Melvin Bernard Halfmann, Sr.

Melvin B. Halfmann, Sr., 67, of Eola passed away Tuesday, February 23, 2010 at his home surrounded by his family after a long, courageous battle with cancer.

He was born March 24, 1942 in Lowake, Texas to Arthur and Carrie (Hamann) Halfmann. On July 17, 1965 he and Joan Halfmann were married in Olfen, and the couple raised their children as part of a hard-working farming family. Melvin farmed all his life in the Eola-Lowake-Rowena area, loving the land and everything that being a farmer means. He was a member of St. Joseph Catholic Church in Rowena. He was also a member of the Young Farmers Association for many years, the Lowake Sharpshooters, and on the Rowena Knights of Columbus Council. From 1961 to 1963, during the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis, he served in the 49th Battalion of the National Guard.

Melvin is survived by his devoted wife, Joan Halfmann, of Eola; his children, Melvin Halfmann, Jr. and wife, Amy, of Lowake, Charlotte Matschek and husband, Brad, of Rowena, and Brent Halfmann and wife, Bernadette, of Wall; and his brother, Dennis Halfmann and wife, Connie, of Lowake. Also surviving are eleven dearly-loved grandchildren, Christin, Brooklynn, Taylor, and Whitney Halfmann; Shayann, Davis, and Ryan Matschek; and Baylor, Brady, Allison, and Kenli Halfmann; and numerous nieces and nephews.

Rosary will be recited Thursday, February 25 at 7:00 p.m. at St. Joseph Catholic Church in Rowena with Stanley Lange presiding. Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated at 10:00 a.m. on Friday, February 26 at St. Joseph Catholic Church with Rev. Chinnapparaj Mariasavary and Msgr. Larry Droll co-celebrating. Nephews will serve as pallbearers, and interment will be in St. Joseph Catholic Cemetery.

Memorials may be made to the St. Joseph Building Fund, the American Cancer Society, or a favorite charity.

Me—the farmer

I’m glad I’m a farmer.
Sometimes I’m angry about being a farmer. And disappointed. Elated. Puzzled. Worried. And, I suppose, every emotion in the book.
But I’m glad I’m a farmer.
Because I know what I am. And what I feel.
I feel I’m akin to my land and the things that grow on my land…
And the sky over my land and the water that falls on it and flows through it…
And the livestock that sustains itself upon my land…
And the buildings that shelter me and my wife and our children and the machines that help to make my land fruitful.
These are a bone-deep part of me.
As is sweat. Cloudburst. Drought. Repairs. Disease. Heartache. Market losses. And profits. Sowing. Reaping. And a hundred and one setbacks and successes, large and small, that other men may never know. But that I know. And am content with.
Not because farming is easy. It isn’t. Or because a farmer enjoys fame. He doesn’t. Or because a farmer like me is a wealthy man. I am not.
It’s simply because I know what I am. And I know what I feel.
I wouldn’t have me any other way.
Me—the farmer.