Always Remember to Stand with the American Farmer
By Ron Rabou
In the dark of night, my eyes open unexpectedly, blinking quickly as I try to focus through the darkness.
I glance over, reach for the nightstand and place a finger on my phone. The screen lights up. It’s 3:12 a.m. Again.
“I’ve got to break this cycle,” I think to myself.
Yet, my mind sets off again. Immediately, I’m engulfed in a whirlwind of thoughts.
“The wind won’t stop blowing, and it hasn’t rained or snowed in months,” I think. “It’s not cold enough to kill the bugs. Is my stored grain safe? The wind is blowing so hard, and now the dirt is moving. Are the roofs okay? What about the grain bins? Do I have enough insurance to cover my losses if one collapses? What about all the equipment? I think we can make it one more year if we can hold down expenses.”
I go on, “Everything has just skyrocketed in price – parts, tires, steel, hoses, fuel, oils. If there’s a problem this year with a tractor or another piece of equipment, will there be enough revenue to pay for it? Hard to tell. I guess it depends if it rains – at all or at the right time. If the wind keeps blowing there’ll be nothing left in the subsoil. Is crop insurance enough to help us carry on if we can’t get a crop? The weather is causing our yields to slip nearly every year.
“Everything we gained in the good years, we’ve more than lost in the past few. Should I negotiate harder on my grain contracts and risk losing them? At least it’s something, even though we’ll still lose money,” I continue.
“I think I left the shop door open. Maybe I need to get up and go check,” I go on. “I’ve got to get financials together this week and prepare for the banker’s visit. How can I justify doing this again? How long will they allow us to continue to eat away our equity. Maybe it’s time to sell. I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to the kids. They love it here, and at least a couple of them want to eventually raise their families here. I’ve got to hold on. Things will get better, I hope. They have to, right? I’ll come up with something. I always do.”
I fold my hands and begin to pray, “Thank you, God, for blessing me with an amazing life. Grant me the wisdom to carry forward and to prosper what you have blessed me with and…”
Beep! Beep! Beep! I am awakened by the alarm clock. It’s 6 a.m.
Sighing, I think, “Dangit. I just got back to sleep. I’ve got to stop doing this.”
The plight of the American farmer is wrought with resiliency, stress, intense physical conditions, sleepless nights and uncontrollable circumstances.
Yet, despite facing daily challenges beyond their control and conditions which can rival insanity, they defy the odds and continue to produce the most abundant and safest food supply on planet earth.
Through it all, the resounding legacy of American farms lives on.
What other businesses can find a way to create multi-generational opportunities when the costs of doing business continue to escalate, all while revenue streams remain level or decline? A business where expenses necessary to produce are purchased at a retail level and goods are sold for wholesale prices. On top of that, the American farmer is stuck paying freight both ways.
It’s a business where millions of dollars are used to generate hope that the rain will come. It requires immense faith God will provide a growing season allowing for the proper conditions to exist.
It’s a business where faith is placed in a small seed with hope it will sprout and eventually grow to become an environmentally-vulnerable plant, and despite uncontrollable factors, the plant will be resilient enough to survive through drought, hail, wind, downpours and massively variant temperatures to produce more than it cost to grow it.
It’s an anomaly most cannot understand, and it’s a leap of faith, depth of trust and hope most cannot fathom to attempt.
A quote written in jest reads, “Farming: noun. The art of losing money while working 400 hours a month to feed people who think you are trying to kill them.”
It’s not far from the truth, except 400 hours is a little light for some months during planting and harvesting.
The fact of the matter is no one cares for their land, livestock, crops and resources more than the American production agriculturalist.
I know this because I too am a farmer. Our resources are all we have.
When I was young, my father told me over and again, “Son, if you take care of the ranch, it will take care of you.”
It’s true. When we rely on livestock, soil and the prosperity of our crops to satisfy our creditors and feed our families, the last thing we want to do is harm those resources in any way.
Furthermore, depleting those resources or adding unnecessary inputs or improper amounts of inputs, only harms our bottom line, and when the bottom line is most often razor thin and sometimes even negative, it would be completely senseless to make it worse.
In your own life, when was the last time you had to worry about food? When was the last time you went to the store or to a restaurant and there was no food?
I know prices have gone up, as many would proclaim. While this is true, the disparity between the cost of food to the consumer and the value of the product received by the farmer to produce the food only continues to widen.
In 1975, the value of wheat in a loaf of whole wheat bread was about 11 cents. In 2025, 50 years later, the value of wheat in the same loaf of bread is about 1.7 cents. The farmer takes what he is given, the middlemen take what they want and the consumer pays the price.
Remarkably, in the face of adversity, consumer chatter, environmental constraints, political whirlwinds and the exponential rise in the cost of inputs, equipment and land, the American farmer still stands.
To many, it makes no sense why they remain steadfast, committed to their work, their land and their country. To the farmer, it makes no sense to have it any other way.
The importance of consumer and legislative support for agriculture cannot be overstated, and our policies should always be a direct reflection of this support.
May we all, as American people, always remember to stand with the American farmer. After all, we meet him or her every day, at every meal.
The words of Paul Harvey strike at the heart of this massive, yet fragile industry known as agriculture, “And on the eighth day, God looked down on His planned paradise and said, ‘I need a caretaker,’ so God made a farmer.”
Ron Rabou is president of Rabou Farms, Inc. in southeastern Wyoming, a nationally known author, speaker and co-host of the nationally-syndicated podcast AgInspo. For more information, visit raboufarms.com.
