Meet 102-Year-Old Illinois Farmer Evertt Atkinson

From the day he was born on June 5, 1922, Evertt Atkinson spent his days on the farm. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Atkinson first came to know country life on his family’s farm in Jefferson County, where his parents raised dairy cows, hogs and four strong boys. In their fields, the family grew corn, oats, cowpeas, and redtop and timothy hay for the horses.

Farm-Fresh Memories

The decades have not dimmed Atkinson’s memories of life on the farm.

“On my seventh birthday, my dad turned me loose with a two-horse team to harrow the new corn that had just come up,” Atkinson recalls. “Later, as a puny 11-year-old with no tractor, I could plow all day in a 40-acre field with a 12-inch Rose Clipper plow behind a fast-stepping team and complete 1 acre. Following me, Dad kept the corners squared up nicely.”

One of Atkinson’s favorite childhood memories is both heart – and feet – warming.

“On early fall mornings, I remember going barefoot to get the cows and finding them still lying down in their nighttime bed,” he says. “When they got up, I would rush to where they had just been laying and briefly warm my frosty cold feet.”

Atkinson’s education began in a one-room schoolhouse. When he moved on to high school in Mt. Vernon, he hitched a ride to school as his father made morning milk deliveries. After school, he trekked the 7 miles home. Sadly, when he was just a freshman, Atkinson’s mother passed away. The 13-year-old quit school to help his father care for his three younger brothers.

In spite of life’s challenges, Atkinson discovered the rewards of hard work and a sense of purpose.

“Being part of a working farm was very satisfying. As the oldest of four boys, I felt I was an important part of our family farm,” says Atkinson, an Illinois Farm Bureau member for 77 years.

As he followed quite literally in the footsteps of America’s first farmers, small discoveries held great meaning for Atkinson.

“God blessed me with the privilege of finding arrowheads and tools left by Native Americans who were here before me,” Atkinson says. “They are priceless to me.”

Roots & Wings

Deeply rooted in southern Illinois, the only thing that ever called Atkinson away from his beloved home was war. In June 1942, at age 20, he enlisted in the U.S. Army Air Corps to serve his country during World War II. Atkinson quickly mastered the art of airplane mechanics and went on to become a pilot and flight instructor.

“At the peak of my formative years, I stumbled into The Greatest Generation,” reflects Atkinson, who earned the rank of first lieutenant. “I quickly went from one-horse buggies to the left airplane commander of the B-29 Superfortress with a 10-man crew.”

The war came to an end just as Atkinson and his crew were preparing to deploy to Guam. He happily returned to farm life – this time with his war bride, Doris McCauley Atkinson, by his side.

Despite the tumult of the war years, one thing remained the same.

“I was a farm boy when I went into the Army, and I came out a farm boy,” Atkinson says.

See more: Farmer Veteran’s Goal Remains to Serve People (VIDEO)

After the war, he worked on his father-in-law’s dairy farm until 1948, when he and Doris purchased the 100-acre Atkinson heritage farm. Dubbing the property Sycamore Farm, the couple started a retail dairy business and a family.

Growing up, the three Atkinson children – Ruth Ann, Rebecca and Dennis – came to know their father as a hardworking, happy, helpful man who cared deeply about family, farming and community.

In 1961, Atkinson began selling pole barns for Sturdi-Built part time. In 1965, after selling the dairy cows, the family remained on the farm and Atkinson began working full time for Sturdi-Built. He managed the company’s southern Illinois operations before retiring in 1989.

Eyewitness to Farming History

Few can appreciate the evolution of farming like Atkinson, who recalls sweating all day to plow less than 1 acre. Over the years, he has witnessed the emergence of large, powerful tractors, no-till farming and a surprising surge in soybeans.

“Soybeans were rarely in use in my day,” Atkinson says. “Back then, corn and cowpeas were a big thing. Plowing, disking and harrowing to make a seedbed are not commonly done these days, which has reduced susceptibility to erosion. And the big, powerful tractors we have today means much less time and less compaction on the soil.”

With wisdom to spare, he shares advice for the next generation of farmers.

“Hire on with a well-established farmer and watch their operation and read farm publications to discover new ideas and advances in farming,” says Atkinson, who also recommends taking a job serving a seed or fertilizer supplier. “You’ll have a steady job in a busy industry and meet a lot of caring people who know how it’s done properly.”

Cultivating Community

Today, Atkinson still calls Sycamore Farm home, and his brood has grown to include eight grandchildren, 10 great-grandchildren and one great-great-grandchild. He attributes his longevity and happiness to family, friends, farming and service.

“Volunteering with meaningful groups and spending time with family and lifelong friends has helped keep me young,” he says.

Over the years, the community-minded Atkinson volunteered his time and talents to church groups, the Jefferson County Historical Village & Museum, the hospice Veteran to Veteran program, the Experimental Aircraft Association program at the Mt. Vernon airport, the Commemorative Air Force, and other organizations.

See more: Farmer-Veteran Cultivates More Than Crops

Before Doris passed away in 2009, the couple enjoyed spending time in Arizona. But no place speaks to Atkinson’s soul like southern Illinois – fertile ground for a life well lived.

“Being part of one of the most important industries in the world means a lot to me,” Atkinson says. “It’s been a joy to work with my family and pass on my knowledge and appreciation for the land to my children and grandchildren.”

With roots that run deeper than most, Atkinson treasures every new day for the gift that it is.

“At 102 and counting, I no longer call the days of the week by name,” Atkinson says. “Rather, when I open my eyes each day, I pronounce it to be ‘another’ day, which I celebrate with my remaining friends and family.”