WISHEK, N.D. - Like most days, I was in a hurry. I had a limited amount of time and a 175-mile drive to Fargo ahead of me. Except for the occasional pheasants or deer, it was just me and the open road on Highway 30 in south-central North Dakota. Since I can drive 50 miles on this stretch of highway without seeing another vehicle, I had the Christmas music cranked to keep me company.
I popped over a hill and, much to my surprise, there was a herd of Red Angus cattle being pushed north ahead of me. A man on a four-wheeler, an aggressive but obedient cow dog and a woman with several young sidekicks in a pickup were working together to herd the cows.
There was no way I could drive around or through them on the two-lane highway. I had to slow down to a crawl and wait.
Rather than just wait it out as the cows sauntered along, I pulled closer to the herd to help keep them from darting off into ditches or pastures on either side of the highway.
Another pickup pulled up alongside me. The driver rolled down his window and asked if I was here to help. I replied no, I was trying to get to Fargo. He looked at me and said, "Oh hey. Are you Hunter's mom?"
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Hunter has been at college since early July. He's only been home once in five months. Thankfully, we see him often when we drive to Grand Forks for University of North Dakota football games, when I visit the Agweek office in Grand Forks or when we meet him at my parents' farm. I miss him terribly, though I don't tell him that too often because I know it's important for him to immerse himself in a new life chapter.
That fact I was asked if I was Hunter's mom in a cow-herding traffic jam reminded me why we choose to live in rural America and how that choice influences us to the core. As counterintuitive as it seems, wide open spaces have a way of encouraging us to slow down.
At Thanksgiving, Hunter and six fellow UND football players gathered at my parents' farm. Most of the boys are from the Milwaukee and Madison, Wis., areas, and one is from Denver, Colo. Metropolitan traffic jams are nothing new to them; in fact, they were passing around an aerial photo of Los Angeles I-5 congestion, bumper to bumper traffic with white headlights in one direction and red brake lights on the other side. I'm certain they've never experienced traffic coming to a halt because of a cattle drive, though.
After a Thanksgiving feast, the football players headed outside for tractor rides from my dad and country drives in the utility vehicle with Hunter. The next morning, they enjoyed hunting coyotes before heading back to Grand Forks for practice. The wide open spaces gave them an opportunity to slow down.
Lately, it's been easy to get caught up in the negativity that seems to overwhelm our communities, states and country. I challenge you to slow down, even if it's inconvenient, to appreciate where you're planted. Take time to enjoy a community Christmas program, even if you don't know anyone singing. The Salvation Army is always looking for bell ringers. Toys for Tots is taking donations. I'm sure there are numerous other ways you can slow down and lend a hand in your community.
There's no way you can attend every celebration during the Christmas season, but make time to slow down and enjoy just one or two. Invite a friend or neighbor to join you. Let's choose to focus on the goodness in our lives rather than the bad.
All it took was a 10-minute traffic jam - the best type of traffic jam - to refocus my thoughts on the goodness around me. I'll share more about the causes dear to my heart in my community and state in next week's column.
I've enjoyed hearing from many of you recently. Keep the feedback and comments coming, whether we agree or disagree.
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Editor's note: Pinke is the Agweek general manager and publisher. She can be reached at kpinke@agweek.com .
