Slices of Life: A sacred fire: The last of a farming line, a father soldiers on
This entry is part [part not set] of 18 in the series Slice of Life

By Claire Benjamin — I’m a farmer’s daughter, but I can’t navigate the grain elevator, grease the combine or repair fence lines. I have never mucked a hog pen or delivered a stillborn lamb. My children will not build hay forts on my family farm or dams in the creek down the road. They will not tame herds of kittens or rescue baby birds from fallen nests. No more rotten apple wars. No more evenings of catching lightning bugs to feed to pet toads — their bellies flickering.

I’m the end of the line, the end of an era. After my dad retires, our land will be rented out until one day it is gobbled up by Bloomington’s urban sprawl.

Read more here …

This story was written by a University of Illinois journalism student in Professor Walt Harrington’s Literary Feature Writing class taught in collaboration with The News-Gazette. Funding for the class, which was taught at the newspaper’s headquarters in downtown Champaign, came from the Marajen Stevick Foundation. The story was part of an occasional series titled “Slices of Life” that ran in the newspaper’s Sunday Living section. All the stories in the series are also collected in the book “Slices of Life.” 

Series Navigation

Leave a Reply