A Farm Boy Goes to Princeton
By Gary Mount
As I grew up on my family's farm near Princeton, I, as is the case with many boys, wanted to do what my father did--In this case to be a farmer. I was determined to go to an agricultural school. Rutgers, Cornell--something like that. But when my father found out that I could get into Princeton, he said that was where I had to go. Little did I realize. I would go to Princeton, follow dreams in the Peace Corps and travel around the world and still end up a farmer.
Attending Princeton has made it hard for me to become a farmer--it also made it possible. When I arrived at Princeton thoughts of farming disappeared. Being at Princeton was--well if you are reading this, you know--it was the nuts, the cat's meow, it was just the best. Then as now it was a privilege to go there. We students were encouraged to make the best of our opportunities. We should become a doctor, lawyer, finance, academic, public service--be at the top of what you could be. In my immature state, I subscribed to this advice without thinking. It made it hard to even conceive of being a farmer--it would be a waste of a fabulous education. I am not sure that was exactly the message that we were told, but in my immaturity and lack of thoughtfulness, that was the message I chose to receive.
I plunged into Princeton. The first two years was mostly sports, girls and drinking. The last two were of doing much better. Learning to excel, publishing my thesis, high honors, acceptance into grad school--no thought of farming. Princeton did make it hard to be a farmer.
I never went to grad school. My father died the day before I was to register for the first year. I returned to the farm and never went back. The next year, I got married to Pam and we entered the Peace Corps. Then as now, service to others was in the Princeton ethos. Serving in the Peace Corps fit (and it convinced Pam to marry me!)
Three years in Micronesia led to big changes. More maturity, thoughtfulness, more understanding of what is really important, and what it means to find a place in the world. We were on a small island, one half square mile in size. We served 400 people. We learned that our impact did not have to be global to be significant. It was OK to be a fish in a small pond. We could make a difference to 400 people and it was enough.
Returning home to the US leads to the part of my story of how going to Princeton made it possible to be a farmer. Becoming a farmer in 1975 just wasn't done in central New Jersey. Although it has changed a bit these days, in the county where we now live and farm, I was told that no one had purchased a farm for farming in more than 25 years prior to 1975. Farms were for building upon--houses, offices, malls--not for farming. And--we had no money. My family farm had been sold when I was in high school. If we wanted to farm we had to buy! We borrowed it all, finishing the purchase on our credit card (not recommended). We were 28 years old with one child and starting a risky adventure. Most small businesses--and farms--fail in the first few years.
But, this I could tolerate. I had gone to Princeton. It now seems self serving to say, but Princeton allowed me to think I could do anything I wanted to do. At Princeton I did not learn to farm--it isn't an ag school, but I learned to learn. There were few other farmers nearby and none in my field of fruit growing, but I still learned. Somehow, I felt that if farming did not work out, it would not be a problem. I could do most anything I set my mind to. The first 15 to 20 years were pretty grim financially, but I was blessed with a wife who did not let excessive risk bother her and I learned to farm and learned to succeed.
I remain convinced that I could not have become the farmer that I am and could not have created a farm that is valued (treasured) by my community without having gone to college where I did. This farm boy is glad he went to Princeton.
Attending Princeton has made it hard for me to become a farmer--it also made it possible. When I arrived at Princeton thoughts of farming disappeared. Being at Princeton was--well if you are reading this, you know--it was the nuts, the cat's meow, it was just the best. Then as now it was a privilege to go there. We students were encouraged to make the best of our opportunities. We should become a doctor, lawyer, finance, academic, public service--be at the top of what you could be. In my immature state, I subscribed to this advice without thinking. It made it hard to even conceive of being a farmer--it would be a waste of a fabulous education. I am not sure that was exactly the message that we were told, but in my immaturity and lack of thoughtfulness, that was the message I chose to receive.
I plunged into Princeton. The first two years was mostly sports, girls and drinking. The last two were of doing much better. Learning to excel, publishing my thesis, high honors, acceptance into grad school--no thought of farming. Princeton did make it hard to be a farmer.
I never went to grad school. My father died the day before I was to register for the first year. I returned to the farm and never went back. The next year, I got married to Pam and we entered the Peace Corps. Then as now, service to others was in the Princeton ethos. Serving in the Peace Corps fit (and it convinced Pam to marry me!)
Three years in Micronesia led to big changes. More maturity, thoughtfulness, more understanding of what is really important, and what it means to find a place in the world. We were on a small island, one half square mile in size. We served 400 people. We learned that our impact did not have to be global to be significant. It was OK to be a fish in a small pond. We could make a difference to 400 people and it was enough.
Returning home to the US leads to the part of my story of how going to Princeton made it possible to be a farmer. Becoming a farmer in 1975 just wasn't done in central New Jersey. Although it has changed a bit these days, in the county where we now live and farm, I was told that no one had purchased a farm for farming in more than 25 years prior to 1975. Farms were for building upon--houses, offices, malls--not for farming. And--we had no money. My family farm had been sold when I was in high school. If we wanted to farm we had to buy! We borrowed it all, finishing the purchase on our credit card (not recommended). We were 28 years old with one child and starting a risky adventure. Most small businesses--and farms--fail in the first few years.
But, this I could tolerate. I had gone to Princeton. It now seems self serving to say, but Princeton allowed me to think I could do anything I wanted to do. At Princeton I did not learn to farm--it isn't an ag school, but I learned to learn. There were few other farmers nearby and none in my field of fruit growing, but I still learned. Somehow, I felt that if farming did not work out, it would not be a problem. I could do most anything I set my mind to. The first 15 to 20 years were pretty grim financially, but I was blessed with a wife who did not let excessive risk bother her and I learned to farm and learned to succeed.
I remain convinced that I could not have become the farmer that I am and could not have created a farm that is valued (treasured) by my community without having gone to college where I did. This farm boy is glad he went to Princeton.