Notes from Dr. Sam

Good Day,

I hope this note finds you well.

Most of you know I was raised on a farm in east Arkansas. My father was a sharecropper rice farmer; he and his brothers worked for the Conner Company, which owned the land and equipment. 

Dad had a minimal education—9th grade in a one-room schoolhouse in the country near Almyra, Arkansas—but, in many ways, he was a wise and thoughtful man and usually had something funny to say. 

One morning when I was about 12 years old, we were riding down Highway 64 heading for town. He looked out across the field and said, out of the blue, “You know, son, we Taggarts are poorly domesticated field animals”.” 

I didn’t know what he meant; I just smiled and wondered what was coming next. First of all, at that age I didn’t know what a domesticated field animal was, and second, almost all of Dad’s pithy little sayings had a funny tag line, followed by a chuckle. 

So, I was waiting for the next shoe to drop. He didn’t disappoint as he continued, “We’re like those cows and pigs you see out there, that we bring in the shed every night. We feed and water them and give them a warm place to sleep out of the rain and cold. We’re a lot like that. If we weren’t here, they would survive, always have. 

“And if you took away the niceties of our lives, we would survive as well. I learned that during the war.” There was no funny tag line or chuckle this time, and that was the end of the conversation. He sank back into his thoughts, and I began to chew on what he had said. 

I may have told you this before, but Dad slept with his bedroom window raised open about three inches, 365 days out of the year, except when it was bitterly cold—and that wasn’t very often. When asked about it, he would say, “You need to understand: I’m a rice farmer and my life is out of doors. I don’t have time to worry about whether it is hot or cold when I walk out the door; I’ve got to go out there one way or the other.”

Well, I’m not a farmer, and I don’t sleep with my window open in cold weather, but I am no less of a poorly domesticated field animal than my father was. When I can’t be out there, I really miss it. As most of you know, I have been running outdoors most days of the year since I was in my early twenties. 

The only things I cull are slick ice, thunder, and lightning. So, when you see me out there running in the cold of winter or heat of midsummer, understand that what you are seeing is a poorly domesticated field animal.

Have a good journey,

Sam

 Dr. Sam Taggart is a retired doctor/writer/marathon runner who practiced in Benton for 45 years. He recently released For Every Family, A Family Doctor: a history of the modern Family Medicine Movement in Arkansas. His other books include Country Doctors of Arkansas, The Public’s Health, With a Heavy Heart and We All Hear Voices.