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Posts Tagged ‘Georgie Smith’

   Fourth-generation Central Whidbey farmer Georgie Smith with some of her produce.

The drive to get fourth-generation Central Whidbey farmer Georgie Smith and her family back on their feet after the loss of the Smith Barn continues to build.

The 1880s era barn, which was the hub of Willowood Farm, burnt to the ground Monday night. Losses included all of Smith’s seed for the 2017 growing season.

A GoFundMe set up by family friends — https://www.gofundme.com/never-finished-farming-smith-barn — has raised $42,000 and counting, and now you can donate locally, as well.

People’s Bank (behind the Coupeville Country Store) has an account set up under the “Smith Family Benefit Account.”

Donations can be done in person or mailed to:

People’s Bank
107 S Main St., #101
Coupeville, WA 98239

As she faces the road ahead, Georgie wrote the following:

Well, that happened. Today, come the tears.

Thank you to everybody for your kind words.

I am SO thankful that nobody was harmed in the fire. And no pets either (other than we might have lost some irascible “barn chickens” that had insisted on roosting in there, at apparently, their risk!).

And then my husband dislocated his shoulder running out the door when he saw it, and tripped over a flowerbed.

He thought my parent’s house was on fire too, luckily not.

And, once the ER docs got his shoulder back in its socket, he was sent home with a sling and instructions to be careful and should heal it fine. So that is good.

And I’m thankful it didn’t affect my parent’s house, which certainly it could have if the wind had been blowing.

And so thankful for the Whidbey Island Firefighters who have been out there all night, letting the final stuff burn down.

Strange thing, this morning, seeing the field behind where the barn had been from my house. First time I’ve ever seen that.

I haven’t heard any thoughts of what caused it. But to honest, I haven’t been brave enough to go down there and talk to the firefighters either.

I heard that it did burn hot enough to show up on the weather radar, that’s wild. I wonder if they will ever know.

It could have been a number of things but whatever it was, it went fast.

My crew was in there to almost dusk, working on some projects.

Meanwhile, my neighbor was jogging by the farm, must have been just a bit past that as he could see some smoke, figured we were burning some trash.

By the time he got to our driveway, he heard several explosions; probably some flames had reached a tractor and a gas tank. He sprinted for the phone and 911 but it was too late.

What happens now?

I have to honest, I’d like to shout and shake my first and say “we will build again!”

But at this moment, I rightly don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll farm again.

I have to be honest about that right now for those of you so kindly supporting me.

Farming is a BITCH. We suffered greatly in 2015 and I thought about throwing in the towel then, but persevered by the skin of my teeth, had a much better year in 2016 and was posed this year to make some great gains … finally.

Then this.

Ironically, I was just in the process of applying for a Farm Services collateral loan against my equipment – I finally had enough paid off to be of value – to get a low interest credit line for the season and put myself in much better shape financially going forward.

That option is now … gone. Even my delivery van, which I had just paid off, burned up.

I doubt we will get much from insurance. The barn was not insured for much, how to value it? And when we put in our insurance, we focused on the homes not the barn.

Perhaps not the best call in hindsight. Lol.

And much of my older equipment was not insured either. 1950s tractors were of great use and value to us, but not much to the insurance agent.

And all the myriad other things. Like the two walk-ins we had – both built over the years from, literally, scraps and giveaways and sweat and tears. If I purchased/built those new they’d probably run me $10,000 or more each.

And then of course, I had debt.

Which now I have no way to service with no foreseeable income coming in.

How does one even pick the vegetables we have? I don’t have a single lug to put it in, a washing area, boxes or a vehicle to deliver it.

Heck, even our harvest knives burned up.

And that’s not counting the investment going forward into THIS year’s crops.

Unless they somehow survived in their refrigerator storage areas in the barn, all my 2017 seed is gone. Including several 1000s of lbs of dry beans.

Roughly figured, it would take around $200,000 to get me even, with debt and to replace all the equipment and things we had. And that ISN’T counting a barn space.

On a positive note…the garlic was planted in the field so it is fine! Oy.

The barn was the hub, the nexus, of all farming operations. Without it, hard to imagine.

Where to store equipment and work on it (that we don’t have). Where to pack the food? Where to store all the stuff?

Do I want to take all this risk again? Sitting here right now, that sounds like a pretty stupid thing to do.

Farming … has not been an easy row to hoe financially, at all.

I have no retirement or savings, it’s all gone into the farm over the years.

Can I put my family at risk, on the financial teeter-totter of farming, for this, again?

But then again, I don’t know what to do if I DON’T farm. I’ve thought about that in the past, if I ever decided to quit.

Who hires a 45-year-old farmer who is used to setting her own schedule, is overly dirty, and doesn’t really deal well with bureaucracy?

And then just the emotional loss.

I feel so bad for my father. How much of his life work just burned up. Just gone.

The barn he had fixed and repaired so many times. The equipment. Over the winter he had replaced the gas engine on one of our old tractors with a new diesel motor. He was so proud of it.

Just yesterday, I took a photo of him spray-painting one of our other tractors in the barn. It makes me sick.

And the history. All the history.

I’ve always loved to share our farm and barn with visitors.

We just had a garage sale in there last weekend and I spent quite a bit of time sharing the story of the barn with visitors. It was one-of-a-kind.

And I know how much the barn and our farm means to this community. Right now I feel like I’ve failed the community.

What could I have done to prevent this? There were a million stupid things I can think of right now that could have caused it.

I know this is defeatist thoughts. But they are there right now, I can’t deny them.

To my community and the many who have sent well wishes, and money. Thank you. I’m so sorry this has happened on so many levels.

If you want to support us financially, I certainly won’t say no because I think we will need every little bit to even stay afloat right now as a family.

What will we do going forward … I don’t know. It’s too early to say.

I have to have a serious discussion with my family about it.

But I can tell you, it means the world to me that you are willing to support me though.

So again, thank you.

Love you all,

Farmer Georgie

Willowood Farm of Ebey’s Prairie

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Georgie Smith (51)

   Georgie Smith (#51, top, back row) joins (l to r, bottom) Ben Etzell, Makana Stone, Chris Tumblin and Tom Eller (cap) as crafters of Hall-worthy moments.

When I first started my Coupeville Sports Hall o’ Fame, there was one quick dissenter.

His argument?

The “athletic history of the school is already up on the gym walls.”

And right then I knew I really, really needed to do this thing.

Why you ask?

Because what is up on the CHS gym walls is a mere fraction of this town’s sports history, and, if that is the only thing newcomers have to go off of, they’ll be reading one slim chapter out of a really thick book.

I mean, start with the banners on the wall in the gym itself, which stretch all the way back to … 1990.

You’re going to tell me the school never won a single title in the ’40s? ’50s? ’60s? ’70s? ’80s? Bull crap.

Just because the school has never researched those titles and hung banners (say, for the undefeated ’74 CHS football team) doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.

And what of teams that had amazing seasons, such as the 2009-2010 Wolf boys’ basketball squad, which went 16-5, but lost out on a title banner by the slimmest of margins? Is that season not worthy of remembrance?

Head down the hallway, where the Athlete of the Year winners hang, and it’s impressive. But not complete.

Many great Wolf athletes never won that honor, for a variety of reasons. Some years (or decades) were stacked with multiple should-be winners, while in others, like with the Oscars, the winners were just flat-out the wrong choice.

And I could go on and on, but, eventually, we need to get to today’s honorees, the members of the 26th class to be inducted into my virtual hall o’ reclaimed history.

Keeping in that spirit, I’m veering off a bit today and inducting no athletes or coaches or teams or contributors, but instead, five moments.

Two memorable quotes, one moment of ultimate sacrifice, one quirky reminder it’s all fun and games and one transcendent season which never got its just due.

All five of which you would have no freakin’ clue about from looking at the gym walls.

For their contributions to our living history, we welcome Chris Tumblin, Georgie Smith, Ben Etzell, Tom Eller and Makana Stone. After this, you can find their contributions atop this blog, under the Legends banner.

We kick things off with our quotemeisters.

Tumblin, who’s already in the Hall with the state champion Little League team he coached, has always been a dependable go-to guy for words of wisdom and wit.

On this day, we remember him for an immortal quote he delivered after watching Josh Bayne wreck folks in a Wolf football game.

Josh had one tackle on a receiver, folded him in half like a cheap hooker who was punched in the gut by her pimp. He had to sit out for awhile and wait for his liver to start working again.”

How is that not emblazoned on the entrance to the CHS locker rooms? I’d pay a dollar to see that.

Smith, an ’89 CHS grad who went on to work as a journalist before returning to farm the prairie quite successfully for many years now, is on a very short list of former Wolf athletes who declined my invite to reminisce about their prep sports days.

Her response to my inquiry remains, far and away, the best dismissal I ever got.

“Well, if there was one thing I sucked at David, it was high school sports.

“So if you want to do a story about how in a small town EVERYBODY gets to play on the basketball team (even if you can’t dribble to save your life) or the volleyball team (even if you were scared shit-less every time somebody spiked the ball at you) that would be me.

“I can tell you the story about the ONE TIME I tried to steal the ball in basketball and it was so ridiculous that when the play was over I looked over to see my coach with his head between his knees laughing til he cried. So if so, sure.”

Well, now I want to hear her other stories even more.

Our third moment came via Eller, who was a pretty dang good softball coach and teacher. My memory of him, though, comes from the football press box in the early ’90s.

CHS didn’t have a buzzer to announce the end of quarters at the time, so instead, Eller would fire off a starters pistol to alert the players and refs.

Every single time (at least the way I remember it) he would lean out through what was then an open press box window and tell fans to cover their ears.

Then, huge grin on his face, he would wait until they assumed it was safe to uncover their ears, at which point he would suddenly fire the pistol overhead, causing them all to jump. Then he would laugh and laugh.

It worked every time, and remains one of the best memories I have of covering high school sports.

Would you know about it from looking at the gym walls? Heck no. Hall worthy? Heck yeah!

Our fourth inductee, Etzell, was a standout athlete, a Cascade Conference MVP in baseball, a high-scoring machine in basketball and a state tourney vet in tennis. At some point, he’ll probably make the Hall for all that.

For the moment, we’re going to honor him for the time he ripped off his knee caps.

Playing a doubles match against South Whidbey in 2012, Etzell, channeling his baseball heritage, threw himself (and his bare knees) airborne twice.

Cement and skin are not an ideal match (“Everyone who was watching went berserk, including me!!” said coach Ken Stange, a life-long tennis ace who admitted he had never, and would never, replicate the feat), but Etzell converted both shots, then spent the rest of the season covered in horrifying-looking leg wounds.

Etzell had a lot of big moments as a Wolf, but, frankly, that’s how we’ll always remember him — bloody, unbowed, a one-of-a-kind maniac who played with abandon and never, ever backed down from a challenge.

And then we arrive at our final moment, a five-week span from Mar. 21-April 27, 2012, in which Stone, then a Wolf freshman, started her high school track career by winning her first 28 races.

No one else in CHS history has come remotely close to her run, not even state champs like Kyle and Tyler King, Jon Chittim or Amy Mouw.

Whether it was the 100, 200, 400 or the relays (she ran in the 4 x 100, 4 x 200 and 4 x 400), Stone was first, and only first, every time she stepped on the track until she finally ran into a mammoth field of seasoned state vets from 4A, 3A and 2A at the epic-sized Lake Washington Invitational.

She actually ran her best times of the season at that meet, went on to add four more wins that season and medaled at state in the 4 x 200.

Toss in a strong soccer season and an even better basketball season, and Stone was the biggest slam-dunk in school history to be named Athlete of the Year — an award which had NEVER before had any age restrictions attached to it.

Or so you, me and all the voting coaches who I talked to that year would have thought…

In Oscar terms, Stone “losing” that year was equal to Saving Private Ryan “losing” to Shakespeare in Love. A travesty wrapped in an abomination.

Go look at those gym walls, as our naysayer preferred, and you would have no clue of what a tragedy went down that year.

Good thing we have another way to celebrate our athletic legacy.

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