John Deere

When my uncle T. Jeff, returned from WWII, he and his bride moved in just around the corner. For several years, not old enough to drive a tractor, I rode beside him or in his lap as he plowed, pulled trailers, and otherwise managed his tractor (all of which would ossify OSHA!). I loved the sun in my face, the dust in my hair, the hum of the tractor motor, and the smell of burned fuel. I thought heaven must be like this.

When I became a teenager, my dad, a truck driver at the time, bought a used John Deere B tractor. I was thrilled! We had only a few acres, but he bought a big tractor; far more power and ability that we could ever need or use. I immersed myself into its “care and feeding.” My dad even trusted me to repair the tractor; first, replacing brake shoes—later, a complete engine overhaul.

There was no electric starter on that John Deere. That model didn’t come with one yet; the way to start the engine was to twist the flywheel, hard. It took strength, but the resounding pop-pop-pop of its two cylinder engine was reward enough. I eventually discovered dad had bought the tractor primarily to keep me from roaming the streets of Deepstep, GA.. Both streets.

John Deere is one of the enduring farm equipment companies from our agrarian past. John Deere now makes all kinds of equipment, from lawn mowers to giant earthmoving monsters. Recently I made a quick trip to Woodstock, GA (in Metropolitan Atlanta) . On the way I saw a dealership displaying acres of John Deere tractors and equipment. It brought back a flood of memories.

As we all grapple with this new world encapsulated by COVID-19 Pandemic, we tend to long for the “good old days.” It is mighty easy to fantasize about how much better things used to be. “The Back To Egypt” Committee’s siren call has a pretty broad appeal, on its surface. But the past is past. We cannot go back. We must learn from it. The author, Thomas Wolfe was correct, You Can’t Go Home Again. Not really. However you can go on from here; the attitude you take is your choice, and makes all the difference.

When I think about it, I don’t want to go back. I remember the sunburned arms, the skinned knuckles, the scar on my middle toe from a wayward axe, the stinky, sweaty clothes at days end. Nor do I want to turn back our way of living; not to the wood-burning stove, the hot, tin-roof house, the facility down the path. No, not for me. Especially, do I not want to relive the vitriolic epithets of vituperation of 2020. We can be better than we are. What I cherish— desire, actually, is this; better for all of us. Better is possible. We find it in God’s faithfulness that comes “…new every morning.”