Everyone’s upbringing is different, and I was fortunate to grow up on a dairy farm—a blank canvas for childhood, where I could dream and create with real things.

My days were filled with full conversations with cows, chasing cats, and playing in a massive playground made of farm toys. Endless games of hide-and-seek in the hay bales with my cousins shaped my early years, and as I grew older, so did my responsibilities. Feeding the calves became part of my routine, along with learning to tie a slip-knot and hoping for the chance to drive the smallest tractor in the biggest field.

There was no GPS then; instead, I learned to align the tractor by sight, using the exhaust pipe and a fence post at the end of the field as guides. The farm taught me how to make a straight row—a skill that became a metaphor for walking a straight path in life. Eventually, I picked up a chainsaw or grinder, tools that required both strength and intelligence to avoid the dangers of kickback. Safety equipment became essential, reinforced by the stories and near-misses shared within the farming community.

Balancing high school, homework, and farm chores, life inevitably led me to choose a career path. Agriculture was all I knew, so the choice felt simple—though I didn’t fully understand the financial risks and personal sacrifices at the time. As the third generation on the family farm, I never quite grasped why Mémé always said, “Don’t farm.” Now, I understand.

College became the next step, with a focus on farm business management. My dreams evolved into plans, and along the way, I learned many lessons—the most important being how to add value to a primary product. From that point on, I set out to leave a lasting legacy for my community.