Who gets the money?

More questions that people ask us:
How bad a crisis is this really? It is estimated that since January of 2009, we dairy farmers were losing an estimated $100 per cow per month. Our calculations verify this. How long would you/could you run a business this way?
Let's take the gallon of milk I buy in the store, how much are you, the average farmer receiving for that gallon of milk? Let's take 2008, when there was a shortage of milk in this country. You paid $4 for a gallon of milk in the store. We, the dairy farmer got $2. The $2 we received was hardly covering our costs, because fuel and fertilizer costs went so high.
Who got the other $2 of the product you produced? The processor and the retailer got the other $2.
Then let's take the recent price that I pay in 2009 of $3 a gallon in the store, how much do you, the dairy farmer, receive? All this past year we have received about $1 of the gallon sold to you in the store.
If you only get $1 of the $3 that I am paying for a gallon of milk, who gets the other $2? The processor and the retailer get the $2, the same as the year before.
And how much does it cost you to produce that gallon of milk? It cost us, the dairy farmer, about $1.50 in 2009 to produce a gallon of milk.
Wait a minute, you mean the processor and the retailer are still getting the $2 for that gallon of milk both in 2008 and 2009, while you the dairy farmer, are receiving a $1 less this last year? That's correct. Notice, I did not say that it is 'right'.

Where is the media????

The following will be answers to questions that people frequently pose to us:
Have we really heard much about this dairy crisis? No. Many dairy farmers in America are being forced out of business and the math is simple to calculate that this will continue at an alarming rate: the price we receive for our product is far below what it costs to produce. Our agricultural and polical leaders must understand the full gravity and ramifications of our dilemma, as must the general public. If we, like many others, are forced to close our barns, we do not want these people to respond with: "I did not know...", "I was not aware of how bad it was...", "We did not realize...." This year, as we talked with our friends, both locally and out-of-state, most of them were totally surprised by our situation. The media has just not covered this.
What is the problem that the American Dairy Farmer is facing? We have been facing the same frustrations for years: we cannot control the cost of our rising expenses and we cannot set the price for the product we sell. We have absolutely no control over the price we are paid for our milk. Besides this double-edged sword, both these prices vary, sometimes dramatically, from month to month and year to year. The current, dramatic downturn in the global economy has only exasperated this half-a-decade old problem.

$40 for a gallon of milk?

Confession #5 - Two acquaintances I saw in the same day recently, actually summed up this blog quite uniquely:
What did happen in 2008 and 2009? The downturn in the world economy hit the US dairy farmers quite harshly. In my book-keeping, I had concluded it actually started before that.
In my brief encounter with the man who prepares the taxes for our farm business, we discussed the economy. He clearly validated my observations when he soberly reported, "I prepare the taxes for many farmers in the area, and it has not been good for five years"!
The other gentleman I met a short time later, told how he jogs on the edge of town very early most mornings. As he ran near the local grounds when the fair was in town, he realized that as most of the town was still opening their eyes, the dairy people had to be up diligently milking their cows. Even the hog, sheep and horse owners at the fair, could sleep later. His conclusion to me, "Dairy farmers ought to get $40 a gallon for their milk!"

Confessions of a Farm Wife

Confession #4 - About the years that the 'town family' moved to our farming area, we were at our annual visit to my Grandparents, which is when we, the 'farm people', tasted life in the city for a few weeks. Dad could only get a weeks vacation from making hay and milking cows, so he drove our family the full two days and deposited us to our Grandparents' home. Our Grandma got very, very carsick and could barely tolerate a ride to a park for picnic, let alone another trip to our place; once was it. So Mom and we kids stayed at the Grandparents for 3 weeks every summer.
The biggest difference I noticed about living in the city was how close kids lived to each other. In contrast, the nearest a kid my age lived was at least a mile in any of four directions from our farm. My cousin was one of them and when our parents didn't drive us back and forth, we rode our bikes. We even had our designated 'half-way mark', where we loyally accompanied the other one and then split to go home. We never let the other one ride all that way alone. Not worried about perverts back then, we were just were true friends.
This supposed 'isolation' during my childhood was deepened by our phone system. This cousin and all but one of my school mates were long distance calls. I probably called my cousin less than 5 times all during my growing up years!
So, while eating lunch at Grandma's it was unsettling to have the neighbor boy, just a year younger and sometimes rather pesky, paste his face against her kitchen screen door. Mom would ask what he wanted, and he wanted to know when I could 'come out and play'. Some days I didn't want to 'come out and play' with him, but he was already posted at the door, awaiting my exit. That never happened back at my house on the farm; we could carefully chose our playmates.
But those weeks in the city offered new adventures: real sidewalks that even went to the back door beckoning for bikes and roller skates, mysterious back alleys, the downtown ice cream parlor, and best of all was the mom & pop grocery store every couple of blocks. Ours was just a half- block walk away! Pure joy was a 2 minute hop on a sweltering August afternoon! And Mom often gave the ok. There developed my life-long fondness for orange sherbert push-up bars and ice cream sandwiches.
Still, I was always ready to go back home, ride my bike with my cousin on our rough gravel roads, and years later found myself happily, settled back on a dairy farm. But then came the years 2008 and 2009.

Confessions of a Farm Wife

Confession #3 - One of the things I love most about being the wife of a farmer.....is being sexually harassed by my boss in the office. :)
Some of the rainy hours and cold days bring my husband inside longer, so we can sip coffee together and tackle those piles in the office, which grow for months as the corn is growing and my husband is busy in the fields.
I love the fresh cream for my coffee, risen to the top of our jug of raw, unadulterated milk which is neither homogenized or pasteurized.
No dull moments here with my husband bopping in and out of the house during the day. I feel badly for my friends who never see their husbands from a.m. to p.m. For some of those friends, returning to work when the kids got older brought them sanity, just to see people.
After spending part of my life in a city apartment with a brick wall 3 feet away, I gratefully look out my windows and see fields and trees and cows, sunrises and the coming rain clouds. Long and peaceful walks on our property with my dog refresh me body, soul, spirit and mind.
I love the immense benefits of a childhood on a farm, as we experienced and now give to our children. We have swims in the ponds, sledding down the hills, hayrides and bonfires, and massive fields for football games with the neighbor kids. Potential trouble always had a corresponding potential chore....
At the end of the day, I love snuggling by my husband who usually sleeps soundly within a few minutes, the problems of today and tomorrow pushed aside, as his tired body rests from all the physical work.
And then came the years 2008 and 2009.

Confessions of a Farm Wife

Confession #2 - I confess, which probably seems rather ironic, that though I am the wife of a dairy farmer, I would NEVER, EVER want to 'be' a dairy farmer; I wouldn't qualify very well.
Helpful job descriptions for this all-weather, dairy farming occupation include the following:
- feet which survive on cold cement & do not require socks at night 9 months of the year
- hands which do not get rough in in cold water or on a quick run without gloves to the mailbox
- bladder which does not interrupt most tasks
- can function on less than average number of hours of sleep
- body fights off colds and flu well and keeps going like the energizer bunny
- mind that reads and comprehends complicated, official documents
- brain that retains a multitude of info on updated topics
- faith and calmness to be able to pay large and looming bills
- and most of all, hair that doesn't wash out the colored roots on each return from the barn!
But I do LOVE many things about "being" the wife of a farmer.....but then came the years 2008 and 2009.

Confession #1 of a Farm Wife

Confession #1 - This farm wife recalls when the 'town family' moved out near our farm, which I confess initiated my first, cognizant, naive moments that other people lived quite differently than all we dairy farmers. Despite being a 'townie', the girl who joined my 4th grade class relished playing back at our creek and the friendship began.
Then came the invitation from this 'town girl' for me to spend the Sunday with her family as they visited relatives, back in town, of course.
Sundays, by default, had become my designated 'homework day', beginning as late in the afternoon as possible...so unlike my older brother who finished his homework every Friday afternoon, long before he headed out for the 6 p.m. milking.
Hours kept disappearing that Sunday afternoon with my new 'town' friend and the 'town people' as these carefree adults visited on. The sky darkened and a slow anxiety crept further through my being: my stack of homework awaiting me seemed to grow as the evening continued!
In vivid contrast, routine and reliability dictated our family, Sunday afternoon ritual: we ALWAYS headed home in time for 6 p.m. milking...and in plenty of time to do my homework.
Security: I realized on that Sunday together, that the poor 'town girl' was somehow denied some of this humble security enveloping my childhood.
Most of my days and years include good routine and security, intertwined with unique adventures.
Then came the years 2008 and 2009.