And then again, maybe it is!

Farmers are frequently exposed to long periods of dust from plowing, weeding, fertilizing, and spraying - and farmers tend to burn more to clear land of unwanted growth. When you add in the pesticides and chemical fertilizers of non-organic farm farmers, it is not hard to make a guess as to where the problem likely comes from.

I'll take organic farming and a dust mask in the clean country air with flouride free water and compare disease rates all day long to those living in toxic urban environments.

Speaking of farm life . . .

I love the country—and there has always been more than a little country in this city boy. Much of that comes from childhood days spent on my maternal grandparents farm. Lots of memories . . .

The notorious outdoor toilets (half-moon on the door, lime beneath the two holes in the wooden bench, bumblebees buzzing about and making for a wary time), riding on my grandfather's Farmall and John Deere Tractors, walking down rows of cotton plants and filling a "tow-sack" with fluffy white cotton, going to the cotton gin and marveling at the noisy and powerful machinery that separated the cotton from the seeds and compressed it into bales. Fishing for "craw-daddies" with a piece of cotton string, a slice of bacon and a rock weight . . .

Walking barefooted on a dirt road on a hot summer day when the air was so still that small puffs of dust lingered along the trail of your passing footsteps. Watching the shimmering waves of summer heat rise above fields parched golden, listening to the brittle sound of grasshoppers flitting to and fro in the roadside Johnson grass, and then later, in the evenings, being serenaded by the never-ending evening symphony of cicadas (referred to as "locusts" by the local folks). Chasing fireflies in the dusk across the front lawn. Cooling off in the hot afternoons with a drink of magical elixir known as "well-water" drawn up in a pail by a rope and pulley and dipped out in a tin ladle . . .

Making home-made ice-cream from fresh cream and just-picked eggs and hand-cranking away forever on a sturdy oak container filled with ice and rock salt. Then, by the time the ice cream had finally “set”, being so anxious that you ended up eating too much too fast and got aching "brain chills" one after another!

Swinging leisurely on the porch swing, sleeping and sinking in beds with feather mattresses and feather pillows and home-made quilts. Playing with a menagerie of pets that included baby rabbits, ground squirrels, horny toads, lizards and more. Getting to ride ponies - and later, HORSES! - and marveling at (and being a little afraid of) the powerfully muscled and beautiful animal beneath you . . .

You know, I wouldn't trade those days for all the computer games, Cell Phone s and 200 channel satellite TV's in the world!

DQ