Liberty Alerts, JBS.org Freedom Campaign
As many of us are off of work for Labor Day, it offers us a chance to reflect on the fruits of our labor, what we are working toward, what we hope to accomplish, and who we want with us on our journey. A World War II soldier did this in April 1945, four months before he was killed. The soldier wrote a poem and titled it “The War Weary Farmer.” We offer it to you here in hopes that you indeed take a little time this weekend to reflect on what is important.
The War Weary Farmer
I should like to find the existence of what my father called “Plain living and high thinking.”
I want some fields and hills, woodlands and streams I can call my own. I want to spend my strength in making fields green, and the cattle fat, so that I may give sustenance to my loved ones, and aid to those neighbors who suffer misfortune; I do not want a life of monotonous paper-shuffling or of trafficking with money-mad traders.
I only want enough of science to enable fruitful husbandry of the land with simple tools, a time for leisure, and the guarding of my family’s health. I do not care to be absorbed in the endless examining of force and space and matter, which I believe can only slowly lead to God.
I do not want a hectic hurrying from place to place on whizzing machines or busy streets. I do not want an elbowing through crowds of impatient strangers who have time neither to think their own thoughts nor to know real friendship. I want to live slowly, to relax with my family before a glowing fireplace, to welcome the visits of my neighbors, to worship God, to enjoy a book, to lie on a shaded grassy bank and watch the clouds sail across the blue.
I want to love a wife who prefers rural peace to urban excitement, one who would rather climb a hilltop to watch a sunset with me than to take a taxi to any Broadway play. I want a woman who is not afraid of bearing children, and who is able to rear them with a love for home and the soil, and the fear of God.
I want of government only protection against the violence and injustices of evil or selfish men.
I want to reach the sunset of life sound in body and mind, flanked by strong sons and grandsons, enjoying the friendship and respect of neighbors, surrounded by fertile fields and sleek cattle, and retaining my boyhood faith in Him who promised a life to come.
Where can I find this world? Would its anachronism doom it to ridicule or loneliness? Is there yet a place for such simple ways in my own America or must I seek a vale in Turkestan where peaceful flocks still graze the quiet hills?
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There are those that believe your writing will long outlive you provided someone gives it the light of day. Little did this soldier know that we would be sharing it with you, and little did he know that his actions, principles and dreams would be kept alive by the very organization that bears his name. You see, Captain John Birch penned that prose. And little did he know that Robert Welch would hold him up as the man Mr. Welch admired most of all.
Learn more about Capt. Birch and what you can do to keep America the bastion of freedom that previous generations fought so hard to establish and that future generations will come to appreciate.
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Used with the permission of the John Birch Society.
