I was blessed with a good dad. He was not a perfect dad, but he was a good one, and I know he gave his best. He passed away over 15 years ago after surviving the Great Depression, an all-expenses-paid trip to Europe during World War II and a life of farming and working a job in town.
He knew a lot and passed much on to me. I learned how to tune up and fix car engines (in the old days of dwell meters and timing lights), repair appliances, grow crops, construction and electrical wiring (it would never meet code today). He taught me a good work ethic, to be kind, to respect women and to help those less fortunate. I will always be in debt to him. He loved the woman I picked for my wife, and she could always tell. He loved my three kids, and, in their minds, he was iconic.
My dad embraced the skills and knowledge that he learned growing up during the Depression. Most of his farming knowledge came from his dad, not formal education. He focused on the indigenous knowledge his farming community used. This knowledge, handed down through the generations, had value.
However, as technology became more common, new high-yielding varieties were available and new pesticides and fertilizers came to market, this “old” knowledge had less value. That was hard for him to accept. I remember during my freshman year at Purdue, I came home and told him one of my professors had indicated that a practice we used was reducing our yields. Dad said, “I don’t suppose that professor was wearing a tie, was he?” His point was that someone who didn’t farm couldn’t know anything about farming.
I’m over 70, my kids are all adults, and I have precious grandchildren. I don’t live on a farm, but I have a shed full of memories. My most valuable one is a restored1962 Farmall. That was “my tractor” when I was a young boy. Sometimes when I drive it, I swear I see my dad with his big, toothless smile, standing off in the trees. I look around in the shed, and there are old chain saws, old hand tools, hoes, shovels, pitchforks, splitting mauls, jacks, bolt cutters, chains and much more. Few of these do I ever need on my acre lot in the suburbs.
Why do I still have them? They have sentimental value. Every now and then, if I am working at one of my kids’ houses, I will pull out a tool they’ve never seen before. They always say, “Dad, how do you know how to use that?” The answer is always the same: “Your Papa taught me.” But occasionally, when I am working on my lawn, I realize I am doing some things in an “old-school” manner. There is a better way now, new technology, new products, new tools, but I find myself doing it the same way I did 40 or more years ago.
Not intentionally, mind you, but perhaps sentimentally, because I “escape” to what I remember as a simpler time, less stress, fewer things to worry about and peace of mind. Sometimes those escapes bring great comfort, for which we should never apologize.
We all have our comfort zones, and we work to stay in them. Many of you reading this have been in the golf business for a long time. We stood on the shoulders of giants who came before us. We developed our own way of doing things, and sometimes our egos got in the way of trying new things. Perhaps it was also something more powerful.
It was memories from the past, lessons learned, gratitude remembered and kind words of encouragement from mentors. Those were valuable lessons, and repeating those practices and principles can bring us peace of mind. Confidence based on memorable lessons from the past is powerful and part of who we are.
We have a responsibility to help the next generation. I fully realize that as I have gotten older, new technology is more challenging. However, we should not let our comfort zones hold us back in helping the next generation of superintendents take on new technology.
We need to mentor them on how to use technology to improve basic principles of turf management that we have practiced for decades. Everyone wins in that sort of situation. Science and technology are going to keep moving forward. We all have a role to play on the team.
Rick Brandenburg, Ph.D., is a turfgrass entomology professor at North Carolina State University in Raleigh, a post he’s held since 1985. The 30-year GCSAA member is also a frequent presenter for GCSAA, both in webinars and at the annual GCSAA Conference and Trade Show.