"But It's Better To Be Related To One..."

Besides Christmas Eve, it was the most exciting night of the year for my Momma as a child. Her Momma, The Original Jean, would dress the sisters up in their Sunday best and even wear her own pearl earrings; it was one of the top social events of the summer, after all. Once the bows were tied and the curls were pinned, Jean would load the three girls into the Oldsmobile and head into town. 

It was the night of the Wayne County 4-H Queen Contest. 

The Original Jean never had the opportunity to be 4-H fair queen; our county started having the event a decade after she graduated high school. But for some reason, she always had a great interest in the contest. The dresses, the poised young ladies, the class. The whole thought that the young gal who took the title under the big top would be the positive spirit of the county fair. 

What Jean didn’t know back in the 1960’s is that she would have a niece and five granddaughters that would allow her to go to the contest for decades and leave “knowing a winner”...

My second cousin Julie was the first Wayne County 4-H Fair Queen in our family, crowned in 1986. She vividly remembers being “drug” to the contest by her Grandma (my Great Grandma) when she was a young girl.

Julie 1986

A note written to Julie from Aunt Jean

Twenty-five years later, Julie and Jean watching the 2011 hog show

 In 1998 my sister, Laura, reigned over the fair - Jean’s first granddaughter to win the contest she was so very fond of. 

Laura 1998

Three years later in 2001, my cousin Kathleen won contest at just sixteen-years-old. 

 Kathleen 2001

And in 2002, Kathleen passed that exciting title on to me.

 It's a Family Tradition

 Lindsay 2002

An email to Laura (1998) from my young cousin Joan

Keeping the competitive spirit alive, cousin Sarah won in 2007.

 

Jean and Sarah 2007

 And wouldn't you know, my "young" cousin Joan doesn't have to worry about collecting autograph cards from the 4-H queen this year, because she won that title last week. The last of Jean's granddaughters to compete and she certainly made us all proud. 

Joan and Jean 2011

I sat by The Original Jean at the contest this year. Just after Joan was crowned, Jean leaned over to me and said, "We won the whole deal. Guess it's true, I am the Queen Mum after all."

Yes, Grandma, you sure are. 

Marvin

As I continue with the theme of 4-H this week, I think it's important to recognize one of the most passionate 4-H kids I've never met. 

More than once, inquiring minds have asked about the boy holding the Shorthorn steer in my blog header. That strapping young kid, not even 18, is my great uncle Marvin. Marvin was the Original Jean's older brother. 

Nearly every photo I've ever seen of Marvin has livestock in it. A steer, a hog, a horse - he was a true stockman, even at an early age. 

Marvin was passionate about 4-H. He worked hard at selecting the steer that he thought would win him the purple ribbon and he spent much time with those animals to ensure docility. I rarely hear the Original Jean tell a story about her 4-H days with out including Marvin. In 1943, Jean won Grand Champion Steer at the county fair. Perhaps her greatest feat that night under the show ring lights wasn’t winning the whole deal, but beating her brother Marvin out of the competition... 

In the Beef Calf club show Wednesday evening, Jean Moyer, 13 year-old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Burley Moyer of Harrison Township, exhibited a 1,011 pound purebred Hereford to claim the grand champion honor in this year’s event. The Moyers kept the beef calf show in the family with Marvin, a brother to the championship exhibitor, winning champion breed honors in both the Angus and Shorthorn classes. They also won the award for showing the three best steers together. 
- 1943 newspaper clipping

Unfortunately, Marvin never made it to celebrate his 10th year of 4-H. 

One day while milking, Marvin was kicked in the groin by a Holstein cow. The severe injury developed into cancer, which claimed the life of the young stockman before his 18th birthday. 

It’s heartbreaking to think of what could have come of a young man so passionate about the livestock industry. What would he have gone on to do? 

Though Marvin didn’t live long enough to marry or start a family of his own, I’m confident his livestock legacy lives on each time one of the Original Jean’s grandkids, or great grandkids, walks in the the show ring at the county fair this year, more than sixty-five years after his death. 

And those, my friends, are deep roots. 

Blue Ribbons and Water Balloon Fights

I can almost see the pitch forks being hurled through the air and hear the yelling matches begin...

It’s that time of year in my area where the kids load up their livestock, bake that final pan of cinnamon rolls and head to the county fair. It’s a week full of rich tradition and history. It’s a week full of smoldering hot days and cold water balloon fights. For many, it’s the week they consider “vacation” off the farm. It's a big deal in the Midwest. 

Below is a collage of ribbons won by my Grandparents and Great Grandparents between 1942-1945 while showing cattle and pulling horses. I’m especially proud of the first place showmanship ribbon from the Indiana State Fair, 1945 and the Champion Aberdeen-Angus steer, 1944. A family with deep roots in livestock production, I saw this as the perfect way to showcase some of those successes from sixty years ago.  

In the days that lie ahead, I’ll be showcasing stories and photos from county fair experiences. 

Stay tuned...you just may read something you can relate to. 

Lessons from the Cow Path

Grass is tall right now in Indiana. The Greens Fork River is finally behaving and got back to it’s banks; the sun is shining and everything is growing quicker than a mower can keep up. The grass is green and tall and beautiful. 

And itchy. Thank goodness for cow paths, I’d never get anywhere.

Do you know where cow paths come from? A cow path is formed when a cow finds a desirable destination and continuously takes exact same route to get there; eventually others catch on to this trend, find the path and follow. Through constant wear from multiple steps, a trail is formed. And just like that, in the middle of the tallest grass or most thistle-filled lot, there is a clear, laid out walkway to the destination. 

That’s the thing about cow paths: They always lead somewhere with a purpose. They don’t just span pastures and get the cow from one end of an acreage to another. They provide an easier route to the water tank, feeder or the gate.

I suppose these paths are similar to the paths we take in life. Always a clear starting point, potentially a bit winding, always through hills and flatlands, covered in dust or water or fallen tree limbs. 

They represent the journey we’re on from start to finish. They also mirror the way some folks live this life; on the beaten path, doing what every one else has done. Doing what is easy. 

I have a cousin just young enough to still see cow paths through a child’s soul. 

Because of a tall tale my Momma told that little beauty a few years ago, Kinzee Jean believes cow paths are actually indian trails, paved by the Native Americans that still roam the pastures of BSG. Kinzee is always so careful to stay on the path and look for clues as to where these never-been-seen indians actually live. The excitement and curiosity that dances in her eyes as she walks the narrow trail is something I wish I could bottle and keep forever. I can’t help but wonder, what mystery lies ahead on her own cow path?

While the sun went down, I spent last evening trying to capture a photo of one of our momma cows. In my quest to capture the Indiana sunset holding tight to the silhouette of one of our gals, I found myself right in the middle of a life lesson. 

I set out across the tall grass. As I usually do, I was wearing cut off shorts and quickly regretted that decision; within a minute of my trek my legs were itching and covered in seeds. But, about that time the regret set in, I found a cow path.

I was able to easily jump on that tried and true trail to walk a great distance with out a single bother of tall grass or weeds. It was convenient. It was easy. And it worked. 

Until I got just far enough to realize that I wasn’t going to get the best light, behind the most distinct silhouette, by staying on that path. 

Where I wanted to be was right on that beaten path where my legs could avoid any thistles. 

Where I needed to be was thirty yards west, across the ravine. 

I looked at that setting sun and I looked across the way; I either choose now to stay the easy path and get a sunset shot, but not the one that would make me happy, or choose to take the road less traveled, through the not-so-fun stuff, go out on a limb and get the shot I had originally set out to find. 

Sorry legs, in all faucets of my life I’m pretty serious about getting to where I know I need to be. 

I learned a lesson as the orange sky turned dark and crickets started talking. 
It’s alright to not follow that cow path others may have followed for years. 
Think off the beaten path. 
Make your own way and consider the new opportunity that awaits in making a trail of your own. 

It's true: Some of life’s best moments are captured twenty yards off the beaten cow path, where you run into the thistles and frogs. 

Wordless Wednesday: Never Grow Up

On Memorial Day, my quite extensive (seriously - Dad was one of 12 kids) Bowman family got together for our annual breakfast. This is a heck of a deal. The breakfast is cooked over open flame and serves dozens of people, spanning generations. Many thanks to Brian who married into the family and faces the fire and hot cast iron skillets annually; I went to his wedding - open flames in 80 degree weather was NOT in the vows. 

Not only were babies there for the first time...

Happy Harrison!

there were also four-year-olds that I thought may have straggled over from another reunion on the opposite side of the park. Turns out, we were related. Sorry, kid, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Your dad, my first cousin, graduated high school the same year I was born - how was I to know? To make up for those tears, I’ll give you twenty-five bucks if I’m invited to your high school graduation party in 2027 - but that’s only if you can remember my name. 


Good luck. 

Of course I took my camera, and followed around a crazy little blonde girl I adore so much: My niece Marlee. 

Consider today Jean’s second-ever “Wordless Wednesday” - And special thanks to my fantastic brother-in-law Scott who helped me capture these moments!

This is where things got interesting...Marlee and Cousin both wanted to ride the whale...

Minor break down...

So, Marlee decides to be interested in ants on the whale....

And she gets Cousin off the whale and excited about ants, too!

Then Cousin forgets about whale and Marlee celebrates!

Dirty work is done...

Whale time!

Future so bright...It's Scary!

To you, everything's funny
You got nothing to regret
I'd give all I have, honey
If you could stay like that

Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up
Just stay this little
Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up
It could stay this simple

I won't let nobody hurt you
Won't let no one break your heart
No, no one will desert you
Just try to never grow up, never grow up