Published by the Suwannee Valley Times
Often, when working at my new farm in Suwannee, after years of farming in Pine Island, Lee County, I stop to ponder a way to get something done, and the thought comes to my mind: how would Ken do it? I can then picture him, wearing his wide-brimmed hat decorated with a feather, and saying something like: “The right tool for the right job,” “Work smart, not hard,” “Don’t cut corners.”
When my friend Ken Ryan retired a few years ago, he gave me most of his tools, materials and books, which I use every day. But a long time before that he had given me something even more precious: skills, knowledge, high standards, and above all, a deep respect and understanding of Nature. He’s from Boston, where he was involved in organic farming and community gardens from a young age. After serving in the Navy, he bought 10 acres in North Fort Myers and started farming them. At first, he did everything wrong. The growing seasons, crops, pests, weather, all were different. But, smart and determined, he didn’t give up, and soon started getting things right. Very right.
His farm became famous for the incredible variety and quality of its produce, herbs and microgreens. Celebrity chefs from Naples and beyond would visit and be stunned by what they saw and tasted. Ken had no patience for fools, so no matter how rich or famous the visitor, if he was pushy, showed ignorance or tried to argue about prices, he’d be dismissed on the spot. Those who struck the right attitude, on the other hand, would shake hands and seal the deal with a toast of Ken’s homemade moonshine, mead or absinthe.
Entire menus were built around what that farm grew. There were lines at the restaurants, waiting lists of chefs willing to pay double for a truckload of produce. But Ken was loyal, and a handshake was more important than money. His quality standards were impossibly high. The slightest blemish would send a harvest that most farmers would be proud of to the compost pile. “Only perfect will do!”
Knowledgeable, witty, cranky, funny, intolerant of mediocrity and stupidity, generous, blunt, stubborn, Ken trained a couple of local teenagers at his farm, and paid them excellent wages. I met him in my early 30’s, around the time of the 2008 crash, when I was looking to start a new career in organic farming. We got along well, and I started spending a lot of time with him, helping, learning. In time, friends with similar interests also began to gather at the farm, and those were some of the happiest times in my life. The young helpers, Whitney and Ty, would be harvesting or weeding, as Anita planted trays of microgreens while Ken, Billy and myself built a new mushroom house or earthworm tea system.
Good memories! Life went on. I started my own farm, saw my children grow up, then saw many of my friends leave the area, as development pushed agriculture away. Finally, it was time for my wife and I to leave, too, chased away by bulldozers making way for ever more McMansions, malls and golf courses. Ken stayed, much diminished by health issues. His wife, Carol, passed away, and the house feels empty now. The farm doesn’t produce anymore. Good neighbors keep the area around the house mowed, but Ken is letting the woods reclaim most of the property. We talk over the phone often, and on the rare occasions I visit Ft. Myers I visit him. We reminisce, and laugh a lot. There’s no time for sadness.
To me, Farmer Ken represents what’s best about America: the possibility of doing well following your own path. Being proud of your work, fiercely independent in thought and action, gentle and generous with those who deserve it, hard and proud when anyone tries to push you around. Not asking for anything, not complaining, carving your own way in the world, helping others along the way and leaving it a better place, that’s Ken Ryan in a nutshell. All of us who have known him, or others like him, will cherish these values after his generation fades. Will this be enough to offset the course of destruction our nation is following right now? Time will tell. In the meantime, we should celebrate the best and brightest amongst us. Not politicians, pop idols, or arrogant billionaires, but those, like my friend Ken, who truly deserve to be called what they are: An American Original.
The Avocado Grove 