DIRT IS OUR FRIEND

I was inspired to write after reading “Dirty Beginnings” (Our View) in the May/June 2019 issue. Like editor Rebecca Martin, I grew up on a farm. I played on a plywood floor as a baby. When I was 6 months old, Dad decided I needed a dog. So, my first playmate became a licking, germy, dirt-covered Chesapeake Bay Retriever.

My dad was from Germany and had a different attitude toward dirt and germs. My mom didn’t worry about germs either; she was more concerned with what type of snake wriggled in my pants pocket. Our farm was on the Wisconsin River and many summers were spent on it. Despite Mom telling me not to drink river water, I did anyway. The farm grew all kinds of weeds and grasses: pigweed, plantain, sumac,