We’ve allowed activists and detractors to convince us that “factory” is a dirty word, and that makes me sad.
A factory is what allowed my grandpa to put food on the table for his family, to pay for Catholic school and college for six kids, and whose pension allows him to enjoy retirement with my grandmother. Was it hard work? Yes.
But my grandfather never complained – he was just happy to have a job. And in fact, it’s the devastation of the factory industry that has left small towns like Marinette in the dust: once booming hubs of industry, where I would spend the Fourth of July watching a parade down Main Street. Now I drive through only to see shuttered windows and “going out of business” signs.
I don’t want the same to happen to agriculture. We have to take back the negative connotations and embrace truth and transparency.
Factory is not a dirty word; neither is farmer.
P.S. And the next time you’re at the store, buy Scott Paper, and think of my Grandpa Richard.
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