A farm kid asked his mother, “Where is Dad?” The mother replied, “He’s plowing over at Jensen’s.”  The farm kid inquired further, “Why is he doing that?” To which the mother responded, “It’s the right thing to do.”

            It’s always been that way in rural America. Farmers helping farmers, neighbors helping neighbors. If a farmer gets sick, or hurt, or tragically passes away, neighbors pitch in to sow the crops, milk the cows, care for the livestock, cut wood, do butchering, harvest the crops, and give aid and comfort.

There was an Ag News story a couple of years back about a Mitch Bradan Miller, who died suddenly in September 2021 at age 27. Miller farmed near Haynes (pop. 15) in southwestern North Dakota. In late Fall, farm neighbors brought in 12 huge combines, 5 grain carts, and 30 trucks to harvest 2,000 acres of corn. It’s the right thing to do.

Brothers Clayton and Russell Weis, farming near Burlington, Wisconsin, were working on a combine when the 6,000-pound head fell on them. Clayton was killed instantly, and Russell was rescued after three hours of agony. Russell healed, following three surgeries and 220 stitches. That Fall, 50 farmers, 9 combines, 9 grain carts, and 29 trucks showed up to harvest 280 acres of corn, days before a heavy snowstorm blanketed the countryside. Farm wives put on a dinner feast in a machine shed. Said one farmer, “You just want to do good for a friend.” Another added, “You try to make a bad situation better.” It’s the right thing to do.

On Monday, May 4, 1964, five tornadoes swept across Wisconsin. At about supper time, one of those mowed a path through Oak Grove Ridge. Oak Grove Ridge is northwest of Seneca, in the heart of Crawford County. I was home on the Scheckel farm, my day off from my electronics technician job at WKBT-TV in La Crosse. I was 22 years old at the time. One of my siblings spotted the funnel. We got up from the supper table and went outside. We all watched the tornado pass in a northeast direction several miles from the Scheckel farm. We could clearly see debris caught up in the whirling vortex.

Late that night the word went out across Oak Grove Ridge. The farm of Clifford and Edna Larsen was completely destroyed, every building leveled. By the mercy of God, the family of four escaped injuries by huddling in the basement. The Ken and Mary Ducharme farm received considerable damage. Their house had been raised up and set down, at an angle, three feet from where it should be. God also looked after the DuCharme family. Three family members found shelter in the basement and two hunched beneath heavy machinery.

Farm neighbors responded the next day, called to action by long-time Seneca Town Chair Earl Burns. Dozens went to the Larsen place, and many to the DuCharme farm. I opted for the DuCharme farmstead. I had been there before.

The three Scheckel boys, Phillip, Bob, and me, were often hired out to area farmers to help with the hay crop or silo filling. The Scheckel family put up “loose hay,” but Ken DuCharme had an Allis Chalmer Roto Baler that made those small round bales. The tractor and baler had to stop frequently, so that twine could be wrapped around each hay bale. Mr. DuCharme furnished me with two hay hooks, with the idea of plunging each hay hook on the end of the small round bale, lifting, and loading the bale onto a wagon. I believe I earned 75 cents an hour. Together, we cleared several fields of hay bales. The bales were elevatored into the barn.

The day after the tornado, I was one of about 20 men and boys that loaded debris onto wagons on the DuCharme farm. The tractor-pulled wagons motored down Hobbs Hollow Road and the rubble was plunged into a ditch. Neighbor farm women set up an outdoor make-shift kitchen and served a noontime meal. Farm boys and girls delivered drinking water. Some supplied lemonade.

Unfortunately, both farmsteads have disappeared over the years, the land rented out to other farmers. I liked to think that I did a very tiny bit to help ease the burden on these two unfortunate farm families. It’s the right thing to do.