Somebody took my tractor
By PAT WICK
© Another Day in the Country
A John Deere Tractor always has been a symbol of the country for me. From the day my dad refurbished an old John Deere, abandoned on some farm land he'd purchased, until the day we brought his current, almost new, tractor to Ramona, having a John Deere in the family meant we were almost farmers.
When we started putting up scarecrows in town, my sister said, "I've got an idea for a scarecrow at Mom's house. Let's put Dad's John Deere out there with our little toy John Deere tractor, a father and son scarecrow with a sign that says 'Boy's Toys.' What do you think of that?"
I thought it was a great idea, so we did it! I don't recall a moment's hesitation about putting that little toy tractor out for the public to enjoy. However, if I'd been living in Oakland or San Jose, I know that I never would have put a precious toy out in the front yard. But here we were in Ramona, a tiny town, where we trust our community so we didn't even chain it down or keep it near to the house.
And then somebody took that little tractor. It was Saturday, after Halloween pranks were over. My sister had taken Mom to church and I was at an auction with Triple T when I got the phone call. "Pat, did you move the little tractor? Someone took it," Jess said. "It's gone."
I sighed sadly, remembering the day we got that tractor a couple of years ago. We were in the feed store when we spied this little John Deere pedal tractor. And like two impetuous children we fell for it!
We actually drove away from the store that day and then turned around and went back and bought that toy (wishing we were small enough to ride it). We rationalized that we were investing in the future generations. I called my daughter in California and said, "Not meaning to apply pressure, but we just bought a John Deere toy tractor with a front loader. Some day when you have a child they can play on it when they come to Ramona." She laughed!
While we said that we had gotten the tractor for the future, down deep we'd gotten that John Deere tractor because of the past. It represented our love of the land, farming, grandparents, Dad, and all things country. And when someone took it, they took more than a toy. They attempted to seriously damage our trust and faith in country folk.
"I hate feeling suspicious of people," my sister mourned as she contemplated who would play such a prank. "I don't like thinking this way!"
"It can't be someone we know," I said mentally reviewing everyone who lived in Ramona, "and we know everyone in town." If we allowed fear and suspicion to take over, we'd lose a lot more than a $100 toy.
This morning, we sat at the kitchen table eating Danish that Marlene dropped by our door late last night after the restaurant closed. We found ourselves talking about the missing toy tractor, pondering the choices we made when we moved to Ramona. "Would we change our stance of how we lived because of the tractor disappearing?"
"We chose to come to a small town, an environment where you could know your neighbor and trust the community," Jess said. "If we wanted to live under lock and key, closed away, we could have moved to a city," I answered.
"We can't keep someone from driving into town and stealing, but we can decide how we let this effect us," we reasoned. And then reminded ourselves that "It's our intention to have a good life in the country, to trust our neighbors, and live in such a way that engenders good will."
It's another day in the country, and while my future grandchildren may not be riding around on that little John Deere, I smile knowing that eventually some child, somewhere, will be pleased.
