At The Farm Gate: Farmers Bond with their Lunch Box
By Joanie Stiers
Always take your lunch box along. Accept the statement as words of wisdom or a standing joke among the farm crew.
On a good planting or harvest day, farmers intend to camp out in a single piece of equipment – just a guy or gal and their lunch box in the tractor, combine, semi or sprayer.
But the day quickly goes awry when you dismount the tractor to help with a breakdown, jump in the service truck to grab supplies at the home farm or drive another truck to fetch a part in town. Soon, you’re thirsty, hungry and two vehicles removed from your afternoon snack and Cherry Coke Zero.
The lunch box provides comfort and routine. Its caloric content caters to our personal cravings and delivers physical fuel for the body, emotional therapy for the mind and small moments of peace in a 14-hour workday.
My teenage son says, “It’s a good day when a lunch box is involved.” The insulated cooler signals cab time and farming the land with his favorite snacks and a sweet tea.
I look forward to the lunch box rituals in the field, starting with yogurt and berries for breakfast. Lunch comes out about 11 a.m. or when field conditions allow, providing another hashmark in the timeline of a long day.
Strangely, I like traditional hot foods served cold, including homemade meatloaf or 4-H barbecue with no bun – all at the temperature of a lunchbox lined with ice packs.
While previously limited to handheld foods, today’s auto-guidance permits spoons and forks. I enjoy the calm pace of soybean fields with long, back-and-forth passes.
Satellites steer the tractor hands-free so I can fork my food while watching the machine’s performance. In contrast, odd-shaped fields with lots of turning, stopping and starting keep my lunchbox lid largely closed.
Homemade trail mix ranks an afternoon highlight. Popcorn keeps me alert a kernel at a time. Miniature chocolate bars satisfy sweet cravings, but not quite like my grandpa’s treats did. All the grandkids wanted to ride with him and raid his lunch box for a piece of strawberry licorice.
Grandpa called his lunch box a dinner pail, a nod to dinner as the noon meal in farm country. For most of the world, dinner means supper time, and that’s when Mom is the hero. She delivers a hot meal, homemade dessert and drinks to the field as the contents of the lunch box dwindle.