Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

Waiting for my son to finish his daily run (He’s training for the Chicago Marathon), I studied the “Farmer’s Forum,” a weekly supplement to the local newspaper.  I might just as well have been reading Greek.

It’s not that farmers use a different alphabet or speak in a foreign tongue; it’s that my experience with serious farming is almost non-existent. I don’t understand tractor talk or livestock breeds or the size of acreage and parcels.  I did understand, however, that a fourth of the paper was dedicated to advertising farms that were up for auction.  I stopped counting the number of different auction firms at ten.

Reading the “Farmer’s Forum” provided no answers. Rather it made me aware that while Fargo itself seems to be prospering, something is happening beyond its city limits.  It felt almost sinister, as if a way of life is slowly disappearing.