Grandpa's farm

My maternal grandfather was a dairyman. He was born, raised, lived, and died his 90 years in the same house. And yet, he had the opportunity to travel to each state in the nation as he performed his duties during the time he served as president (1953-57) of the American Dairy Association.

Two photos that I remember as a kid were: one of him in the oval office, sitting to the left of President Dwight D. Eisenhower at his desk with several other men standing behind them (one of which was secretary of Agriculture, Ezra Taft Benson).


The other photo was the most impressive to me as a kid. It was him and my grandmother standing next to Clayton Moore, the Lone Ranger, in all of his spandex and masked glory — the Lone Ranger, not my grandfather…or grandmother. Very impressive to a young mind…my grandpa and the Lone Ranger! (The only thing that would have made the picture better was if Tonto had been there too).


His dairy farm was named Warnila Holstein Farm — a combination of his last name and the Manila area in which he lived. He had registered Holsteins. [Note to Syd: Those are the black and white kind.] There was a feed lot across and down the street from my grandfather’s farm. With the smell of the feed lot cattle and the dairy cows, the aroma around the farm was pretty distinct — heavy on the ‘stinct.

Once my grandfather was asked, How do you stand the smell?

He lifted up his head, took a deeeeeeeeep breath, paused to savor it, and said with a smile on his face, Smells like money to me.