“With an oink oink here, an oink oink there, here an oink, there an oink, everywhere an oink oink.”       — Old MacDonald Had a Farm

It was 1981, and I was invited to visit a working farm in Overisel, Allegan County, Michigan. I’ve been a city guy all my life, and my friend Jan thought a visit might be informative, and fun, for my son, who was 6 at the time, and for me. Brian was invited to bring a friend, and he brought Lindsay, a little girl his age whose family were friends with our family. Lindsay was a city kid too.

My friend Jan worked in an office with me. She was a colleague, and a friend. She grew up in Overisel. Her widowed mother lived on the family farm, which her brother farmed. When we arrived there one morning, and we were greeted by Jan, and her mom, and the brother, Uncle Ern; his last name was Mulder. Jan’s mom said the kids could call her Grandma Eckwielen, which they did without hesitation. It was a beautiful farm, and a beautiful day.

Kids were wide eyed as they were shown around the farm. They never had gotten closer to food production than following a grocery cart through the aisles at the grocery store. On the farm were perfectly behaved dogs, and cats that lived in the barn and kept the rodent population down. There were chickens and pigs, and fields of soybeans. There was a tractor and some related equipment.

Brian was fascinated by the manure spreader. The term manure had to be explained. Then it was revealed that the manure is put on the ground to make things – food crops – grow better, and the wagon is used to spread it over the fields. He thought it was a very big wagon, and must have held a huge amount of stuff.

“It’s a poop wagon?” he exclaimed, with a look of shock and disbelief. I think he thought initially that it was some sort of a joke, spreading animal poop around to help grow food. But four adults reassured him that was how things worked. He wanted photographic evidence of what he’d seen. Pics were snapped; Brian on the tractor, Brian standing inside the (immaculately clean) poop wagon. I would have enjoyed hearing him recount the bizarre story to his buddies.

There were pigs. Uncle Ern explained that he got little pigs, and fed them and took care of them until they were big enough to leave his farm. He didn’t offer a lot of explanation as to where they went when they left, or what happened to them then. I was prepared to answer questions, but was not disappointed when none were asked by either of the kids.

The little pigs ran around in their pen, and were charmingly as cute as possible. I suspect Brian and Lindsay had a vague notion of how we got ham and bacon, but didn’t want to think about it. The little pigs oinked and squealed and snuffled, and took turns chasing each other. It looked like fun. Brian and Lindsay would specify which pig they would want to take home with them, if they could. They knew that was not to happen. Preferences seemed based on factors like color and markings, or oink cuteness, or speed and elusiveness in the games of pig tag.

Brian wanted to get into the muddy pig pen, and chase around with them, and play pig tag too. Lindsay wasn’t so sure. I had to play the role of adult, and deem it too messy, though admitting that it did look like fun.

Now it was noon, and time to go to the farmhouse, and see what Grandma Eckwielen was up to. It was time for the mid-day meal, called dinner. Supper was the evening meal.

I hadn’t anticipated dinner. I hadn’t really thought about what we’d do for lunch. Brian was then always up for a cruise through a drive-through fast food joint, and I knew Lindsay well enough to know she would be too. But Grandma Eckwielen wanted to feed us. She explained that farmers eat big meals at mid-day, to provide energy for the hard work of the afternoon, similar, no doubt, to the hard work of the morning. I seem to recall a brief prayer, as we sat at dining room table, and then it was time to eat. And eat we did.

There was salad, fresh from the garden, of course. Homemade bread. Scalloped potatoes. Roast pork and gravy, and chicken. Corn and green beans. Biscuits that were amazingly good. And two kinds of pie. Cookies, too. The kids each got a cookie to take along for the ride home. There were hugs all around, and I’d like to think that Grandma Eckwielen and Uncle Ern enjoyed showing off the farm to the city kids. And to citified me, too.   

It was a quiet ride back to East Grand Rapids. The kids were tired. And full. And they had a delicious cookie too, even though they weren’t the least bit hungry.

Not every city kid gets the great opportunity that we had to visit the farm in Overisel. I just ate breakfast with a friend that tells me he takes his grandkids to Deer Tracks Farm Junction, up near Cedar Springs, to get them out of the city for a bit. It’s findable on the Internet, with phone number, address, directions and photos.