Farmer Tom and the Crop Rotation

by The Natural Conservative


Farmer Tom's slogan was "Time to rotate the crops."
Never mind that he'd never farmed. He was a city boy.
Presumably he knew what a crop was. He aspired to
farming. And this was his default expression when
anyone asked him about his aspiration:

"Time to rotate the crops."

Farmer Tom had never done anything about his
aspiration. He was, perhaps, waiting for an
opportunity. He bided his time as a working member of
several increasingly large clubs, dabbling in this and
that, garnering a reputation for being roundly
thoughtful and bright, routinely cheerful and
energetic.

Then he got notice that his current club was reducing
membership. Farmer Tom found his job on the chopping
block. Time to rotate the crops, he thought. He was
pondering how he could avoid the out-rotation when an
amazing coincidence re-routed his mind.

A sign on a lightpole: Farmer Allanson's land was to
be sold by silent auction.

Farmer Allanson's land was the prize of the Kingdom.
It directly and indirectly sustained countless
families. Allanson had nurtured his land in an
especially magical way, over time turning his ordinary
acreage into a model of productivity.

He seemed to do the ordinary things, yet with
extraordinary results. No one could truly discern his
formula. When Farmer Allanson was called to the
Palace to advise the new King, he left his son-in-law
in charge. His son-in-law exhibited little magic, did
not really have a vision for the land, and generally
met criticism with a sharp, "I'm NOT Farmer Allanson."

In all fairness, his son-in-law had taken over on the
cusp of a Kingdom-wide pestilence. He had perhaps
done the best he could. And while no one could say
what exactly Farmer Allanson might have done
differently, all were certain he would have fared
better than the son-in-law.

Meanwhile, Farmer Allanson was charmed by palace life
and had decided not to return. At length, he sent
word to have his land auctioned to the highest bidder.
But all bids must be submitted blindly, he declared,
the better to know how sincerely the bidder values my
land.

So, Farmer Tom drained his brokerage account, plowed
it into checking, grabbed his checkbook and sauntered
down to the courthouse to join the other bidders.
"Time to rotate the crops," he chimed, as he tipped
his hat and dropped his bid in the box.

When bids were tallied, four high bidders were
discovered. Under these rare circumstances, Farmer
Allanson had these instructions: Be certain that the
bid is within the true means of the bidder. That
condition satisfied, the eligible winning bidders must
appear before the losing bidders and make their cases.
The losing bidders will decide the winner.

The losing bidders decided to ask each of the four this
question: "What would you do to restore this precious
land?" For, as Farmer Allanson knew, the losing
bidders would not have lost for lack of love for the
land.

All four high bidders survived the veracity test and
remained eligible They drew straws to determine their
speaking order. Farmer Tom drew third.

The first speaker had long been envious of Farmer
Allanson and said little to reveal any vision other
than that of a lifelong adversary.

The second speaker had many good but impractical
ideas, despite years of experience in the field.

And neither had pithy slogans, Farmer Tom noted.

When it was Farmer Tom's turn to speak, he said what
everyone expected him to say: "Time to rotate the
crops."

"Why do you mock Farmer Allanson?" asked the
son-in-law, chairman of the losing bidders.

"What do you mean?" asked Farmer Tom.

"We have always rotated the crops. Do you not know
what crop rotation is for? How do you think the land
stayed so productive for so long. I gave it my best
shot, having watched my father-in-law for many years,
but to no avail."

"Yeah, sonny," Farmer Tom said, "and now it is time to
give someone else a shot."

The courthouse erupted in sibilant whispers.

"Can you not see," the enraged son-in-law bellowed,
"something has changed. The land is not the same. We
face a dilemma unlike any we have ever seen. And this
is the measure of your comprehension? Your thoughtful
solution? 'Give someone else a shot.' You have shown
us nothing of why we should choose you over the other
two. Next."

The fourth bidder was a good listener, much like
Farmer Allanson, and though differently in fundamental
ways, was in vision strikingly similar, with an ear to
the land and an ear to the people, with a budding
instinct for where they might meet, and with little
regard for selfish words.

The fourth bidder said, "I have watched and wondered
at Farmer Allanson these many years. He and I are as
disparate as the winds, but I can only hope, in these
uniquely challenging times, to mirror something of his
remarkable success."

The judges deliberated and chose the winner. Farmer
Tom left empty-handed, murmuring, "Time to rotate the
crops."

--The Natural Conservative is an anonymous commentator known only to WisPolitics. The commentary will appear occasionally. A similar contribution from the liberal side is welcome. Send all comments to info@wispolitics.com