loan after loan. Good farmers. Honest men. Men whose fathers and grandfathers had worked the same land for a hundred years. They’d come in with their hats in their hands and their best shirts on, and some young man in a suit would look at their boots and their hands and say no.
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One afternoon in 1967, my own father went in for a loan.
He needed eight thousand dollars to replace his milking equipment. The old system had broken down. Without new equipment, he’d have to sell the






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