The Word Life.

John Deere "pinks" and writing: life.




“It’s not work—it’s a way of life.” 

If they’d had my size in stock I would have bought the John Deere t-shirt that crowed this bit of wisdom this weekend. My husband and I were enjoying some Saturday-morning shopping at a farming supply store. You can find anything from honey-glazed peanuts to horse antibiotics in such stores—along with free popcorn. I did manage to buy myself the pair of pink John Deere logo gardening gloves you see in this post’s photo. I thought they’d make a nice compliment to the pink cap the dealer gave me when we bought our new rider mower last year. 

Last week I ran into a couple of engineers I used to work with at a large defense contractor here in the city. They know I left the cubicle world to do what I do now and one of them said he couldn’t imagine “being up against deadlines like you are so much of the time.”

I couldn’t resist smiling because my deadlines aren’t any different than their deadlines. They have projects they’re working on. They have customers who are counting on them getting that project done in the timeframe they promised they would. 

How is that any different from what I do? 

I do recognize that it is the idea of the words themselves that terrify people. Having to write words—a letter—a thank you note—a sympathy note—or the description of your latest project so that you can obtain funding to carry on with it seems to just scare the crap out of people. 

It is an unfortunate state, and I while I do have empathy for such a state, it is just the opposite for me. It is the thought of not ever being able to write any more words that scares the stuffing out of me. Like anything, of course, it’s all about our perspective. 

I have an aunt and a writing friend who are both battling serious vision problems right now. The thought of not being able to read for themselves, or write their own words is terrifying them. I gave myself a kick in the pants for whining just because I lost a few hours of writing time due to routine eye exam dilation the other day. 

Of course the minute I read those 8 words on that t-shirt the other morning, I immediately thought of a working writer’s life, because I can’t help it. Nor do I want to.


6 thoughts on “The Word Life.


    Hats off to you and your insight: “sight” being the operative part of the word. It was a wonderful insight by our creator that the words we so deftly apply to paper are first rolled around in our minds and enjoyed before traveling to the fingertips to be shared. That way if vision is a problem we just get to enjoy them a little longer in our mind.

    And Frank, as a fellow soul mate I too search for those elusive products which more than not, are now made in China. God Bless the farm stores that still know that “it begins at home” and is meant to be a “community” sharing to keep us strong.

    All in all Rebecca, once again, as always, in a few short paragraphs you tittilate the fancies and fantasies of our nature to consider what is, and what could be. Keep that pen handy and roll those words on out: it benefits us all.

  2. Being a ‘farm kid’ since childhood and a ‘writer’ since elementary school, I totally relate to the theme of this blog. When something becomes a way of life, you can’t stop doing it/living it any more than you can stop breathing. Good insight, Rebecca!

  3. I am on a one man crusade to buy American products. No I’m not a xenophobe, but it seems like we should be able to make things in the USA as well as anyplace on earth. And, all I really ask for is a choice.

    I started my campaign 2 years ago when I decided that I would do without if I couldn’t find socks made in America. Everytime I visited a store (Walmart, Kmart, Walgreens, etc) I checked for American socks. And, I found a few. Then I stopped by the Theisens (Farm Store). They have everything – including American made socks in my size and preference of materials.

    God bless America, God bless Johnny Cash, and God bless the farm and fleet store…..

    • Hi Frank-

      I had to admit I was most dismayed that morning, however, as the t-shirts I was looking through were marked (and sized) in the overly small way that the imports turn out. It seemed to me that all those shirts were made for 75 pound-standing-wet customers–and that just isn’t the way the average American is built today. I was so disappointed. I really wanted that t-shirt!

      Unfortunately, we Americans did this import thing to ourselves. Way too greedy, we are. It costs us.

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