How You Going To Feed That Pig?

How you going to feed that pig?
My father’s question struck me dumb, though I was seldom at a loss for words. That day – my sixth birthday – I got my first memorable lesson about building ownership. We had a lot of baby pigs on the farm, and I had been yearning for a pig of my own. The price of a pig was five dollars, and I had saved for months to have enough money to buy one. I had accumulated $4. Then someone gave me a dollar for my birthday. This was it! I could buy my pig!

I rushed to dad to make my purchase. After the “ata boy!”, he asked me to take a seat. We had some figuring to do. “How you going to feed that pig?”, he asked. The question had never occurred to me, and after a seemingly eternal silence, he said: “I have a deal for you. I’ll furnish the feed for your pig, and you can furnish the labor to feed the pigs — all the pigs. Then, when your pig grows up and has pigs of her own, we can split the litter, each of us will get half”.

He had me! With a few minutes of inspired conversation — which remains etched crystal clear in my memory more than six decades later — he had used my self interest to get me to buy into the family’s farm economics, and I felt like a real partner. That pig, “Snoog”, did grow up and have many litters, which I was able to sell at weaning. The money went into my bank account, which I always knew was a college fund, though it was drawn on at various times: to purchase my first calf, to buy a trombone, and other such “responsible” uses.

My first calf’s name was Spotty. I used some of my pig money to buy her, and the purchase occasioned another of those sit-down, figuring talks with dad. This time, I wasn’t struck quite so dumb by the “How you going to feed her?” question. I reckoned that I could use some pig money to feed her, but dad had another deal for me. He offered to provide feed for my calf, and I would be responsible for feeding all the calves every day. Then, when she grew up and had calves of her own, she would join the milking herd. I would get the calf, and dad would get the milk. Bingo! He had me again!

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