The minutes and hours would creep by as I waited and waited, looking out the window every three minutes, listening for the sound of a truck to drive up in the farm yard. My complete agony would turn into bliss in an instant when I saw the big straight truck arrive to pick up our cattle to head to the county fair.

When I was young, move-in day for the fair was one of the best days of the year. I can’t tell you how excited I used to get as Gleason Stage ambled out of his truck, spit his tobacco juice out of his full mouth and walked around the back of the truck to get ready to load cattle.

He would pull out the ramp, slide those rickety white gates into the holes on it and we were ready to lead our heifers up that steep incline and onto the truck.

We had a great time at the county fair and our dairy tents were overflowing with cattle, but I had no idea why until recently, when I began to research the history of Holsteins in our state in preparation for the National Holstein Convention in Traverse City in June.

Livingston County was known as the “cradle of the Holstein breed.” In 1881, Michigan formed the first state Holstein association in the nation, four years before the national association was formed.

And in 1915, Livingston County had 250 members in the Michigan Holstein Assoc., 125 of those were members of the national group and it was one of three of the largest “breeding centers” in the nation.

Michigan had the first cow to milk more than 100 pounds a day on an official test, had the first state institution to establish a purebred Holstein herd – Eastern Michigan Asylum, later known as Pontiac State Hospital – and held the first sale of the breed to average more than $1,000, the national convention sale in 1916.

And of course, it had the well-known Green Meadow Lily Pabst, owned by Green Meadow Farms in Elsie – the first cow to produce 42,000 pounds in one lactation. That was in 1951, and is an amazing record still today.

As I think back at those days of sitting on our tack boxes on those hot July afternoons and the countless games of cards we played with our farm friends from across the county, little did I know I was in the epicenter of history. The dads and grandfathers I only knew as Mr. Robb and Mr. Bamber and Mr. Donal were actually the leaders of an industry that would one day serve as my livelihood.

This is the moment I wish I could go back and say “Thank you” for keeping this industry alive for those who came behind you. May we keep it thriving for those following us.

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of Farm World. Readers with questions or comments for Melissa Hart may write to her in care of this publication.