GROWN FOR A SPECIAL PURPOSE

A CORN CRIB PREPARED FOR A SPECIAL CORN

(I am sorry that I have no picture of the building)

I lived and grew up on the farm when we could plant anything that we desired, cultivate, harvest, and use in any way we wanted. But, in the early 50's we took on a new project. We had been planting hybrid corn and enjoying the higher yields and higher quality corn for a few years. Rather than save some planting seed from last years crop for planting, dad must buy hybrid seed. The county agent told dad that he could become a producer of hybrid seed. This was the beginning of, “grown for a special purpose,” on the Gibby farm.

Spring came and it is almost planting time. A new farm building was being prepared near the large barn. It was a special building for one designated purpose. It was built of new lumber and the walls were so constructed as to allow air to circulate through the corn for proper drying. It was soon completed and stood ready to be used for a special purpose.

My brothers and I were to learn something that we never before experienced at planting time. After dad selected a field that was separated far enough from the other fields to insure that no cross pollination would occur, the soil was prepared with care and planting began. We learned that some seed was called “female” and some “male.” Three rows of female seed were planted to each row of male seed. This was repeated all across the field. It was cultivated like any corn but when it was too tall for conventional cultivation, we removed the weeds with our hoes. An inspector from the seed corn company showed up one day and said, “I want to see your seed corn field.” Well I thought that was nice, he wants to see our field of corn. He looked it over good and said, “It looks good, I'll see you later.” He was gone, but, “I'll see you later?”

Corn all around had begun to tassel. Dad had looked over the field every day and we awoke one morning, finished our chores and sat down for breakfast. Dad said today we have to get the tassels out of the female corn. But we reminded him that they were not all out where we could get to them. “We will get the ones that we can see and get.” Off to the field and dad said “lets get em before the day gets too hot” but it was already hot and it became hotter before we finished that first day. There is no machine that could do this, it must be done by hand. My cousin Clarence who lived in Bryson City, and I laugh about those days when dad made a deal with his dad for him to visit with me for a part of the summer because dad sent us into the field to remove the tassels. That inspector which said “I'll see you later” showed up at the end of the first day of removing the tassels. This time he had a notebook in his hand and as he walked through the field, he was taking notes. When he finished, he handed dad a grade slip and explained what it meant, explaining that if a certain criteria wasn't meant the seed corn would not pass and all the work would be for naught. We were in the field removing the tassels when the rain was coming down, when the lightening and thunder was going on. Nothing took precedent over the work that must be done in this field of corn. It truly was special.

That “friendly” inspector came back, with his little notebook, every two days. Our field passed his scrutiny when finally every unwanted tassel was removed and he gave us a final report and said “well done.”

Harvest time came and our treasured special corn was reaped by hand and brought to that special prepared place, the new crib. After a few weeks we removed the husks and put it into new, clean burlap bags. We shelled the corn from the cobs with a hand turned corn sheller. The final step was grading the corn down to the last grain and bagging it by grade into whit bags from the seed corn company.

This is the only story that I have about the corn crib, so I want to make a few applications. Note, that I mentioned that this seed corn was special and must be raised in a special way. A dedicated Christian is like this corn. Grown in a field separated from outside influence. Just as a christian must choose an environment without bad influence. The purity of this corn is guarded by careful hands and is finally approve by an unbiased judge as to its worthiness to be harvested by the reaper, and carried to the prepared place (the special crib). Finally it is graded down to the last grain just as we as Christians will

each have our time before the judgment seat of Christ. I want to hear from Him, “Well done.”

KEEPING THE SECRET

SECRETS ARE SECURE WITH THE GIBBY BOYS

Long before Bill would stand guard over German prisoners of war with a loaded carbine and long before Wayne would wear a MP band on his arm and an Army 45 on his side, while serving in Japan, Bill and Wayne were just farm boys along with their little brother.

There was not much excitement down on the farm in rural Clay county in the early '40s. A black cow, breaking through the fence, that we would chase for an hour or two before getting her back in, or the raising of a new farm building, was the extent of our excitement. We were fully aware of the war that was going on with Japan and Germany and heard of local boys who were called up to serve. Another unusual occurrence that brought the war to our attention was the constant flying over of bombers, fighter planes and troop carriers and troop gliders planes and being pulled by planes. We at times would lean on our hoe handles and count them to be a hundred are more. Where were they going? Always flying south and never returning north. We learned later that most were going to bases in Florida.

But one day some excitement did come to this quiet farm on the gravel road going to Fires Creek. Our eyes were to see something that we had never seen before. We just happened to be outside, oh well, that wasn't unusual, we were always outside, but on this particular day we saw a carrier pigeon strutting around our yard picking up some food to renew its strength so it could fly on to its destination,

We readily noticed that this pigeon was wearing a band on one leg. This raised our ire. What was his secret? Was it some secret message about war tactics, a message for only certain people or could this be only a practice run for the pigeon? However we wanted to know, being a little naive about the seriousness of such messages carried by a government bird. Bill said, “Lets catch it.” We did know that in all probability there was something secret in that little band. Our solution, of wanting to know, was to catch the pigeon, remove the band, read it, put it back on and send it on its way

No secrets are hidden from God. Eze 28:3 “behold, thou art wiser than Daniel; there is no SECRET that is hidden from thee;”

We cannot live lifestyles that are not right and pure and keep that a secret from God. Family and loved ones may not know but God always knows and one day it will be revealed.

Luke 8:17 For nothing is hid, that shall not be made manifest; nor anything secret, that shall not be known and come to light.

The pigeon did not know that it was carrying a secret but it did know that it didn't want to be caught.

The bird was not afraid as long as he could keep his distance. We tried to lure it close enough to catch it in our hands but it would keep a safe distance. It would eat the bread crumbs but not from our hands. We followed the bird all over the yard and to escape our aggression it ran under the smoke house which crawl pace was open on the sides and the front. “Now we got him,” someone said. We went in after him. One on each side and one from the front. Closer and closer we crawled and as we reached out to take him in hand, he zipped past us. I can see it like it happened only yesterday. We scrambled from underneath the building with enough time to see it take to the wing and circle to reset its compass and head due south, the same direction of all those planes. One brother said “he is gone.” You know, like I said, secrets are secure with the Gibby boys.

Over the years several pigeons would stop at the farm to pick up food and grit for their craws, but we never again tried to catch any of them.

While writing this I thought of several things: we have no secrets that God doesn’t know, and it is no secret that God loves us. The saving truth of the gospel is not a secret. It is not a secret that we will all stand before God in judgment and all the secrets of every heart will be revealed.

A LESSON IN THE BARN FOR ALL OF LIFE

The barn is the large building at the top center of the picture.  If I had known 60 years ago that I would be writing a blog about the buildings on the farm, I would have made lots of pictures.

A LESSON IN THE BARN FOR ALL OF LIFE

In other barn stories I mentioned that on one side of the barn was a thousand bushel corn crib. I know that is not large compared to some in the corn belt of the country (Illinois), but it was probably the largest one in Clay County, NC. Another note about this system of corn storage; in the time that the barn was constructed almost all corn was harvested on the ear and in the husk then later after we acquired a corn picker which removed the husk more corn could stored in the crib. A large truck could be driven right up into the upper level so corn from the field could be scooped into the crib.

From this crib we shucked (husked, for you Yankees) the corn and filled orders for local customers. Before dad bought a Howe farm scale, we just measured the corn in a bushel basket, but the scale we could give a more accurate measure. A bushel of corn on the cob with the husk removed weighs 56 pounds. Bill, Wayne and I would shuck the corn and put it into a box or basket then transfer it to burlap bags. When we first got the scale and were preparing the first order of corn for a customer dad was standing close by to observe just how we would do with the scale. We put the corn in the container sitting on the scale. Watching the marker on the scale bar with the container almost full, 50lbs, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56 lbs. One of us shouted out, “That's it.” Dad said, “that's not enough,” put more on.” We did, then he said,

“put some more on.” We did until he said, “enough.” We looked at him inquisitively and to this stare he said, “always give more than the scale says.”

Dad always lived by this rule whether it was corn from the barn or lumber from the sawmill. I remember on lumber orders, after he had scaled the number of board feet on the order he would add several boards (planks) without scaling them with his lumber rule.

What are these important lessons in life and where do they come from? The Bible addresses these principles many times, especially in the Proverbs and Jesus taught them to His followers. Dad was all about integrity and honesty and about passing it along to his sons knowing that one day they too would be faced with what to do plus teaching the values to their own children.

I remember, Evangelist Dr. Bob Jones (an evangelist of years past) as he would cup his hand around his mouth as if to magnify the sound of his voice, then he would shout, “Do Right.”

THE MOST IMPORTANT RESIDENT OF THE BARN

                             THE MOST IMPORTANT RESIDENT OF THE BARN

The barn had many residents over the years. There were the huge gentle giants, the Belgium draft horses. Each one would tip the scales at 2000 to 2500 pounds. They were used for logging in the mountains and farm work like plowing and pulling the heavy farm wagon. Other residents would be cows and their calves. A cow with a new calf would often be held in a stall for the first few days following birth of her calf. If the cow had trouble birthing she would be placed in a stall for the birthing of her calf.

However the most important resident of the barn and the longest staying resident was “Chuck,” the gray horse. No wonder he stayed so long; he got the best rates and the best accommodations. The other residents had to be productive to stay there. The draft horses had to do the heavy task of pulling

logs and plowing. The cows had to birth calves and produce milk. Chuck only had to exist and his existence continued to endear him to us all.

Chuck was an all- purpose horse. He was a good riding horse, a draft horse for many applications; which included plowing, drawing a planting machine, cultivation , wagon, mowing machine ( which frightened many horses because of the noise that it made), and logging. In fact he could be used anywhere and in any situation.

Chuck began his life with the Gibbys in Swain County, NC when dad purchased him to do farm work about 1928 and about 10 years later the family moved to Clay County. All of the family belongings including livestock were moved by truck except Chuck. Homer rode Chuck to his new home from Swaim County, a distance of about 75 miles, a 2 days journey. He traveled the the back roads and mountain trails. Homer's keen sense of direction brought him to his destination on the banks of the Hiawassee River where he did farm work and pulled logs in the mountains.

A broken promise and a promise renewed.

Dad, while in Swaim County, rode Chuck at times (hard for me to imagine because I never saw dad ride on a horse). This is were dad's endearment to Chuck began. He knew that he was a special horse but an event one day created a bond that was unusual between them. Dad related the event to me like this. He had ridden Chuck to the grist mill to get corn meal ground. On the way home and upon nearing the house, he decided to take a little shortcut. To do so he headed his mount up a sloping bank which was about 4 feet high. Chuck did not hesitate and with quick obedience he stretched himself and with one leap was up the bank. Then it happened; the saddle girt was too loose plus the fact that Chuck stretched his body to make the leap, the saddle swung underneath Chuck with dad stuck in the saddle. Chuck stopped immediately when most mounts would have lunged forward. Dad, while still hung in the saddle saw a cross-tie inches from his head. Had Chuck not have stopped dad's head would have been smashed into the cross-tie. When dad untangled himself and got to his feet he promised Chuck that he would never sell him but would provide for him as long as he lived.

The story moves forward to Clay County around 1940. Dad now owns a sawmill and has men bring logs to the mill who were using Chuck and his mate to log. The two men who worked the team, wanted to own Chuck and his mate and contract the logging operation. They petitioned dad to sell the team to them and he finally gave in and sold Chuck and his mate. They continued to pull logs and worked the horses even harder. That was the broken promise. Dad no longer owned Chuck and was not taken care of him.

The men worked the team hard but the horses had little time to rest after long hours logging because the men rode the horses several hours at night carrying liquor which the men sold and drank as well. This caused Chuck to develop a club foot which is typical of this kind of activity. Dad soon found out about this and he was heart broken. He remembered his promise to Chuck. He knew that Chuck would have to be put down or sold to a soap factory. He couldn’t bear that. The only solution for dad was to buy Chuck back. Which he immediately did and brought him to the farm down the river. I remember the day because dad related the above story and said to my brothers and me; “I want you to take good care of Chuck, give him the best hay, shelled corn and always at least a quart of oats and keep his stall clean.” This was the promise renewed. Chuck lived out his long life, pampered and loved on our farm.

At about the age of 27 or 28, Chuck got down on the ground and could not get up about 100 feet from the barn. Dad knew that this was the end. He wanted to make it as easy as possible for Chuck so he asked Dr. Staton the family doctor (there was no vet in Clay County) to come out and put him to sleep. Soon the life of a faithful friend was over and the most important resident of the barn was at rest.

What is the moral lesson in all this? First, We should always keep our promises. Dad felt that he owed it to Chuck to keep him and take care of him and indeed he did owe him but he broke that promise. He was sorry for doing so and was able to rectify his mistake. Second, animals should never be abused as Chuck and his mate were. I suppose that every time that dad saw Chuck limping around on that club foot, that the broken promise came to his mind but a good feeling also flooded his heart and mind because he had rescued him from a bad end. A famous preacher of yesteryear used to say.”Do right.” That advice applies to this story as well.

DARKNESS, A GUIDING LIGHT AND A STEADY HAND

Another life's lesson and chicken house story

I"m about ten years old and have one more farm chore to do before I can say it is a wrap on a very dark night.  Unless you have experienced it, you can't imagine how dark it is out in the country on the farm.  There are no street lights, no flood lights in the yard or along the beaten paths.  In fact at this time we had no electric service on the farm.  The night was especially dark; one of those moonless nights.

It was my responsibility to shut the chickens safely in at the on- coming of night.  You see, chickens have a very regimented life. They spend the day eating, scratching for minerals and small gravel for their craw and drinking lots of water.  Laying hens go to the same nest every day to lay one egg, then eat some more. Chickens that range outside go inside as night begins to fall and find their perch on the roost where they spend the entire night.  The chicken house door must be closed at this time to keep predators out.  This was why that closing that door was my most important task of the day.

Mom was wiping the last dish dry as I steeped into the kitchen. She looked at me and said, "Did you close the chicken house door?"  I dropped my head and said, "No not yet."  She replied with, "Well, go do it now."  I steeped to the back porch, put my hand on the screen door, pushed it half open and looked  where the chicken house sat 250 feet down the hill but I could not see the chicken house it was so dark.  Mom stood in the kitchen door and saw my hesitation.  Without saying a word or urging me out into the night, she reached for the old lantern hanging on the wall.  After striking a match and lighting the lantern, she steeped past me and out the door and said, "Lets go."  Down the hill I followed close on her heels until we came to the door which I dutifully closed and secured those precious hens for another night.

We turned up hill toward the house.  Mom took my hand in her's as she with the other held the lantern in front of us to light the path back home.

I have thought about that experience many times and thought how it is so much like what our Savior does for us in those dark times in our lives. The scriptures says, "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path."  When I come to that darkest hour and walk life's path for the last time He has promised to see me safely to my Heavenly Home.  Claim Him today as your guide for the rest of the journey if you haven't already.

My Word: ALMOST A TRAGEDY AT THE BARN

My Word: ALMOST A TRAGEDY AT THE BARN: Hold Your Nose. Barn Cleaning Time. As I stated in another blog about the barn, Wayne was at home when the barn was being construct...

ALMOST A TRAGEDY AT THE BARN

Hold Your Nose. Barn Cleaning Time.

As I stated in another blog about the barn, Wayne was at home when the barn was being constructed but then he joined the army and was gone for five years except some furlough time. I remember just where I was the last time that I saw him before he shipped out for Japan. I was walking home that day and he was heading back to his base in his 41' Plymouth Coupe. I had rounded the curve which brought me into view of the home place. When he saw me, he stopped and we chatted for a few minutes and then he was off and we would not see him again for four years. During his stint in Japan he served as a MP but during that time he became ill with an unknown disease which put him in a hospital bed for many months. When he was able to travel the Army brought him back to Fort Campbell Kentucky where his treatment continued until his discharge and he came back home to the farm.

While back home Wayne worked with Floyd and dad at the sawmill and with me on the farm. We carried the larger part of the farm work.

The barn was still the the center of farm activity. One of the least desirable farm tasks was the annual cleaning of the barn. We were fortunate to have a front end loader mounted on the WD 40 Alice Chamber tractor. Before we had this piece of equipment we would fork and shovel the manure into the manure spreader. Wayne went to work on the barn cleaning operation one day while I was in school. As you can imagine the ground in the barnyard was slick from having been frozen and now thawed. Loading the manure spreader involved going into the open end of the cow parlor, getting the scoop full and backing out and dumping it into the spreader.

After getting home from school about 3 PM, I would help with this smelly task. On the way home from school on the bus I remember wondering, if he was dong well at the job. As the bus rounded the curve on the hill opposite the barn I was alarmed at what I saw. The tractor was at the bottom of the embankment below the barn. From that point it seemed that the bus began a slow crawl because I could not get to the barn soon enough. Where was Wayne, was he at the bottom of the embankment or under the tractor, where, where? The bus finally rolled across the bridge and stopped for me. I never ran so fast; up the driveway and past the house as I hurled my books in the yard. I continued on to the back of the barn. Thoughts, horrible thoughts swirled through my head. Would I find a scene too much for my young heart and mind?Finally I got there and I saw the most wonderful sight that my eyes had ever beheld. There standing at the edge of the embankment, looking down at the tractor below; stood my brother. That experience made Wayne even more dear to me and I have held him closer to my heart since that day. When you think that you are about to loose someone you love; you love them even more.

I asked, “what happened, are you alright? When he spoke I knew he was a living miracle. The tractor had rolled several times. When it flipped the first time it threw him off and down the embankment and on the next roll the rear wheels straddled him without touching him. The tractor continued to roll until it came to rest at the bottom. He picked himself up and climbed back up to where he was standing when I arrived. Thank God he was alright, though shaken up a bit.

God had another purpose for his life and although he would become crippled, he would marry and he and Nanny would produce four wonderful children, all of whom are serving God and each are such a blessing and asset to the Gibby clan.