PIGS & BELONGING [Su, 7-6-25]

BEYOND WINTER: The Irrelevant Pigs of an Old Man—PIGS & BELONGING [Su, 7-6-25]

 

The Gibson County Fair is July 6-12 this year. Fair time always reminds me of Sadie.

I was a Cub Scout in Indianapolis, but not for long, just a year or so before we moved to the farm near Oakland City, when I was ten. There were probably Cub Scouts in Oakland City, but we lived three miles outside of town, and didn’t have a car, so that was the end of my Scouting career. I like uniforms, and I missed wearing my Cub Scout beanie and neckerchief

However, the Forsythe Church community, where we lived, had 4H. No uniforms, but you could put that four-leaf-clover logo on anything you wanted. All you really needed for 4H was a pig.

At least, that’s what Uncle Ted thought, so he bought me a cute little Hampshire piglet. I named her Sadie, probably after Sadie Hawkins, of the Little Abner comic strip. Barbara Streisand had not yet sung, “Sadie, Sadie, married lady,” but if I had heard it, I would have sung, “Sadie, Sadie, you ain’t no lady.”

 

Sadie was the world’s least cooperative pig. She didn’t like being a pig at all. I borrowed Uncle Ted’s cane to direct her around the show ring at the Gibson County fair. Didn’t do a bit of good. She went anyplace she wanted. We didn’t get a blue ribbon. Or red. Or yellow. If they’d had a puce ribbon…I’m not sure they would have awarded even that to us.

It wasn’t just me or the fair judges. Sadie didn’t cooperate with anybody, including her own offspring. When it came time for them to be born, Sadie got her back end up against the barn side so they couldn’t come out. Daddy and I had to keep dragging her away from that wall.

 

Once born, she wanted nothing to do with them, including nursing. When she saw them coming, she would run away, down to the pond lot. They would chase her, going wee-wee-wee-wee, all the way. They’d catch up, and she’d spread her legs and brace herself so they couldn’t get at her. They’d all get on one side and push until their sheer numbers—about a dozen—would overcome her resistance. They’d all jump in and get some dinner and she would grunt and try to ignore them. Until the next time they wanted to eat. They the same scenario would play out.

In addition to Sadie, I also exhibited carrots at the fair. They looked like octopuses. They won a yellow ribbon, which was pretty much like a participation prize. I just didn’t have the right color thumb for being a farm boy, which I guess was blue, since that was the color ribbon the good 4H kids got.

I would have liked blue ribbons, but what I really cared about was being included. That was my blue ribbon—just being a part of things.

I related better to people than to pigs and vegetables. I was elected president of The Lucky 13 4H Club and quickly grew it out of its name. I liked being included so much that I wanted everybody else to be included, too. Any kid I saw, I invited them to join up.

That club won a lot of blue ribbons at the fair. None of them were mine. But that was okay. No blue ribbons. No uniform. But, I belonged. You don’t have to be able to control pigs or grow carrots to be included.

John Robert McFarland