use of ground sprayers to do what aerial applicators can do, as Mr. Moore points out in his letter, often more effectively and efficiently. But airplanes spraying chemicals on crops — food — scares many people. Ground sprayers are less visible, less obtrusive and certainly have their own advantages. I picked the cartoon because I though it showed what some pilots may want to do -- to find a way to fight back to protect their livelihood and lifestyle.

I still like the cartoon by our freelance cartoonist Rik Dalvit. I'm sorry if ag pilots did, or will, take offense to the image. It was not my intention to offend or disparage the industry which has fed my family for more than four decades and continues to support many members of my family.

Technorati tags: Agriculture, ag pilots, opinion

Bittersweet homecoming

To continue the homecoming theme here at Blogriculture, I just got back late last night from a quick trip to visit family in the community where I was born. I was in Scottsbluff and Mitchell, Nebraska, over the weekend for the funeral of my uncle, Don West.

My Uncle Don was an ag pilot, better known as a crop duster back in the days when he was getting started in the business. He also got my dad, Landis West, started in the same business, which eventually led to my dad buying an aerial spraying business in Oregon. That led our branch of the family tree to the West Coast. But the family tree is deeply rooted in the farm country of the Nebraska panhandle.

That's where I was over the weekend, in the flatlands of Western Nebraska, where the exhaust stacks and silos of the sugary beet factories tower above the plains and are visible for miles beyond the fields of corn stubble, bean and sugar beets. It was my first trip back there in nearly 15 years and marked the first time I'd seen many members of my family in maybe 20-25 years.

In spite of the solemn reason for our gathering, it was good to spend time with family and see some familiar faces and terrain. Many of those faces now bear the unmistakable signs of time's unrelenting march. Even the "children" I remember as little more than toddlers are now grown with children of their own. And the landscape too revealed some signs of progress in some places and decay in others.

It seems inexcusable that in a time when it is so easy to reach out to people via modern communications methods, like cell phones and e-mail, that so many years have passed without a word passing between myself and so many aunts, uncles and cousins.

But there were no pointed fingers or heaped guilt. Instead there were hugs and genuine attempts to catch up on a lifetime of missed moments and reminisce about memories shared. Better still, there was a brief period of time to create some new shared memories.

Like seeds lying dormant beneath the ground, enduring years of drought and neglect, all it takes is some nourishing rain to made the seeds sprout and grow, flowering anew.

As for Uncle Don, grounded in recent years by failing health, he has once again "slipped the surly bonds of earth and danced the sky on laughter silvered wings..." to "...touch the face of God." My thanks to World War I aviator John Gillespie Magee Jr., who wrote "High Flight," probably the best-known poetic tribute to pilots everywhere.

Family
Homecoming
Ag pilots
Crop duster
Agriculture