Blending Art and Agriculture
on Fathers Day
There is one huge reason so much of my identity is tied up in agriculture and the arts. This guy »
My dad is a lifelong dairyman, which is almost a redundant title. Most dairymen I’ve known will continue to milk cows like they’re 30 well into their 70s and 80s. The word “retire” is not in my dad’s vocabulary, which I simultaneously admire and lament.
Try telling a Dutch dairyman to slow down a little and see how that works out for you (spoiler: it won’t).
It’s true, many Dutch dairymen share many qualities, but no one is like my father. Easy for a daughter to say, but I’ll prove it.
Dairying is a calling. My dad was born into farming, but then continued to choose it over and over again even though he’s had plenty of other options throughout his life.
Because for as long as he’s known cows, he’s also known and loved the arts.
My dad could’ve had a career as a musician, but it wasn’t his vibe. He’s an incredible singer, and he’s the reason I love musical theatre, and had every word to The Producers memorized before I ever actually saw the musical. Same with Jersey Boys, which he’s probably seen just as many times as Bob Gaudio himself.
He’s an art history buff, and knows so much about different artists and movements, it’s hard to keep up. It feels like he’s using the same super-powered part of his brain that can spot a cow in need from a mile away, to immediately tell you a painting across the museum is a Vermeer.
His photographic eye has been complimented by some of the best photographers of all time, and he’s continually asked when he’ll let the world know how good he is. Maybe I’ll convince him to do a show in New York at some point…and yes, I do know he’s reading this, and I am pressuring him on a public platform, but only because I’m constantly in awe of his talent and I want everyone else to know too.
He has always encouraged me in all of my varying artistic endeavors (and if you know me at all, you know that list is long and varied).
He even willingly took a photo with me when I decided to be Dr. Phil for Halloween in 6th grade. Iconic.
This is what supporting the arts looks like.
He is full-time entrepreneur, businessman, and dairy farmer, and somehow manages to carve out time as a publisher, producer, photographer, writer, and my #1 fan (which is for sure another full-time job).
We are similar in many ways.
Because of this, we can tell each other the thing we know we sometimes need to hear ourselves. I show him the things he might not see, and he warns me of what I haven’t seen yet.
When to be careful, when to be adventurous.
When to hang on to something, when to let it go.
When to push yourself, when to relax.
Something he says a lot to me is “there are plenty of things to worry about, this is not one of them”. I’ve started saying it now, too. I’m learning from him constantly, even when he doesn’t know it.
I’ve talked a lot about how my mom influenced the heart of I’ll Have What Cheese Having, being the star of the first rom-com I was ever witness to.
What I haven’t talked about as much is how my dad taught me what it looks like to support the person you love when they aren’t in the room.
Almost every time it’s just the two of us alone, he says the words “your mother is extraordinary”.
Growing up in the 90’s, it was the height of “my nagging wife”-type comedy. So as a kid, I absorbed a lot of men talking poorly about their wives to be viewed as completely normal, and generally perceived as hilarious (as long as the wives weren’t around, which seemed to be preferable). But it was never funny to me?
Because at home I had the example of a man talk about how smart and talented and beautiful his wife was all the time when she wasn’t around. And my parents are very independent people, but I’ve never heard either of them say anything like “ugh finally” when the other left. I don’t know if he was intentionally teaching 8 year old me how I should be loved when I was older, but he did.
And that is pretty extraordinary. Just like him.
Next week we’ll have another cheese to try, a true story, an example of food in storytelling to chew on, and some extra goodies for paid subscribers.
Until next time,
Anne-Marie
🥹