An editorial in honor of National 4-H Week
This week, you may notice a little more green around town. Green shirts at the coffee shop, green and white signs in yards, a four-leaf clover t-shirt at the bank. It’s National 4-H Week, and I hope you’ll join me in wearing green to honor the young people, volunteers and families who make 4-H what it is. For me, that green carries a story I’ve been holding onto for most of my life.
Growing up, I had a friend named Kelly Carruthers who asked me to join 4-H more times than I can count. Every time, I said no. Not because I didn’t want to — I loved being creative. Baking, crafting, making something out of nothing. But I was painfully shy. Public speaking terrified me. I didn’t feel “fancy enough,” and I was sure I wouldn’t know how to do a real 4-H project. So I stayed on the sidelines.
Somewhere in high school, something shifted. I took a job as a photographer’s assistant, which meant walking up to strangers at weddings and making conversation. I became a wrestling cheerleader. I joined FFA. Group meetings and team tasks didn’t feel quite so scary anymore, and I discovered how much I loved being around my peers. Little by little, I went out on a limb — and the limb held.
At one of those weddings as a photographers assistant, I saw a Mad Hatter cake: whimsical and tilted on the outside, and when they cut into it, every layer was a burst of color. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I went home and started experimenting in my own kitchen. You might be thinking, ‘Why didn’t you just google a recipe?’ It was the 90’s. The internet was just becoming a ‘THING.’ We were reading encyclopedias and using library card catalogs during study hall to do homework. The only glamorous recipe inspiration came from the magazine selection at grocery store checkouts and doctor offices.
That colorful cake became one of my very first 4-H projects after finally finding the courage to say yes to my friend, Kelly.
I took that cake to the county fair, nervous as could be. I still remember the shock on the judges face when she cut into my cake and saw all of the vibrant colors! I thought the cake went to state fair, but I couldn’t remember until I saw the old picture in the newspaper. What I remember most wasn’t the ribbon. It’s how included I felt. That judge wanted to hear how I made that cake. The idea of interviews made me sick to my stomach, but I loved taking an idea, working on it, and sharing it with someone who genuinely wanted to hear about it. 4-H made room for a shy girl who didn’t think she belonged — and showed her that she did.
I knew when I had children, I wanted them to have that, too.
When my kids were little, was a stay at home mom and wanted to do something good for others. I called our county Extension office and offered to volunteer. They had an all-girls club in town that needed a leader, and I said yes. Those girls became like family. They threw me the cutest baby shower when I was pregnant with my third child, Clay. They babysat my kids. Today, I still run into those amazing young women — working in our communities, and sometimes in the most unexpected places on my travels. Every time, my heart swells.
When my own kids started school, they wanted to join Clover Kids. I followed right along as a Clover Kids leader, and later as a regular 4-H club leader as they grew.
Most kids did not love presentations. (I understood that more than they knew.) But I think I learned more as an adult judging presentations than I ever did giving my own. Cookies. Roping goats. The history of Iowa. Easy snacks. Refinishing an old piece of furniture. In eighteen years as a 4-H leader, I never saw the same presentation twice. Every child brought something only they could bring.
I never showed livestock growing up, but my kids wanted to, so we jumped in with both feet. We started with show pigs, and my girls loved every minute of it. Unfortunately, with our hog barns at home, we couldn’t continue down the show pig road. We all cried that day.
 
Thankfully, wonderful families stepped in and helped us with show goats, bucket bottle calves and sheep. Show stock families deserve their own round of applause. Even with their own animals in the ring, they always made time for what felt like my “stupid” questions and shared advice on everything from feeding to show prep. That’s 4-H at its best: families cheering for someone else’s kids as hard as they cheer for their own.
And oh, the memories. Late nights at the kitchen table finishing projects. Talking through how a different crop would change a photograph using the rule of thirds. Write-ups and record books. Walking animals. Cold, dark mornings bottle feeding calves. Yes, tempers flared in that final week before county fair — most 4-H family’s knows that week. But the fun my kids had with their friends, the pride on their faces, the whole community gathered at the fairgrounds. Especially their grandparents and aunts and uncles who came to the fair to see their projects or sit ring side. Those are memories I hope they never forget.
Our kids have finished their 4-H journey now, and I’m no longer a club leader. But when I’m asked to give a presentation, teach a class or simply show up to help, I try to say yes. Some days my schedule won’t allow it. When it does, the answer is an immediate yes. I love what 4-H does for kids.
We are so fortunate in Washington County. Our kids are surrounded by volunteers who give their evenings and weekends, a fair board that works year-round, a county Extension staff that pours itself into our youth, and local businesses that show up again and again with sponsorships, auction bids and encouragement. That kind of support doesn’t happen everywhere. It happens here because people keep saying yes.
So this week, wear green. And then, if you can, do one thing more. Thank a 4-H volunteer. Stop by a club meeting. Offer to judge, teach a skill you know, or support a young exhibitor at the fair — whether they’re showing a market hog, a bucket calf, a photograph or a cake. And if there’s a quiet kid in your life who loves to create but doesn’t think they’re “fancy enough,” be their Kelly. 4-H isn’t just for country or farm kids. Ask them. Then ask again.
You never know whose purple ribbon is waiting on the other side of a yes.
Rachel Fishback, Founder & Host of Pork Industry News, is a former 18-year 4-H club leader and longtime volunteer in Washington County, Iowa. A special THANK YOU to Mark at the Washington Public Library for helping me find the Aug 1, 1997, picture on microfilm and color fixing the image. And Facebook for letting me house years of pictures in albums online.
