By Jim Molenaar of New London
I can still recall the day that George Dykema came to work for my dad and uncle. My best guess was that I was in third grade and the year was probably 1967. The summer and fall had been challenging. High rainfall had left the fields wet and soggy with many areas of standing water. Saturday morning broke cool gray and cloudy, which was typical for that year. I clearly recall having a morning meeting at Vernon’s kitchen table and I listened with rapt attention to the conversation.
Apparently, a new hired man would be coming to pick corn for a day as a sort of trial period for considering employment. Vern and dad were concerned that he would be frustrated with the wet fields and that maybe he might not want to come back the following day.
Earlier that fall we had purchased a good, used 730 diesel John Deere tractor to use for plowing. An agreement was reached to attach the 730 to the New Idea corn picker for the day – even though that was not the original plan. Let’s see how it goes for a few days they figured. At noon that day I met George for the first time.
At age 65 he had recently retired from his own farm. As he came in the door to the kitchen, I can remember his cheerful greeting. The 730 and the New Idea picker suited his taste, and he confirmed this by saying, “that’s my tractor,” a phrase that was often repeated over the 14 years that George was a part of our farm. George was hired and his only stipulation was that his name was on the 730 tractor, and it remained so for the entire time that he worked at our farm.
For much of that fall – a second tractor and 200-foot-long cable were rigged to attach a second tractor on dry ground, employed to pull the 730 and corn picker through the standing water and mud. It was my job to drive the second tractor. Even with these challenges I remember a new sense of enthusiasm and positive attitude around the farm that was brought by George and his personality.
Corn picking was always a special time on the farm, I think George’s favorite. When I was home from school it was my job to haul wagons to and from the field. I would park the empty at the end of the field and hold the wagon tongue while George backed the picker to the wagon. I placed the pin and George began another round of harvesting. It was then my task to back up and hook the full wagon to the haul tractor, drive home and empty the wagon, and return to the field to repeat the process. George liked the days that I was home as he rarely had to wait for an empty wagon. The inevitable switch was made with a friendly wave and happy greeting. It was a good day when I could keep George rolling and pick almost 20 acres of corn.
Both of my grandfathers had passed away before I was born, so in many ways George filled that role for me. Morning lunch at 10 a.m. was a favorite of mine since we would gather at the kitchen table, listen to the markets on the radio, and discuss issues of the day.
One of the first things I began to enjoy about George was his positive attitude, sense of humor and lively sayings of wisdom. I’m sure I have forgotten more of these than I remember. One of my favorites (that I still use) was a favorite following a task well done or hard work completed. “We’re good men!” No late-night talk show host ever delivered a punchline with more enthusiasm or timing than George. “Let’s chores” or “I’m chore-sing this weekend,” announced the times when he took care of the livestock feeding for us. If the request involved a weekend, he would always say, “I’ll have to review my contract and speak to the union.” Of course we all knew that the union was his wonderful wife, Laura. When speaking of money – he suggested, “Remember Jimmy, it’s not what you make but what you save that counts!” or “When I was your age, I pitched manure for a full day and earned 25 cents. Just think of it, a quarter for a day of hard work!” I can’t recall George getting upset or using foul language. When frustrated he might say, “That’s the bunk” or “That’s just terrible – terrible.” Mostly I just remember a cheerful attitude as a positive role model to me.
I learned quite a bit about employer – employee relationships by observing my father and George in action. I recall my dad saying that what he appreciated about George was how he “made our farm his own.” Apparently, some previous farm hands would do only the task they were told to do and nothing more. Dad always felt that George treated the equipment, livestock, crops and farm as if they were his own. He looked out for the best interests of our farm and family.
I know that dad always asked George for advice on decisions such as selling livestock or crops, when to plant, harvest, etc. George was willing to give advice and input, but respected my father as the decision maker. For the most part I believe my father listened to George and he became a trusted advisor in the farming operation. I can’t ever recall George and dad sharing a cross word or ever having a disagreement. Having someone he trusted allowed our family to take an occasional vacation away from the farm and know that things were in good hands.
There were many things that George was willing to do for my dad and only a few jobs that were off limits. When mom went back to full-time work, I think dad wanted to try and help out with household tasks as much as possible. I came home from school one rainy day to find that dad and George had spent the day washing walls in the house. Together they cleaned windows, cooked meals, and I think maybe vacuumed too. Apparently when George returned home, he offered to his wife Laura that he would help her out – now realizing how tough those jobs were. “That’s hard work!” he stated.
We bought a Bobcat loader in the fall of 1978, and I was the first to operate the new machine. After lifting the first bucket of runny hog manure high, and having most of it spill on my lap, I learned that you need to level the bucket as you raise it up. George had seen enough. After some good-natured laughter, he announced that the Bobcat was a piece of equipment that he did not intend to operate. To the best of my knowledge he never did.
Painting was not on George’s list. Even though his brother Johnny was a well-known and respected painter in the area, George did not like painting. When asked he politely declined by saying, “I never found a brush that fit my hand.” To the best of my knowledge he did no painting over the fourteen years at our farm with one notable exception. In the fall of 1982 after my father passed away in a farm accident. George was the glue that really held our family together. His labor and emotional support were so needed in that time. When George suggested that our small garage really could use a coat of fresh red paint, I took his advice, got the needed supplies, and started in on the job. I was very blue over the loss of my father and painting gave me time to mourn and think about my family’s altered future. I still get tears in my eyes when I remember George driving up on the yard, getting out of his car and announcing, “I found a paint brush that fits my hand – where do you want me to start?” It was a gesture that only a grandfather would make.
I had been contemplating leaving my teaching job in St. Peter to return home and take over the farm. It was while we were painting that George gave me some wise advice. “Jimmy, there was no better man than your father. Look how he struggled to make ends meet and keep this farm going. Stay with your teaching job.” In the following years George would remind me. “I’m so glad you’re not farming – Aren’t you glad you’re not farming Jimmy? Times are so tough, look at the prices, it’s terrible-just terrible!” Mom used to remind me that I used to say to my dad, “It wouldn’t be much fun farming without George, would it?” I think that sums it up. Together we were Good Men. I am so thankful that he was part of my life!
Written as a eulogy for George, April 18, 2002
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