10/29/2025
“The Last Free Market”
Someday, when my kids are grown and their kids are learning to walk the catwalks at the sale barn, I hope they still feel what I felt every sale day — that electric hum of real commerce. No screens, no middlemen, just people, animals, and the weight of a handshake.
The smell of dust and hay, the cry of the auctioneer, the rhythm of boots on old wood — it’s more than nostalgia. It’s freedom, pure and unfiltered. It’s one of the last places where hard work meets honest value, where a person can still make or lose a fortune by their own choices.
I hope my grandkids learn that a man or woman’s word still matters here. That you can read the market by watching the eyes of the buyers, not scrolling a feed. That raising livestock isn’t just about feeding people — it’s about keeping alive a way of life that refuses to be automated or owned by someone else.
Maybe the rest of the world will trade in algorithms and paper profits. But at the livestock auction, it’ll still come down to weight, quality, and grit. And I hope they never lose that. Because when you strip everything else away — that’s what keeps us free.