You maybe struggled to hear Charles Parker talking today. But if and when you did hear those details floating out of his mouth, you were tiptoeing into a journalist’s gold mine.
That’s what I thought. Leaving Charles’ farm, I’d almost forgotten the sprayer- and picker-climbing on the big John Deeres. Instead, bits of Charles’ knowledge about the area’s agricultural and social makeup zipped around my brain like butterflies that needed to grow.
Grow they shall unless tomorrow, like today, yesterday’s mega-story shrinks against the luring of a new one. The hardest part about this trip won’t be these three days; it might be the days after them.
— By Sarah Alban, Edited by Tony Schick