Most of the trees had already shed their colorful leaves, but the fields along the road were still bright green. Blinding sunshine and the warm temperature of that afternoon gave the impression that our lovely fall weather would last forever. As we drove past a well-cared-for farmyard, we were hit with the distinct, strong smell of cow manure. Out of habit, I cheerfully announced, “I smell money!”
My daughter Tammie, who was driving the car, laughed.
I chuckled, remembering how often I said that phrase when I took my daughters to visit their Grammie. She lived on the farm I’d grown up on. The first time I said it my grade school-aged girls asked, “Why are you saying that? The smell is disgusting!”
Glancing into the backseat where they sat, I explained cheerfully, “The reason I said that is because, if you don’t smell cow poop in a dairy farmer’s yard, he doesn’t have an income. There’s no way to milk cows or raise beef cattle without having manure to deal with. Where there is no poop, there won’t be a paycheck either.”
Having spent many hours in the barn with my family while I was growing up, the smell of manure was familiar to me and not offensive. The only time the smell was not ok was when dirty barn boots tracked filth into a house, school, or church. My mother always made sure that our farmhouse never smelled like barn. We changed clothing and washed when coming into the house or going somewhere.
With the advent of manure lagoons behind barns, the smell of animal dung often hangs in the air for hours and sometimes for days around the farmyard. The reason this happens is because from time to time the farmer needs to empty the lagoon and spread its contents as fertilizer on the surrounding fields. My daughters and I could always tell when my brother, who took over our home farm, was pumping out the lagoon.
Smiling at a memory of her own, Tammie confessed, “I remember you saying that. Once, when I was in high school and with friends, I said it, too!”
Frowning, I questioned, “What in the world made you do that?”
My daughter explained, “One fall afternoon when the wrestling team had an out-of-town match, we cheerleaders rode the bus with them. As we passed a farm, the unmistakable smell of manure floated into the bus through all the open windows. Having heard you say it so often, without thinking I blurted, “I smell money!”
The others on the bus must have looked at Tammie like she was out of her mind, but I laughed anyway and asked, “Did you say it in a sing-song sort of way like I do, accenting the word money?”
Realizing that embarrassment and self-consciousness is a big issue for a teenager, I wondered how she handled the situation. In a more serious, sympathetic tone, I invited her to tell me what happened. “That must have been mortifying. The other kids on the bus probably couldn’t understand what made you say something so ridiculous. What did you tell them?”
Shrugging, Tammie claimed, “I wasn’t embarrassed. What you taught me made so much sense. The smell meant someone along the way was making a living for themselves.”
Frowning, I turned to look at her and exclaimed, “Are you serious? Maybe you just don’t remember the embarrassment!”
Tammie looked back at me with an expression of surprise on her face. She assured me, “No, I think I would remember having felt embarrassed.”
Shaking my head, I murmured, “I’m feeling second-hand embarrassment. It’s true that the smell of manure means a farmer has a source of income, but when I said the smell of cow poop was the smell of money, I was just being a goofy, zany character.”
My daughter comforted me with a smile, “Don’t suffer second-hand embarrassment, Mom. No one on the bus made a big stink over what they heard me say. Remembering our visits to Grammie makes me feel happy, and when the yard was fragrant, I loved the cheerful way you said, ‘I smell money!’”
