Harmon

I’ve been thinking about profit.

And Harmon Killebrew.

So, this summer Number Three has been helping around the farm quite a bit. He’s a good kid, but most of what he’s been doing is new to him, so there’s a learning curve. The other day we were wrapping up our buckthorn removal project, which meant picking up all the small sticks that got scattered over the driveways as the debris was carted off. My wife watched as I walked in front of the loader tractor picking up sticks and Number Three carefully drove the tractor, shifting down in gears as the afternoon wore on, and as I shifted down a few gears myself.

Later she asked me why I was walking and he was driving. She made the not unreasonable point that I am nearly 72 and he is 18, and in the walking and bending department, one of us is clearly superior.

The thing is that he already knows how to pick up sticks. The tractor has two gear shifts, a forward and reverse shuttle, a joystick for the loader, and half a dozen other controls. I have no idea if he’ll ever need to drive a tractor again, so this may well be a pointless skill to learn. On the other hand, knowing that he can learn to handle a complicated, expensive piece of equipment and be trusted to drive it and not run me over is a valuable lesson, and perhaps more important than getting the sticks picked up in the most profitable manner.

The job site is about to get even more complicated. Number Five has wrapped up his baseball season and is the only grandchild without anything to do, so next week he’s going on the payroll as well. I’ve spent most of the last twenty years working alone, so finding profitable endeavors for the two of them is going to be a bit of a challenge.

And that’s when Harmon Killebrew popped into my mind.

When I was young, Harmon Killebrew was a member of the Minnesota Twins. A clear memory of my youth is watching the Twins on TV with my dad. He enjoyed Harmon’s mammoth home runs and chuckled at the way he’d rapidly switch from his batting helmet to his baseball cap as he trotted to first base so his bald head was on display for the minimum amount of time. In 1984 he was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame and in his speech gave one of the great lines about raising boys, and deciding what matters and what doesn’t.

When he was young, his house was the place the neighborhood boys gathered to play ball, and his mother would despair at the damage a gaggle of teenage boys could do to a lawn. I can sympathize – teenage boys can create havoc. Harmon’s father had a different point of view. He would say, “Mother, we’re not raising grass, we’re raising boys.”

And there it is. If there is anything on this planet that needs more attention, it’s working on knowing the difference between what’s important and what isn’t. We get it wrong in almost every area of life and especially with the raising of children.

We should pay more attention to Harmon’s dad.

Copyright 2026 Brent Olson