I remember the exact moment everything changed.
I was there the day my dad got the call:
“It’s over. Everything’s shutting down. We’re done.”
Just like that, decades of work were gone.
I didn’t carry the same financial stress that crushed my parents, but I felt the weight of it. I watched it destroy them emotionally. Years of sacrifice, long hours, and dreams tied to the family feed yard—all locked up when the bank froze everything.
They had saved a few hundred thousand dollars in their account over 30 or 40 years. Gone. Inaccessible.
I remember my dad pulling me aside not long after and saying:
“Son, we’ve got $12,000 in a shoebox in the attic above our closet. I’m only telling you so you know where it’s at… in case we need you to get it. That’s all we’ve got.”
That was a moment I’ll never forget. It was real. Raw. Final.
My parents were married young—15 and 17. They got pregnant a few months into marriage and never left the operation. They built their life around it. Every decision, every sacrifice, every missed opportunity was tied to the farm.
And when it all came crashing down, it hit hard.
I watched them grieve—not just the financial loss, but the decades they gave up. The "what-ifs." The buried resentment. The quiet moments of blame and heartbreak. It all surfaced. Especially for my mom. She had given everything to help build something she thought would last.
But in the end, there were no explanations. Just loss.
Looking back, I’m strangely grateful I lived through that. It opened my eyes early. It showed me the truth about what can happen when you don’t have structure, clarity, or control.
It’s a big reason why I’ve made the choices I have as an adult. Why I started Legacy Farmer. Why I’m obsessed with helping other farm families avoid the exact same collapse.
Because I’ve seen what happens when the bank locks the doors.
When decades of work disappear overnight.
When there’s nothing left but a shoebox in the attic.
And I don’t want anyone else to go through that.