What Happens to your Farm?

Keep in mind, we can help with farms too.  I bet you might not think someone like me would be able to say this, but I come from a long line of farmers.  Started in the 1920's when my great grandfather came over from Austria-Hungary (now Ukraine) and went to Detroit, then moved back to western New York.  He bought a farm and over the next 100 years, the Sodoma family turned it into one of the biggest in the state.  My grandfather and his two brothers grew up there, and my dad and his three brothers grew up there.  My dad's cousin lives there now, and farms with his son.  While I never worked there, and certainly grew up in an different setting, I have been around farms my whole life.  Many friends from high school were either from farm families or ranch families.  If you have questions about your farm and how it will be taken care of after you pass from the scene, give me a call.  

I liked this song as soon as it came out.  I can picture many of my relatives thinking the same things over the last 100 years as they worked the land around them.  

"Dirt" by Florida Georgia Line 
You get your hands in it
Plant your roots in it
Dusty headlights dance with your boots in it. Dirt.

You write your name on it
Spin your tires on it
Build your cornfield, whiskey
Bonfires on it. Dirt
You bet your life on it

It's that old shade red rust clay you grew up on
That plowed up ground that your dad damned his luck on
That post game party field you circle up on
And when it rains you get stuck on

Drift a cloud back behind county roads that you run up
And mud on her jeans that she peeled off and hung up
Her blue eyed summer time smile looks so good that it hurts
Makes you wanna build a 10 percent down
White picket fence house on this dirt

You've mixed some sweat with it
Taken a shovel to it
You've stuck some crosses and some painted
Goal posts through it. Dirt

You know you came from it. Dirt
And some day you'll return to

This elm shade red rust clay you grew up on
That plowed up ground that your dad damned his luck on
That post game party field you circle up on
And when it rains you get stuck on

Drift a cloud back behind county roads that you run up
And mud on her jeans that she peeled off and hung up
Her blue eyed summer time smile looks so good that it hurts
Makes you wanna build a 10 percent down
White picket fence house on this dirt

You know you came from it. Dirt
And some day you'll return to

This elm shade red rust clay you grew up on
That plowed up ground that your dad damned his luck on
That post game party field you circle up on
And when it rains you get stuck on

Drift a cloud back behind county roads that you run up
And mud on her jeans that she peeled off and hung up
Her blue eyed summer time smile looks so good that it hurts
Makes you wanna build a 10 percent down
White picket fence house on this dirt@

Makes you wanna build a 10 percent down
White picket fence house on this dirt
You know you came from it
And some day you'll return to it
Writer(s): RODNEY CLAWSON, CHRISTOPHER TOMPKINS