The Last Farmer
The Last Farmer: One Year on a Fading Family Farm
He’s a 60-year-old link in the global food chain, with a balky back and red, leathery face that exhibits sun damage. He’s a one-man food corporation. But age is creeping up. And development around the 400 acres he farms in suburban Central Pennsylvania is closing in.
The core of the farm has been in the family for five generations. But there’s no clear line of succession to the next. His land and equipment — holdings that represent a lifetime of work — represent little more than agricultural assets to be split up and sold off.
He’s the Last Farmer. And his fate reflects the state of the American farmer in microcosm: Its once-sturdy ranks are aging, graying and thinning.
They are, perhaps, the greatest generation of American farmers. They feed a nation and help nourish a planet of 7 billion people — all while complying with ever-stricter environmental rules to till a shrinking supply of arable land.
Finally, after lean years, dry times and millions of man-hours of hard work, crop farmers are reaping some of the highest prices for their bounty in the global commodities market. But instead of this windfall securing their industry and solidifying their future – it might be a bright burn before a long, slow fade.
This generation of American family farmers could well be the best — and the last.
Yet, the Last Farmer will keep going as long as he can. The seasons call to him. Nature’s familiar rhythms are a comfort and a friend. His profession is a way of life. His work, a kind of religion. And his office is a cathedral.
Journalist John Luciew documents one year on a family farm. The result is an indelible, Rockwellian portrait of American agriculture as it used to be, as it still is, and as it might never be again. Don’t miss The Last Farmer. It’s an ode to the heartland, a tribute to true Americans and a prayer for the future that family farmers might still be around to feed a hungry world.
1112474878
He’s a 60-year-old link in the global food chain, with a balky back and red, leathery face that exhibits sun damage. He’s a one-man food corporation. But age is creeping up. And development around the 400 acres he farms in suburban Central Pennsylvania is closing in.
The core of the farm has been in the family for five generations. But there’s no clear line of succession to the next. His land and equipment — holdings that represent a lifetime of work — represent little more than agricultural assets to be split up and sold off.
He’s the Last Farmer. And his fate reflects the state of the American farmer in microcosm: Its once-sturdy ranks are aging, graying and thinning.
They are, perhaps, the greatest generation of American farmers. They feed a nation and help nourish a planet of 7 billion people — all while complying with ever-stricter environmental rules to till a shrinking supply of arable land.
Finally, after lean years, dry times and millions of man-hours of hard work, crop farmers are reaping some of the highest prices for their bounty in the global commodities market. But instead of this windfall securing their industry and solidifying their future – it might be a bright burn before a long, slow fade.
This generation of American family farmers could well be the best — and the last.
Yet, the Last Farmer will keep going as long as he can. The seasons call to him. Nature’s familiar rhythms are a comfort and a friend. His profession is a way of life. His work, a kind of religion. And his office is a cathedral.
Journalist John Luciew documents one year on a family farm. The result is an indelible, Rockwellian portrait of American agriculture as it used to be, as it still is, and as it might never be again. Don’t miss The Last Farmer. It’s an ode to the heartland, a tribute to true Americans and a prayer for the future that family farmers might still be around to feed a hungry world.
The Last Farmer
The Last Farmer: One Year on a Fading Family Farm
He’s a 60-year-old link in the global food chain, with a balky back and red, leathery face that exhibits sun damage. He’s a one-man food corporation. But age is creeping up. And development around the 400 acres he farms in suburban Central Pennsylvania is closing in.
The core of the farm has been in the family for five generations. But there’s no clear line of succession to the next. His land and equipment — holdings that represent a lifetime of work — represent little more than agricultural assets to be split up and sold off.
He’s the Last Farmer. And his fate reflects the state of the American farmer in microcosm: Its once-sturdy ranks are aging, graying and thinning.
They are, perhaps, the greatest generation of American farmers. They feed a nation and help nourish a planet of 7 billion people — all while complying with ever-stricter environmental rules to till a shrinking supply of arable land.
Finally, after lean years, dry times and millions of man-hours of hard work, crop farmers are reaping some of the highest prices for their bounty in the global commodities market. But instead of this windfall securing their industry and solidifying their future – it might be a bright burn before a long, slow fade.
This generation of American family farmers could well be the best — and the last.
Yet, the Last Farmer will keep going as long as he can. The seasons call to him. Nature’s familiar rhythms are a comfort and a friend. His profession is a way of life. His work, a kind of religion. And his office is a cathedral.
Journalist John Luciew documents one year on a family farm. The result is an indelible, Rockwellian portrait of American agriculture as it used to be, as it still is, and as it might never be again. Don’t miss The Last Farmer. It’s an ode to the heartland, a tribute to true Americans and a prayer for the future that family farmers might still be around to feed a hungry world.
He’s a 60-year-old link in the global food chain, with a balky back and red, leathery face that exhibits sun damage. He’s a one-man food corporation. But age is creeping up. And development around the 400 acres he farms in suburban Central Pennsylvania is closing in.
The core of the farm has been in the family for five generations. But there’s no clear line of succession to the next. His land and equipment — holdings that represent a lifetime of work — represent little more than agricultural assets to be split up and sold off.
He’s the Last Farmer. And his fate reflects the state of the American farmer in microcosm: Its once-sturdy ranks are aging, graying and thinning.
They are, perhaps, the greatest generation of American farmers. They feed a nation and help nourish a planet of 7 billion people — all while complying with ever-stricter environmental rules to till a shrinking supply of arable land.
Finally, after lean years, dry times and millions of man-hours of hard work, crop farmers are reaping some of the highest prices for their bounty in the global commodities market. But instead of this windfall securing their industry and solidifying their future – it might be a bright burn before a long, slow fade.
This generation of American family farmers could well be the best — and the last.
Yet, the Last Farmer will keep going as long as he can. The seasons call to him. Nature’s familiar rhythms are a comfort and a friend. His profession is a way of life. His work, a kind of religion. And his office is a cathedral.
Journalist John Luciew documents one year on a family farm. The result is an indelible, Rockwellian portrait of American agriculture as it used to be, as it still is, and as it might never be again. Don’t miss The Last Farmer. It’s an ode to the heartland, a tribute to true Americans and a prayer for the future that family farmers might still be around to feed a hungry world.
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Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940014869003 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Capital City Books |
| Publication date: | 04/28/2012 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 75 KB |
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