While we all make snap judgments about the character of others, our initial opinions can be altered by experience. It might take some time, but prolonged contact under diverse circumstances often revises our first impressions.
Since my son Aaron returned to the farm, we have been developing an understanding beyond our father–son beginning. Working together shines a different light on personalities than is seen in social contexts. The Life of the Party might not be the guy you want on your committee or the other end of a bin sheet. It is shared time in the trenches that spawns esteem.
For example, we often adjust our opinion of an acquaintance after slogging through a common effort. Perhaps it was a school consolidation campaign or renovating a church camp. Such "peer evaluations" are powerful and long-lasting. At funerals, I have heard testimonies like "You can say one thing about Jim—he wasn’t afraid of hard work." For a profession that grudges awards, this is a significant accolade.
Thus, it is regrettable when farmers overlook how rare teamwork situations are for fathers and sons. Only a privileged few ever have the chance to work in tandem. For most others, shared times center on amusements such as golf, watching the game, family visits or social events. These are not activities to be dismissed as trivial—time together is time together. But for men, at least, sharing the same work environment can deepen the connection between them. Add in those incidents that test their combined competence, and you have memories with unique bonding power.
Having worked with both a father and a son, my comparison of the two relationships is a snapshot of where our profession has changed most. The measure of performance on the farm during my career has progressed from physical prowess and effort to mental agility and decision-making toughness. The standard by which my father judged me is not the right yardstick for evaluating Aaron. That can be hard to remember when it is the only ruler you have.
During the past four years, I’ve seen Aaron from this perspective with decreasing emotional distortion. More than a dutiful son, he now is a dependable partner as well. Shifting between family and teammate roles gets a little easier each season. Meanwhile, respect is earned, not just inherited.
What a remarkable gift this is in any father’s life. Many fathers struggle to understand what their adult children do every day. We want to understand in order to provide the peer respect that our gender craves from our work. Nonetheless, I observe many who work with a son who can neither relinquish authority nor set aside competitiveness to enjoy the blessing.
The Trip Is the Destination. Our division of labor is becoming less vague. Aaron manages details and virtually all operations. My contributions are shrinking down to long-term strategy, forecasting and getting off the stage as economically and smoothly as possible. To my surprise, the last task has proven most challenging.
Best of all, albeit in a strange way, we have now faced enough problems and outright failures to deflate the drama of those events. Damage control is a familiar drill, and we now realize tomorrow will come.
Even though my life is unlike what I imagined when we began this collaboration, I attribute it more to unimaginable developments in our industry and my own pessimism than poor planning and execution.
When people ask how we are managing our transition, I think I often disappoint by replying, "We’re plodding along, side by side." For me, the trip has become the destination.
Once the latest revision to The Transition Plan becomes secondary to the simple satisfaction of working together, you start to reclaim real lives from anxious defensiveness. Such road maps might be important, especially early in a partnership, but to my mind, the mark of success is how seldom you refer to them.