A Career Retrospective of an Accidental Journey into America's Heartland

An accidental journey. Many years ago I began a journey, a journey that would last a lifetime. I'll describe the culmination of the journey that would accidental in its origins but took on the quality of something meant to be.( I will put in italics the events that resulted in what I believe was an eventful journey of a poor farm boy in Montana to a career in rural mental health and journalism.)

In my personal history, I will write about my family background and influences, life in Montana and then Tacoma WA where I attended Junior High and Seattle WA where I attended High School.

After graduating high school in 1958, I delayed my college scholarship a year, worked at Boeing as an aircraft mechanic and joined the Air National Guard. I went to 9 weeks of basic training in Lackland AFB San Antonio TX.

Way Stations on our journey.

Provo UT. Finding a companion for my journey. I majored in psychology at BYU as a second choice. My first choice would have been philosophy but that was not offered as a major. I attended from 1959 to 1965 with a 2 ½ year hiatus for a church mission to Central America. I served in Guatemala, El Salvador and Nicaragua from July 1961 to Jan. 1964. After my mission while visiting my sister in Sacramento I met Darlene Felsted who at the time was also a BYU student. After an eventful summer job at Alert, Northwest Territories, Canada, we resumed our courtship at BYU.

Sacramento CA. 1965-70. After graduating from Brigham Young University in 1965, I went to Sacramento, California to continue a courtship with Darlene. On June 24, 1966, we were married in the Oakland Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I worked as a social worker in an outpatient mental health clinic for two years and then for another two years as a probation officer in Sacramento.

I had a front row seat in California at a time and opportunity when there was cataclysmic changes occurring in the United States. The social fabric was wearing thin with racial rioting in major cities, Black Panthers and Black Power, Hippies and psychedelic drug use, sexual revolution, Viet Nam War protests, Women's Liberation Movement, assassinations of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr., and in rioting at the Democratic National convention.

Meanwhile, Darlene completed her BA in music education and a teaching credential at Sacramento State University. During this time, we had two daughters while living in Sacramento. I determined that I wanted to work as a clinical psychologist and applied to graduate school in 1970. I was accepted at the University of Arizona in Tucson, Arizona.

Tucson AZ. 1970-74. During my graduate school training as a psychologist, I also had a graduate minor in cultural anthropology, a leading department at the University of Arizona. I spoke Spanish and had an affinity for Hispanic people and their culture. Part of my training involved counseling experiences at a Mexican-American health clinic in Tucson and at a tribal mental health program in Sells, Arizona on the Papago Reservation.

I did my Master's degree and Dissertation on Infant intelligence while providing and evaluating a home enrichment program for minority families in conjunction with the University of Arizona Medical School. It was pathfinding research at the time, but it was not my career ambition to be a researcher in Developmental Psychology. A third daughter was added to our family in Tucson.

Norfolk NB. 1974 -75. Discovering the need. A fellow graduate student completed a year-long internship at a State Hospital and mental health clinic in Norfolk NB. He spoke enthusiastically about his training and especially about the stipend they paid to their interns. We had a family of three daughters by then, and the compensation aspect was attractive. During my training in Norfolk, I counseled with a few farm and ranch families that came to the clinic for service. It was a glimpse into the distinctive nature of the challenges they faced and the uniqueness of rural life and communities seen through a cross-cultural perspective. We had a 4th daughter join our family.

Mitchell, SD. 1975-1978.  Planted in the Heartland. We were job hunting during the 1974-75 Nixon recession. We were looking for positions in Arizona and California but to no avail. I took a position as clinical director of a community mental health center in Mitchell, some 150 miles north and slightly west of Norfolk. Part of my duties there was to provide weekly outreach services to a satellite clinic located at the St. Joseph's Indian School in Chamberlin SD. The clientele there was 50% Native American from the Crow Creek and Lower Brule Reservations and 50% from the farmers and ranchers living near Chamberlin. 

We experienced the stagflation of the '80s up close and personal.  We purchased and loved our Spanish-style home with a flat roof in Mitchell. It soon became a financial albatross around our necks for the next ten years. A fifth daughter joined our family while in Mitchell.

Huron SD. 1978 -1983. Finding the need and filling it with quality. I applied for and accepted a position as the mental health center director in Huron SD, 50 miles to the north of Mitchell. Part of my duties included providing clinical services to the people living in Miller SD and the surrounding agricultural area. 

I gave a talk at the State Fair in Huron, and a farm woman from DeSmet SD asked for a copy and sent it to the Farm Journal in Philadelphia. They sent out a reporter to interview me. That resulted in two articles, "When Marriage and Farming Clash" and "When My Farm Becomes O urs". I also collaborated with Successful Farming magazine in the landmark 1982 article on Coping with Farm Stress and the looming impact on agricultural families throughout the United States.

I also participated in a seminar sponsored by the Center for Family Business in Cleveland OH to learn more about the challenges of family businesses and how the ideas involved might apply to agricultural families. This boost in confidence that I might have something valuable to share, I wrote to a monthly magazine, The Farm Wife News, and pitched an article on rural mental health. They accepted, and thus began a five-year relationship from 1982-1987.

Besides sharing perspectives I gained from interacting with clients in my clinical practice about rural life, rural communities, and the challenges of farming and ranching, I discovered I had a persuasive way with words, a gift I hadn't previously recognized. Their circulation included the United States and Canada. My audience expanded far beyond South Dakota.

The computer with its word processing capability was emerging as a tool for writing and replacing the typewriter. My ability to write efficiently leapfrogged with this new technology. It opened up a world of possibilities. I attended the National Association for Rural Mental Health annual meetings and became president of the Association from 1982-83. I networked with other professionals in this emerging area of mental health services.

Failure is a step on the pathway to success. We made a decision at that time to go into private practice in Huron and concentrate on providing services on a regional basis to farm and ranch families. It was a disaster. I didn't have local steady income nor was my expertise widely known or understood. I also learned the hard way that rural people want anonymity for perceived mental health or family troubles, and the last place they would go is to a local psychologist or mental health provider.

I also learned that despite doing the best I could, I experienced failure in a location where I was held in high esteem. It was a rough lesson but served me well in understanding the greater stakes involved when a farmer loses a farm, he loses friends, his reputation, his community, and in some cases, his very identity. Despite being a "farmer" in name only, I had great empathy and passion for the plight of farm and ranch families during the "Farm Crisis" years of the '80s.

To survive, we looked and found a mental health position in 1983 in Rapid City, SD. Our first son was born in Huron.

Rapid City SD. 1983-1997.   Find a need, filling it with quality and marketing it to those in need. 

Rapid City and the Black Hills are like an oasis in the middle of endless prairie. It seemed like everybody's dream in Eastern South Dakota was to retire in the Black Hills. If I wanted to work somewhere else in South Dakota, where else but Rapid City?  

During the summer of 1983, I met the editor of the Rapid City Journal. We discussed the idea of a weekly column on rural mental health. It took hold, and beginning in January 1984, I started writing a weekly column that would continue until the end of March 2012. I quickly self-syndicated the column to farm papers in the surrounding states.

At the West River Mental Health Center, I started the Rural Enhancement Program to offer clinical services in the region.

In the late '70s and early '80s, farmers were encouraged by the advice of bankers, farm magazines, university agriculture departments, extension agents, and other experts to take advantage of negative interest rates to borrow and expand their operations. When President Reagan and Paul Volcker broke the inflationary spiral, debts came due, and farmers were left holding the bag.

My weekly newspaper column gained popularity during a time of great need. It was a dramatic and heart-wrenching period to be counseling and writing about the economic downturn in America's heartland. I received feedback from readers and learned more and more about the emotional plight of farmers and ranchers. In 1984, the crisis became defined, emerged into public awareness, and acquired a name: the Farm Crisis.

There was suicide, despair, anger, and lashing out against those who helped them into this dilemma. Private misery spilled over into the public arena. The crisis began to be seen not as a problem of poor management and individual failure, but as a systemic problem caused by external factors, with farmers bearing the brunt.I wrote a major article, "Broken Heartland," for "Psychology Today" magazine, the first national article published about the Farm Crisis.

Farmers, ranchers, and their families needed coping ideas, validation, and understanding as their dreams, livelihoods, and very identities were being threatened. Personal communication and problem-solving skills were needed to break through denial, depression, and to take constructive action.

Ironically, it wasn't until my father's funeral in 1987 that I discovered our own family had lost our family farm in Fairfield, MT, to foreclosure when I was seven. I didn't know this event had happened in my own family. Think about it. My surname is "Farmer," and I was helping farm families cope with the loss of their farms. It seemed like fate, karma, or a heaven-inspired destiny. It'seemed like a new chapter was unfolding.

The regularity and relevance of my column led to demands as a public speaker at winter farm events and many other venues. My life became a whirlwind of activity and learning. These were heady times. My surname was somewhat of a cushion for a profession that looked upon seeking emotional and coping advice from a professional as a sign of weakness. Farm wives, in particular, appreciated that the mental health and communication advice appearing in agricultural publications that their husbands read legitimized discussion between them and others in the community.

I broadened my column by giving advice on traditional psychological and mental health topics. I attended the American Psychological Association national convention every year in my field, as well as meetings of the Rural Sociology Association. I was affiliated with Division 46 Media Psychology and interacted with other psychologists disseminating psychological research and advice to the public. I identified and aggressively interviewed other professionals who I believed had valuable insights and messages to offer. I had a sub-specialty in marital therapy and wrote extensively on marital issues and advice.

I tried to bring a standard of truth and trustworthy research into my writing. I wrote without jargon. I respected my rural audience and knew they needed ideas on their own unique circumstances, consistent with their issues and values, as well as generic topics of marriage, parenting, communication and conflict resolution skills, and all of the anxiety, depression, and emotional pain people would present in my clinical practice.

I ventured into private practice again in Rapid City, a bigger city where my name recognition was helpful. I also had a big and active family of seven children (our last son was born in Rapid City), church responsibilities, and a very busy life. I continued to refine my mediation skills and would travel to help farm and ranch families resolve their family business conflicts.

Fargo. 1997-2006. Even though we considered Rapid City ideal in many ways, we saw better economic prospects in Fargo, ND. My column was well received there and was prominently featured in the agriculture section of the Fargo Forum. I had been invited there for several speaking engagements and was warmly received. I had the strong impression that our family would thrive in Fargo. I persuaded my wife, who was initially reluctant due to the harsh winters, to see the possibilities. Our family finances and future financial security came together in Fargo, making it a great place for us.

I worked half-time providing clinical counseling services for MeritCare Hospital while using the rest of my time to continue my private public speaking, rural mental health consultation, and farm family mediation services. I secured some grant money and over two winters, sponsored a series of retreats for farm couples leaving farming or needing coping strategies for the stress of farming.

Huron, SD. 2006-Present. Although the upper Midwest - the Dakotas and Minnesota - had been our initial base for my work in rural mental health, the leading farm papers in Iowa, Missouri, and Illinois had carried my column since 1984, so there would be no drop in name recognition by moving to St. Louis. We sold our home in Fargo and moved to St. Louis in November 2006.

Since then, our 15 and a half years in Wildwood, a suburb of St. Louis, have surpassed our 14 years in Rapid City. We are centrally located and enjoy being in the loop for family gatherings and travel. Two of our daughters and their families have joined us here in St. Louis, and we have a total of three children, their spouses, and 15 grandchildren here. Our family togetherness is a blessing. Our decision not to have a clinical practice here allows us to focus on rural mental health endeavors. I have also developed a passion for outdoor landscaping and gardening work, leading to a more balanced and less stressful life with better health.

Retiring from my weekly column at the end of 2012 was a difficult decision, but it created new opportunities for travel, service, and family togetherness. It was made easier by trusting another rural psychologist, Mike Rosmann, to continue the column and meet the needs of my audience.

Retirement. Although it was hard to retire from column writing in 2012 and sever my lifeline to my loyal audience, I wanted and needed to concentrate on serving my God, my family, and others without the powerful feedback loop and time-consuming nature of my public contributions. I occasionally engage in family farm and ranch mediation when people seek me out. For me, helping loving and caring families function effectively as a team by giving them the tools to solve their communication and conflict resolution difficulties, as well as address their business structure, past hurts, and resentments, was the best of the best.

Darlene and I served a two-year mission for our church in Mongolia from 2012 to 2014. For those interested in our experiences there, you can access my blog, "Musings in Mongolia," and other post-mission travels on our website.

In the past six months, I have been revising my website and working with The State Historical Society of Missouri to tell my story and leave a legacy of my writing for future generations. I don't want to dwell too long on where I've been; something on the horizon still beckons me onward. There is more to do in my life. Stay tuned.