My kids are most agreeable when they are sleeping. Sam, my oldest at 22, is asleep on a couch in my living room. "Hey, Sam..."
"Uh, Hi, Dad.... Good morning."
"Sam, I was thinking about my project, and the strongest common thread I've seen at the most successful farms I've visited is the involvement of the farming families."
"Dad, it's 7:30 on a Sunday. I'm trying to get a little sleep before I go sail in the rain.
"Well, fine," I counter. I'm just looking at possibilities... trying to understand what has made some of the best farms I've seen so strong."
"Did you buy a farm?" Jay, my middle child, an eighteen-year-old, asks from across the room, under the covers.
"No... I'm just starting to think like a farmer, and there's a lot of valuable labor on its ass, in this room." Jay and Sam have expressed interest in my latest incarnation. Sam has even come out to help.
By the end of the conversation, each kid... and I believe them... has agreed that they would give up a period of time in their lives to help me realize my dream.
"Sam," Jay says in a slumber state, "I don't know how he does it, but when Dad puts his mind to it, he makes amazing stuff happen."
O.K., so my kids believe in me, they're willing to offer to sweat out a position in a potentially prominent family business. Let's see, Sam will learn to run the sales and marketing and promotion side of the business. Jay will learn to plant fields, organize orchards, and restore and build structures as needed. Jay will likely reapply, after a year to UCONN and go for a degree from the agricultural school. Both boys will be great managers of workers because our farm will grow rapidly, will become an attraction in its own right.
Wake up, Ben!!! You're a dreamer. A sharecropper. You do a couple of hours of work in what is left of your company office, and then you come and create this beautiful garden. A financial noose will slowly close around your aging neck. It will appear as a black rat snake appears to a barn mouse, so it's time to get real. Enough of the dreams. Find a sensible job. Get your resume to a headhunter, pound the pavement, and be a good father and find a real job.
The only problem is, I've tried headhunters, and I've spoken to dozens of business owners and company workers, and that's why I'm doing what I'm doing. In fact, I believe, the only person I must report to is I. I know what it is I need to do, and either I will, or I won't. By the time the season is in full swing, the family who has loaned me their land will know me better. They will sense whether I add value to their land and lives, and perhaps they will want to know more about my vision. And honestly, my vision is shifting every day, as I see more of what other families have done with their land, and what I sense is doable based upon my abilities and experience.
Sure, this is scary, but the reason my fear manifests as exhilaration is the fact that I still have control over my goals, and I am willing to be flexible with them. I am sure other people have similar feelings.
Honestly, my kids did offer to help, to come aboard if it ever makes sense. Whether or not this ever happens, it feels good that they said it. I consider their support another couple of arrows in my quiver as I mover closer to commercialization of my dreams.
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