I was there when it happened.

Not when my brother actually lost part of his finger to a combine chain, but when his girlfriend realized that he was missing a portion of his ring finger.

We were sitting in his trailer watching the Monkees. Bobbi was holding hands with Tim, and she yelled, “What is that?”

It was hilarious! Despite the fact that they had been going steady for more than a year, she hadn’t realized that Tim lacked part of his ring finger. My sister and I laughed out loud.

But, Bobbi shivered visibly when Tim recounted how he lost part of the digit. It was the first time I heard the story about my brother’s childhood farm accident. But I had always known it was gone.

Today, that finger, that is missing a nail plus some, wears a wedding band. Bobbi and Tim have four great kids. His farm life helped make my brother a good provider and father. But I can’t help but wonder what life would have been like if my brother had not have been so lucky.

Yes, lucky.

Like so many farm kids, I can recount tales of neighborhood farm accidents. There were many near and not-so-near misses. The victims were both kids and adults. But I still don’t advise anyone not to let kids help out.

These facts of life didn’t weigh down the fun of being a farm kid. And they still don’t today. As a youngster, I couldn’t understand the danger of life on the farm. I could just see my older siblings helping out and was jealous. Perhaps you can remember begging to drive the tractor only to be told no for what seemed like forever.

But the toll of farm accidents is visible in our farm communities.

Two of my dad’s best friends are missing their thumbs. One kept his in a jar for years. Dad tried to join that club one winter while cutting firewood. Unfortunately for him, thanks to the miracle of modern medicine, it was reattached. He underwent years of therapy and weather-related pain.

Another sister-in-law, Teena, had quite a scare when her dad lost his arm in an old corn-picker. It’s hard to imagine what my nieces Alysia, Kayla and Chantel would be like without their grandpa spoiling them and taking them camping to this day.

The girl’s other grandpa was not so lucky. Sixteen years ago this past May, my father was killed while using a skid-loader to feed our beef cattle. We suppose it was part farm accident, part heart attack. But no matter the cause, his death left an indelible mark on the family.

Similar tragedies, no doubt, have touched you and your extended farm family in some way.

I tell you these things because it is a busy time right now. It may seem that there is little time, but please take the time to consider what you are doing. Are you too tired? Would napping an hour in the tractor or truck cab save you or your family a lifetime of regret?

Just be careful out there.

If you don’t do anything else, do this: Take the thumb in the jar down off the wall. Show your children the scar where the hay baler broke your leg. And tell you kids why grandpa limps. Then, remind your daughter, your grandson and yourself that, yes, the farm life is the best life but we must appreciate the danger.