Blog > Farming With Debt, I asked and old timer
I Asked an Old Timer About Debt.
Here's his short story.
He chuckled a little when I said the word. Not because it was funny, but because it was familiar. Like talking about weather or fence posts. Just part of the job.
He told me he’d been borrowing money since the beginning. Said he didn’t know many farmers who hadn’t. If you wanted land, cattle, or a chance to grow, you signed notes and hoped the year would meet you halfway. Debt wasn’t a season. It was something that ran alongside everything else.
He said there were years when it worked. Crops came off right. Calves sold strong. You’d look at the books and feel lighter for a while. Those were the years you caught up, fixed what had been limping along, and slept a little better.
Then there were years when nothing lined up.
A dry summer. Markets that dropped just when you needed them not to. He said those years taught you how thin the margin really was. How quickly confidence could turn into worry. You learned to recognize the sound of the house at night because you were awake enough to hear it.
What surprised me was how calmly he talked about it.
He said debt didn’t scare him as much as pretending it wasn’t there. The real danger, he said, was lying to yourself. Thinking next year would fix everything. Borrowing on hope instead of reality.
So I asked him what advice he’d give to someone starting out today.
He didn’t answer right away.
He said, “Borrow slower than you think you should.”
He said to leave room. Room for bad weather. Room for bad markets. Room for mistakes you don’t see coming. He said a young farmer should learn how to run lean before learning how to grow big. And never assume the good years will carry you forever.
Then he added something I didn’t expect.
He said the best advice he could give had nothing to do with money.
“Don’t let the debt take the joy,” he said.
He told me he’d seen good farmers lose themselves chasing numbers. Miss ball games. Skip Sunday dinners. Carry stress so long it started to feel like part of their personality. He said farming was hard enough without letting worry steal what little good it gave back.
I asked him if he’d do it again.
His answer was a quick, “Yes.”
“But I’d worry less. And I’d pay more attention to the years that went right.”
That wasn’t the ending I expected.
I thought he’d talk about freedom. Or being debt free. Or finally catching up.
Instead, he talked about memory.
Because when it’s all said and done, the notes get paid or they don’t. The markets rise and fall. The numbers blur together.
But the years you remember aren’t the ones on paper.
They’re the ones where, somehow, you made it through.
Dennis Prussman,
Premier Land & Auction Group
Real Broker, LLC,