A Farmer's Last Resort

           Fred Asher drummed his fingers on the desk while waiting for voicemail to connect him to Representative Delves.

           “Hello, I’m Angelica Janzen, assistant to Representative Delves.”

           Fifty-year-old Fred remembered when the representatives used to answer the phone themselves.

“I’m glad you called,” said Angelica in a friendly voice. “We want to know what you think and what we can do for you.”

           “Good. I want to complain about New Green Deal policies.” Fred controlled his voice, determined to stay calm.       

           “Why is that?”

           Fred pressed his hand on the desk for emphasis. “Taxes to finance the Deal and punishing farmers with high fuel costs is wrong.” Fred raised his voice. “And then forcing people to buy electric vehicles. I can’t afford to buy or to use EV trucks and equipment. And now this drought is going to bankrupt me.”

           “The drought is proof of climate change,” said Angelica. “Representative Delves has worked hard on the New Green Deal. The EVs and reducing our dependence on gasoline will be a step forward toward improving the weather.”

           “Are you serious? What am I supposed to do now? If the trucks and combine are electric, what will I do when I’m in the field when the battery dies? I can’t wait eight hours for each one to re-charge. Right now, I can fill up the gas tanks and keep going. I can’t wait. When the crop is ready, I need to harvest before it loses quality or rains.”

           “See? You are already expecting rain. The policies are working.

           Fred breathed out before speaking through his teeth. “Have you checked the price of new EV batteries?”

           “No sir, I’ve not needed one.”

           “If it’s not under warranty, it’s between $8,000 and $20,000. I have 2 tractors, a combine, a semi, and a 20-year-old farm truck. We’re talking serious money here.”

           A momentary silence followed before the assistant said, “I’m sure science and technology will bring prices down. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

           “Yes. I want the representative to vote against policies like the New Green Deal and against more taxes.”

           “I’ll take down your statement and pass it on to Representative Delves.”

           Fred ran his hand through his hair. “All that's left is for me to pray it doesn’t pass. And you can write that down too!” Fred slammed the cell phone against the desk.

           Hearing a knock, Fred swallowed hard to change his attitude before answering.

“Hey, Jeffrey,” said Fred. “How ya doing?”

           “Doing great.” Jeffrey, old enough to be Fred’s father although he wasn’t, looked around the room. “You said you wanted to show me something.” He looked back at Fred. “I don’t see anything new.”

           “You never lived on a farm, did you? I want to show you what drought does to a crop. I’ll drive you to the field.”

           The two men seated themselves in the old farm truck and drove to a soybean field a mile away.

           Fred pointed out tree leaves falling and dry grass in the ditches.

Jeffrey said, “I’ve heard we’re in a drought. Everything looks so, so… brown.”

           “Yep. We’ve had only a quarter inch of rain in the last four months. Weatherman says to expect another four months of dry weather, including no snow this winter.”

           “I never thought,” said the older man, “of how fortunate I am to just pay a little extra to water my lawn. It is like betting to depend on rain to earn a living.”

           “The two men stepped out of the truck to walk into the field.

“I can’t afford crop insurance,” said Fred. “That costs as much as I earn from my crops.” He waved an arm all around him. “Can you tell how bad it is? The drought makes my soybeans look like a miniature variety. Leaves are curled like shell macaroni, and there are only half as many pods per plant as there should be. Then he reached down and grabbed a handful of dirt to let it filter through his fingers, leaving large clods behind. “We. Need. Rain.”

Jeffrey shook his head and covered his mouth with his hand before letting it slide down and away. “Oh, wow! You’ll be hurting.”

           Fred screwed his mouth sideways. “I already am.”

“I know my taxes and gas prices have gone up… Tags. Taxes… I can’t even imagine how much gas you use.”

“Mowing, raking, baling, combining, semi to haul grain to market, farm truck for general purposes. Jeffrey, why are they doing this to us?”

The older man turned to face the farmer. “We can only guess at their reasoning.”

“I think it is probably greed and meanness. Let me tell you about calling Representative Delves.”

Jeffrey looked at his feet as Fred related his phone conversation. He looked back at the farmer. “Is there something specific you wanted from me?”

“Yes. Call Representative Delves and complain about everything, including forcing people to get EVs.”

“I can do that.” Jeffrey rubbed his chin while looking far away. “I’ve thought about calling him and a senator anyway.” He dropped his hand. “I think it will do more good to pray first. Come join our prayer group tonight. You already know most of the people who come.”

“Well, you’re an elder. You have to go.” Fred squirmed a little. “I’ve never done much praying.”

“Most people will show up around seven o’clock tonight for the prayer meeting. I would really enjoy you coming to pray.”

“I’m not sure I belong. I admit it. I started coming to church again because the rain quit… You mean they will pray for rain for me?”

“Yes. We take turns praying for our needs. Everyone will join you in praying for an end to the drought. If you don’t know what to say, just thank God for the good years you have had.”

Fred scratched his head. “Does the group meet in the church basement?”

“Yes.”

Fred looked down, then at his shriveled field. “I guess I don’t have much to lose… Are you sure it’s worth it?”

“Bible says, ‘The prayer of a righteous man availeth much’,” said Jeffrey. “Think what ten can do.”