Change: The Only Constant Worth Embracing

Change is the one thing we can all count on — right up there with death, taxes, sunrises, and seasons. As a species, we’re born change-averse. Just try moving a toddler’s nap or teenager’s bedtime and see what happens. Or watch grown adults lose their minds twice a year over daylight saving time while they fly across the three time zones without blinking.

Real change takes real work. Lose the weight. Start the hobby. Take the new job. Drive the unfamiliar road. It forces us to stop, look, and actually do something. Complaints are like a flat tire on the tractor — plenty of noise, but they don’t get you anywhere.

Right now, change is circling my place like a naughty ram looking for an opening in the fence. The youngest son just got home from university with a shiny diploma and a blank page that asks, “What’s next?” The eldest bought a house and a business and is already hunting down the next chapter.

Me? Running a tech startup while the husband figures out that he’s more than his job title.

It could feel overwhelming. I’m choosing to call it spring rain instead — messy, necessary, and followed by something greener if we don’t drown first.

It is in these moments that I feel most alive. Uncertainty waits around every bend. Life sucks in its breath, holds it, asks, “Ready?” That’s when I know I’m riding the wave of change. My choices hit the ground right away. But only if I open my eyes and steer — otherwise it’s back to the same old barnyard.

Our country is marking its 250th birthday. Look at everything that’s shifted since then — and the changes staring us down now. Our own peninsula is changing. Do we have a real say in where it goes, or are we just along for the ride?

On my farm, I drive change. New ram. Bigger tractor. Different grass. New irrigation cycles. It’s an autocracy, and I’m the boss. Government is supposed to be a democracy. We the people run it, but only if we show up. If we skip the vote, skip the meetings, stay home and grumble, democracy slides into oligarchy faster than a fresh heifer on the run. A handful of folks end up calling every shot while the rest of us wonder what happened to the pasture.

You’re probably reading this near the August primary, the warm-up for November. These smaller races are where your vote moves the needle. The “My vote doesn’t count” line is just an excuse to stay on the couch. If you don’t vote, you don’t get to complain about the results afterward. You sat it out. End of story.

I don’t care how you vote. I care that you take the time to learn before you do. Voting is a job, and it deserves more than a glance or superficial opinion. Voting takes homework. Washington’s mail-in ballots give you time to do that without rushing. Here’s the practical farmer’s guide:

Host a voting party with family or friends. Crack a beer, spread out the pamphlets, and argue it out loud. You’ll spot your own blind spots quick and maybe make a new friend or two while you’re at it.

Check with someone you respect. See what they recommend, then make your own call. Don’t just copy the homework. Go to a candidate forum or listen while you’re driving the tractor. Takes 20 minutes and beats most of what’s on the radio.

Email or call a candidate with a real question. See how they answer when no one’s watching.

If you’re the boss, give folks time off to vote. If you’re the employee, ask for a couple of hours. It’s not that hard, and it beats pretending the tractor broke down.

Fill out the ballot and drop it. Done. The republic doesn’t run on good intentions.

Thomas Jefferson got it right: Democracy doesn’t survive on apathy. It needs educated, engaged citizens — especially those of us still tied to the land. The changes are coming whether we like it or not. The only real question is whether we’re going to drive them or just stand around complaining about the weather.

Janice Bryant is a repurposed Navy program manager, livestock rancher, and voting member of the Pierce County Agriculture Advisory Commission. She lives in Longbranch.