• Suns Up Fatty

    Suns Up Fatty

    A long time ago I read and was heavily influenced by Seth Godin’s book “The Dip.”

    Google AI summarizes it like this:

    “The Dip by Seth Godin is a short business book that argues winners are often the best quitters, teaching readers to distinguish between a “Dip” (a temporary, worthwhile struggle) and a “Cul-de-Sac” (a dead end) to achieve success. The core idea is that every new venture gets hard, and the key to success is having the discipline to quit the wrong things and the persistence to push through the right ones to become the best in your field.

    For me, identifying dips vs. cul-de-sacs is found in the data. “Does the math, math?”

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  • Learning to Love our Wood Stove

    Learning to Love our Wood Stove

    I’ll admit it. I didn’t want to get a wood stove to heat our house.

    I grew up with gas forced heat furnaces. You go to the thermostat, you set a temperature, you buy a new filter every couple of months, that’s heat.

    So when we moved here our house came with minisplits in every room, an ancient gravity based propane furnace, and a big old fireplace.

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  • The Unraveling of College Athletics

    The Unraveling of College Athletics

    College sports fans might be too close to notice it but the world of college athletics seems to be coming apart at the seams.

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  • Putting Guardrails on AI

    It’s the lack of guardrails that is concerning.

    I don’t care if AI is giving me better search results or drafting some email content or even helps with customer service chats or meal planning or whatever.

    AI is really cool. It does offer some great advantages. But we’re going to need some guidelines and laws governing what we can and cannot do with it.

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  • Thank You Geneva Center

    Thank You Geneva Center

    Last year my high school closed it’s doors.

    This year the presbytery sold off my childhood summer camp.

    Yesterday was the final celebration of that work, culminating 60 years of welcoming kids from all over northern Indiana for a week of crafts, games, swimming, and hand-churned ice cream.

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  • Lightning, Fire, and Grazing

    Lightning, Fire, and Grazing

    “Feels very fire-y out. Windy, hot, lightning.” 

    Sent that text to Kristen as I made my way out for deliveries yesterday. Driving north on the 49 the big, tall van was getting blown around. 

    A line of thunderstorms ran just west and north of us off and on all day. Some areas got flash flooding while others were spared the floods but speared by lightning. 

    Dozens of spot fires took off in nearby towns like Raymond, Catheys Valley, Hornitos, and further to the north along Highway 120. The grasslands dried out in May and by early September what grass the cattle haven’t eaten is so crisp it breaks when you step on it. 

    It’s really dry right now. Really dangerous. 

    It sounds like the historic town of China Camp, about 50 miles north of us, took heavy damage. 

    Around our immediate area we are rattled, but fine. Later in the day a wind came through with gusts north of 30 MPH. Just a spark and we are cooked. 

    There’s irony in it all. 

    While the country is feeling the effects of the highest beef prices ever, fires leave cattle running for their lives. 

    We need more cattle, sheep, and goats grazing in the foothills to help mitigate the impact of a more volitile, changing climate. Not just in the grassier areas— everywhere. 

    But as herds head to the market the cattle families are asking themselves… do we cash out and retire? Or do we reinvest and buy the most expensive calves in history? It’s a fair question because by the time these replacements are ready the market might dip so much they’d lose money. 

    Imagine yourself as a local cattle ranching family. They’ve never taken money out of their ranch, just reinvested earnings to keep growing the herd and pay their bills. But with high prices and kids getting ready for college? It’s tempting to cash out, lock in the future, and wait for the dip. You’re torn by this because you want to serve the community you love, as well. But…

    When things are as uncertain as they are right now? Certainty is awful tempting.

    Early yesterday morning, before all of this happened, I sent an email to our Sierra National Forest team asking about our own grazing project. Why? Because winter is looming and I need to know: Am I buying to increase my herd, selling to reduce, or just breeding? 

    We’ve been in a holding pattern for months but I am at the point where it’s critical to have an answer. 

    I’m under no delusion, one day the dry lightning is coming for us, too. 

    We’d like our goats to be part of preventing a disaster but the land next to us doesn’t belong to us… so we are stuck waiting for permission. 

    Will it come in time? I have no idea. 

    Fingers crossed today is cooler, less windy, and those fleets of firefighters and bulldozers are able to contain that spectacle of fires. And fingers crossed I get a call from North Fork with the go ahead.

  • Why the County Fair Matters

    Why the County Fair Matters

    In sociological terms a “public” is a place where a local society meets or hangs out. It’s where you catch up with friends, meet new people, relax, conduct business, develop friendships, or simply be.

    In a sense these are usually “public spaces” but it doesn’t have to be publicly-owned spot. Back in the late 80s a “public” in the small town I grew around in Indiana might be the parking lot of a McDonald’s along McKinley or the USA Roller Rink or in the early 90s it would be cruising the mall, slow walking a Saturday night in hopes you might get invited to a party or be there when the fight happens, sipping on an Orange Julius or sneaking a peak into Victorias Secret.

    Social media has brought about the erosion of publics. People don’t hang out in person quite like they used to because apps have taken the local public from the coffee shop to your pocket. But, as we’ve learned, a digital public can be dangerous… they can accidentally turn into echo chambers. But we all know enatelt that there’s nothing quite like sitting around and chewing the fat with people in real life.

    In a small town like Mariposa the county fair is one of our main publics. It’s 4 days of pageantry, intrigue, and drama by which the social calendar of our 18,000 residents revolve. Whereas, in the Upper Midwest kids might get the opening day of deer season off from school, here you get the opening day of the fair off and if you don’t make it to school on Thursday the attendance office doesn’t seem to notice.

    Everyone knows Saturday night is the derby and Sunday is the livestock auction right before the rodeo. Even if you don’t go to any of it you know the whole world around here revolves around these 4 days.

    For kids, it’s “what are you showing this year?” Not “are you going to the fair?” It might only be 150 out of all the kids in the county but it sure feels like everyone.

    If you’re a city or suburban dweller you might not even know things like 4-H or FFA still exist. But around here? They are the lifeblood that makes the county fair a public. These programs have more members than all the churches combined. Our town loves youth sports but even the sports teams know better than to mess with the fair.

    I’m enjoying the fair. It’s the break I need at the end of a long, hot summer. It’s exhausting. But it also fills my tank. One full day left for me then back to harvesting on Monday for the week to come.

    Fair is important. And we like participating in our small ways.

    Jackson did much better this year than last. He’ll always be remembered in the rabbit group as the kid who showed his rabbit covered in blood because it ripped a toe nail out on the way into the ring.

    But I hope the core memory he’ll have from this week is the improvement he made showing his goat. He was first out last year in both market and showmanship, a source of a year’s frustration and embarrassment as his friends saw him place last. This year he moved up a division and finished 4th out of 15 in showmanship and 3rd in his group for market goats with the goat we bred.

    Tomorrow all attention will shift to the payoff, selling his goat to the highest bidder at the annual auction. It’s emotional for me to see the community rally and spend upwards of $500,000 on 160 fair project animals. And it’s especially emotional for me to see someone graciously overpay for a $300 goat to encourage my child’s interest in agriculture.

    Zooming out the lens, this is why it’s so important to invest in your communities public. I don’t know what it is where you live. But it’s there for you to find. And your life will be enriched when you join in.

    In Romeo it was Halloween and the Peach Festival. In Rolando it was the street fair and (RIP) the Boo Parade. Here? It’s the fair.

    Truly, I don’t think anyone who lives here would have it any other way. Even if they avoid going.

    Though, everyone should go to the derby once in their lives.

  • Free Puppies at Pioneer Market

    Free Puppies at Pioneer Market

    An older lady cut a long line at Pioneer saying “I’m a local, I can’t wait.” I did what any reasonable Mariposa man would do. I put one of those free parking lot puppies in her back seat. Good thing you’re local!

  • Christian Employment is Broken

    Christian Employment is Broken

    Over the last 4-5 years I’ve slowly been processing the abusive work relationships I had working in the Christian world. There’s no need to point to or call out one as it’s been a patten consistent for the entire time I was in from 2001 to 2022.

    Maybe it’s a pattern you’ll recognize in your own life, too? I dunno. But here goes.

    Outward Signs

    I knew things had become untenable and I couldn’t continue. It’s taken me some years to see that it was more than the outward things that led me out.

    On the surface I felt at the the rise of Trumpism, hatred towards outsiders, exploitation of the poor for personal profit, the persistent two-faced approach to the gay community, hatred of women as a whole, the death cult fetish with Israel– those things made it so I had to leave.

    That hasn’t always been there. But it started in the early 2000s and has gotten progressively worse.

    Those were outward things. I last attended a church service without getting paid around Easter 2017– I couldn’t take hearing one more “sermon” about the pastors surf buddies, scripture twisting, while ignoring the rising hatred of immigrants in our midst. It was too much.

    Dude spent a long time telling us where “regulars” had to park for Easter and I looked at Kristen and said, “That won’t be a problem. One less car for them to worry about. I’m not coming back.”

    I quickly learned I wasn’t the only “leader” who only went to church when there was a paycheck. In fact, I’d say that’s true of just about every “leader” I know. They are there when there’s a paycheck otherwise they don’t bother. They maintain a relationship with a home church that’s convenient to them but that’s usually to maintain a credential or something like that. Most of my friends working in churches will readily admit that they wouldn’t go to their church if they weren’t on staff.

    The truth is that the evangelical church as I knew it– as most of us in our prime years right now knew and gave our lives to– died in the mid-2000s. It’s just not the same and I don’t think it’s worth being around.

    Many of my friends feel trapped. They want out but they can’t find jobs where they’ll be treated as well or paid as well. So they stick around.

    That’s the outward stuff.

    Looking Inward

    Let’s talk about the inward stuff. These are things that I’ve realized while listening to audio book after audio book about farming or truths I’ve learned from hours of hearing pop songs in my headphones while pulling weeds.

    As time has gone on I can more clearly see the inward things were abusive and untenable, as well. Things that gnawed on me and made me realize I was part of something that wasn’t true to myself.

    I realized that many of the people I was consulting with and working with cared about my ideas, my ability to make money, my ability to build a community around an idea– but they didn’t care about me at all.

    Not one bit.

    That was proven when we lost Lilly and very, very few people I’ve worked with reached out. I called them and mourned with them when their dogs died but I lost a child and not even a card or text.

    To them, I was nothing more than a means to an end. I didn’t feel that way about our relationship but they did.

    In my roles I was expected to deep dive into their personal lives.

    Go to their homes, get to know their kids, remember their wedding anniversary, help them deal with everything in their personal lives, plan vacations, give them meaningful gifts, timely compliments and encouragement, on and on.

    My roles were never just about the work. It was always “doing life with” as well.

    But it was deeply one-sided.

    When I was “for them” (read: making them money and notoriety) they were all about Adam McLane. They couldn’t get enough of me. And I liked that reputation as the “get shit done” guy with so many orgs.

    But as soon as I shared things that I cared about or if I asked them to get to know my family, even remember my wife’s name, maybe drop by and share a meal– when I dared to prioritize living out my own faith in my community by getting involved– I was suddenly a liability.

    I spent decades in this cycle where when I was “for them” everything was great but if I tried to ask others to be “for me, too” I was out.

    That’s not what friendship, partnership, leadership, or doing life with someone is meant to be.

    When we lived in San Diego it would always shock me that people would come to town for vacation and not say anything to me. I’d fly to their ugly ass shithole town in the middle of winter, hang out with their family, meet them for a beer at their favorite spot. But when they came to my town? Nah, nothing.

    It’s taken me a long time to admit to myself that those people were never actually “for me”. They were never on my team, cared about me, anything… I was just a tool to them as they tried to build their empire exploiting the faith of others for personal gain.

    So, a few years back when I knew it was time to call it quits, I made an important distinction for going forward.

    I decided that my life, my values, my ideas, my potential, my kids, my wife, my heart— these things needed to be conditional.

    I’m fine working with or consulting with someone in a dispassionate way. That’s fine, let’s just keep it professional. I don’t want to know about your kids and I’m not going to talk about mine.

    My Path Forward

    When I think about the culture and business we’re creating now I’m aware that I will readily give of myself if it’s reciprocated but if it isn’t?

    Then you’re not for me. There are 6 billion people on our planet and not all of them have to be my friend.

    I hope this work I’ve been doing on myself changes my work/life relationships going forward. I don’t know that it will as old habits are hard to break. But I do think that by owning the reality that I put myself in an abusive pattern is part of breaking that pattern.

    As I think about the business we’re building right now and the people that are coming alongside of us to do it… I’m really conscious, maybe overly so, that I want to be genuine, that I want to truly share in both the heartaches and victories of it.

    I used to believe that bad shit happened to me for a greater purpose. I believed, and even wrote about on my blog, that it somehow made me better. I used to resonate deeply with the story of Joseph and his brothers in Genesis.

    But I don’t want to identify with that anymore because that’s not the relationship I want to have with people. I reject the version of a god told in the Joseph story, that he puts bad things in your way just to get your attention or help you find meaning through the chaos he created for you. That’s not love, that’s abuse. [Don’t even get me started on the paternal failure of the Prodigal Son story.]

    I don’t want to believe that all the bad things a person does to me is somehow for the greater good… I just don’t want bad things to happen to me in the first place!

  • Farm Failures and the Future

    Farm Failures and the Future

    This week I’ve been wrapping up 2024, catching up on bookkeeping and things like that as the spring 2025 nursery season will hit us just after New Year’s Day.

    I woke up with a mental list of my top farm failures of 2024. My mind quickly rattled off 10-12 of them and started sorting them into a top 5 list.

    While the coffee maker squeezed out a cup of joe I was forcing myself to make a list of things that were successful on the farm in 2024.

    And then I stopped in the kitchen, holding my cup of coffee, and zoomed out the lens.

    In the last 2 years, with no farming experience whatsoever, in a non-farming area, somewhere we didn’t know a soul when we arrived, not coming from a farming family or background, without outside investment– Kristen and I have built a freaking farm from the ground up out of nothing. We’re not there yet. But we’re on the right path.

    It’s easy for my mind to focus on the negative. I can’t tell you how many times this year I’ve looked at Kristen or Cody and said, “Well, that didn’t work.” Learning how to grow all of these different things, how to market our farm products, how to sell stuff… that’s full of failure.

    But the overarching thing is that we’re building a farm from scratch having no idea what we’re doing. It’s a heckuva thing.

    In 2005, I learned from the Google how to build what became YMX. In 2010, I remember turning to Google to learn how to turn a Word doc book manuscript into an actual book. So it’s no wonder that in 2024 we’re learning how to build this new business mostly from Google, YouTube, and failing our way forward.

    Yesterday, I was listening to a podcast about farming and the guy being interviewed was talking about how he wasn’t ready to jump into his farm full-time. He listed a whole bunch of money reasons why, how he didn’t want to risk his kids financial future, or his retirement, and how he hoped to go full-time on the farm once he’d secured all of his financial goals. To him, the risk was just too great and you could hear the subtext of not wanting to fail his kids.

    As I listened I thought… but what the hell are you teaching your kids? Those kids won’t care that dad has a fat retirement or that they’ve got a giant college savings if they saw their dad be a weenie to a job he didn’t like his whole dang life. Maybe what he needed to teach his kids is that it’s better to try and fail than it is to do the safe thing all the time? Had he considered that?

    I know I do. Yes, our kids might see their mom and dad fail at trying to start a farm in the middle of nowhere with no idea what they are doing. But I hope what they see is that their parents are willing to take big risks to lean into their dreams and passions, too. For me, that’s worth the risk.

    So yes, it’s easy for me to look back at 2024 and reflect on all of the failures, the things I want to do better in 2025. But I forced myself to make a list of successes in 2024, too.

    And it’s one heckuva list.