How Did You Meet Your Sweetheart? In 1992, a newspaper solicited short stories for a Valentine's Day contest. While rummaging through some files, I recently unearthed the unused grand prize certificate. With no hired help, the responsibility of the dairy business prevented us from taking advantage of that romantic mini-vacation. 

 Since the original copy is unavailable, the story went something like this: While I was working as a bank drive-up teller, a farmer made a transaction. Using the sound system, I asked what happened to his bandaged finger. I sympathized about his injury and said I knew pigs have sharp teeth. He looked at me strangely and drove off. The next time he did his banking I mentioned our family enjoyed raising pigs. He smiled and said that was nice. 

 During a subsequent transaction, I joked that his pigs must be behaving 
better because I didn't see any more bandages. He said, "I don't have any pigs."  I reminded him that he told me his finger had been injured by a pig's snout. He replied, "I told you I was on the way to get my stitches out."  Naturally, we had a good laugh. That odd miscommunication apparently sparked an interest between us. When circumstances permitted, we got to know each other; in 1992, Mr. R and I had been married eight years. 

 Stepping further back in time, an amusing event abruptly forced our family to learn about raising pigs (also called hogs or swine). In the early 1970s, relatives operated a diner. A man stopped in the parking lot, opened his car trunk, and out jumped a small pig. The pig sped off with the man in hot pursuit. After the pig disappeared, the man scoured the area for a long time. 

Eventually, he drove off, never to be seen again. Later that day, the pig was discovered hiding in a doghouse. That's how Herman came into our lives.

 We made a temporary pen of hay bales for Herman until a movable pigpen could be built. This friendly, intelligent, amusing animal was enjoyable to have around; our four children loved to play with him and ride on his back. Herman kept growing and growing and growing; when he weighed about three-hundred pounds we were still agonizing over his fate: keeping a huge adult pet pig was out of the question; sending Herman to the livestock auction would be cruel for such a sensitive animal; processing him into hams, chops, bacon, etc., seemed unthinkable. Unfortunately, the unthinkable became a reality. It was extremely upsetting to look at or touch the frozen meat. Eventually, we reluctantly agreed to try some pork chops. The first bites were difficult -- the meat was delicious!

 We concluded raising pigs was a worthwhile venture. With the understanding they were destined for the freezer, the following spring we purchased two thirty-pound weaned pigs. When the pigs weighed about two-hundred pounds, they were trucked to a processing facility. We graduated to raising four pigs yearly, sharing expenses with friends, and butchering them ourselves. That worked well except for the time our St. Bernard feasted on the bottom half of a carcass hanging in our garage. 

 Last fall, Mr. R ordered a market pig from a farmer who raises four for his family plus a few extra to sell. The farmer trucked the pig to a processor who promptly contacted us. I grabbed my ragged old cookbook with the diagram of a side of pork and we discussed specific cuts, packaging, and curing of hams and bacon. When the meat was ready, we picked it up and paid the processor for his labor. The pork, by the way, was wonderful.

 Cooperative Extension provides information for those interested in purchasing locally raised meat products. Local farmers usually provide the same fresh varieties normally found in supermarket meat departments, plus a whole lot more, including goose, duck, venison, guinea fowl, ostrich, emu, and buffalo.