We filed quietly into the machine shed. Somewhere north of 700 farmers and small-town friends filled rows of seats and stood packed together along the walls. There was quiet conversation about how heartbroken we were for the family, and also, how’s harvest going for you guys?
“Pretty good til this week.”
Yes.
Then, the overhead door opened, and a Hiel Trucking semi pulled up, a single wooden casket on its flatbed. A group of young men brought it into the building as Nate Smith’s country song “Can You Die from a Broken Heart?” echoed out into the countryside. Those young pallbearers rolled their friend’s casket to the front, past all 700-plus people, and set it in front of shocks of corn and so many flowers and a Case IH Magnum Black Knight tractor, polished to a high shine.
I thought back a week prior, almost exactly, to when my husband called with the news.
Cayden Mahr was 23 years old and living his dream, farming with his brother Calen, running the combine when the hopper hooked an overhead wire. It was neutral but the one above it wasn’t. Cayden tried to unhook the machine but came in contact with both wires. He was killed instantly. His uncle tried to save him; he was injured but lived.
Absolute devastation, in a flash of light.
Full Story: What you can learn from 700 people in a machine shed by Holly Spangler, Prairie Farmer Senior Editor
