Why I joined the John Birch Society...

THE WAR WEARY FARMER
by
JOHN M. BIRCH
I should like to find the existence of
what my father called "Plain living
and high thinking."
I want some fields and hills,
woodlands and streams I can call my
own. I want to spend my strength in
making fields green, and the cattle
fat, so that I may give sustenance to
my loved ones, and aid to those
neighbors who suffer misfortune. I do
not want a life of monotonous papershuffling
or of trafficking with
money-mad traders.
I only want enough of science to
enable fruitful husbandry of the land
with simple tools, a time for leisure,
and the guarding of my family's
health. I do not care to be absorbed in
the endless examining of force and
space and matter, which I believe can
only slowly lead to God.
I do not want a hectic hurrying from
place to place on whizzing machines
or busy streets. I do not want an
elbowing through crowds of impatient
strangers who have time neither to
think their own thoughts nor to know
real friendship. I want to live slowly,
to relax with my family before a

glowing fireplace, to welcome the
visits of my neighbors, to worship
God, to enjoy a book, to lie on a
shaded grassy bank and watch the
clouds sail across the blue.
I want to love a wife who prefers rural
peace to urban excitement, one who
would rather climb a hilltop to watch
a sunset with me than to take a taxi to
any Broadway play. I want a woman
who is not afraid of bearing children,
and who is able to rear them with a
love for home and the soil, and the
fear of God.
I want of Government only protection
against the violence and injustices of
evil or selfish men.
I want to reach the sunset of life
sound in body and mind, flanked by
strong sons and grandsons, enjoying
the friendship and respect of
neighbors, surrounded by fertile
fields and sleek cattle, and retaining
my boyhood faith in Him who
promised a life to come.
Where can I find this world? Would
its anachronism doom it to ridicule or
loneliness? Is there yet a place for
such simple ways in my own America
or must I seek a vale in Turkestan
where peaceful flocks still graze the
quiet hills.
This is the "prose poem" referred to on Page
102. It was written by John in April, 1945,
four months before his death.

For more info on the John Birch Society:

http://www.jbs.org/about

or feel free to email me at tnsonsofliberty@comcast.net for more information on the John Birch Society