Fred Abels

no-till farmer using cover crops since 2009, corn, soybeans, beef cow-calf operation

[Fred Abels @AbelsFred]

@Iowamom7 And Beryl Ives singing away

[Fred Abels @AbelsFred]

@DisrespectedThe elderly mother was in the car. Finally do we need the police to come and take pictures of your car? She replied the bus didn't hit my car, just made me back up. End of phone call.

[Fred Abels @AbelsFred]

@DisrespectedThe I have the same thing with a intersection with the school bus in town. I can't make the corner if someone is sitting there and I need them to back up. One lady was so pissed she called the superintendt and he referred her to the transportation director. He let her talk, saying

[Banned Vids @VidsBanned]

Karma is crazy 😂

[Lance Gooden @Lancegooden]

President @realDonaldTrump works 12-hour days.

Meanwhile, The New York Times released a fake news report claiming POTUS shows “signs of fatigue.”

Where was the NYT when Joe Biden spent 577 days on vacation?

[Blake Duchek @BDuchek]

Anybody interested in 3-4 b train loads of oats that got contaminated with fire burnt kernels when our grain dryer burnt? Esterhazy SK. #AgTwitter

[Cattleman🪓 @cattleguy92]

Well boxed beef was UP AGAIN today. Fats were down again today.

The quickest way to mitigate it all is to find a local rancher and buy directly from them.

It’s logistically tough in places but the more we can do that then the better off our country will be. 🥩🥩🇺🇸

[Mr PitBull Stories @MrPitbull07]

"My name's Hank. I'm 66. I deliver propane to homes. Rural routes, farms, folks off the grid. I fill their tanks, check connections, drive to the next house. Most customers just sign the slip, barely look up. I'm just the propane guy.

But last February, during that brutal cold snap, I noticed something at the Miller place.
Pulled up to fill their tank, gauge showed empty. Completely dry. In 15-degree weather.
I knocked on the door. Mrs. Miller answered, three kids bundled behind her in coats. Inside the house.

"Ma'am, your tank's bone dry. How long you been without heat?"
"Four days." Her voice was steady, but her hands shook. "Bill's due Friday. We're waiting on my husband's paycheck."
Four days. Three kids. Fifteen degrees.
"Ma'am, I'm filling it now."
"I can't pay until"
"I'll mark it as a delivery error. Computer glitch. Nobody'll know."
She started crying. "Why would you do this?"
"Because those kids are wearing coats inside."

I filled their tank. Checked the furnace. Made sure heat kicked on before I left.
Drove away thinking about what I'd seen. Kids doing homework in winter jackets. A mom choosing between heat and food.

Started paying attention different after that. The elderly veteran whose tank was at 10%, he was rationing, keeping one room warm. The single dad whose payment was two weeks late, he'd been burning firewood he couldn't really afford.

I started doing something I shouldn't. When I saw someone struggling, someone who'd run out, someone rationing heat—I'd add 50 gallons. Mark it as "meter calibration" or "pressure test residual."
Small amounts. Enough to get them through.

Did it eleven times that winter. My boss noticed the discrepancies. Called me in.
"Hank, we're showing extra gallons delivered but not billed."
I told him the truth. Everything.

He stared at me for a long time. Then said, "My daughter was a single mom once. Chose between heat and groceries every winter. I wished someone had helped her."

He didn't fire me. Instead, he created something, "Warm Hearts Emergency Fund." Customers could donate. We'd match it. Use it for families in crisis who couldn't afford propane.

But here's what broke me, Mrs. Miller came to our office in May. She'd gotten a better job, caught up on bills.
She handed me an envelope. Inside, $200.

"For the next family. The one you'll find in February, four days without heat, trying to be brave for their kids."
She grabbed my hands. "Hank, my youngest has asthma. Four more days in that cold... I don't know if..." She couldn't finish.

Last winter, the Warm Hearts Fund helped 23 families. Not with handouts, with heat when they had none. With dignity when they felt broken.

And here's the thing, other propane companies heard about it. Started their own programs. Now there are "emergency heat funds" in six states.

But the moment that destroyed me happened last month. Got a call to deliver to an address I recognized, the Miller place.

Mrs. Miller answered. "Hank! Come in, please."
Inside, warm, kids doing homework at the table, laughing. She handed me a check. Full payment, plus extra.
"For the fund. But also..." She pulled out a drawing her youngest had made. Stick figure man with a propane truck. Caption in crayon: "Mr. Hank, my hero."

"She asks about you every winter. 'Is Mr. Hank making sure people are warm?'"
I'm 66. I deliver propane to houses nobody notices.

But I learned this- Cold doesn't wait for paychecks. And no child should do homework in a winter coat inside their own home.
So if you deliver anything, oil, propane, firewood, and you see someone struggling, someone empty, someone rationing,
Find a way. Mark it wrong. Call your boss. Start a fund. Do something.
Because heat isn't a luxury. It's survival.
And the difference between freezing and living shouldn't be whether your paycheck arrived on time.
Be the reason someone stays warm."
.
Let this story reach more hearts....
.
Ai image is for Demonstration purpose only
.
Credit: Mary Nelson

[Fred Abels @AbelsFred]

@WillMacArthur3 Awesome, I did standing corn grazing almost 20 years ago now. Sometimes moving the fence was a bitch in the snow. We fall calved back then, and the calves would sneak under the electric fence, get into the next paddocks.

[Fred Abels @AbelsFred]

@3furrowsjd @DEWALTtough I've got a 1/2 impact, unreal what it can do. I bet that one twists your wrist off.

[Fred Abels @AbelsFred]

@cattleguy92 @GaryClawsosdkj Good answer.

[Fred Abels @AbelsFred]

@grassncows I left my cornstalks tall, let the assholes have a rough ride.

[Rosita Díaz @RositaDaz48]

A Chinese doctor moved to the U.S. and couldn't find a job at a hospital. So he opened a small clinic and put up a bold sign that read:

“Cure for $20 — If you’re not cured, get $100 back!”

One day, a clever American lawyer saw the sign. “This looks like a scam,” he thought, “but maybe I can make a quick $100!” He walked in, feeling confident.

Lawyer: “Doctor, I’ve lost my sense of taste.”

Doctor: “Nurse, Box 22 — three drops in his mouth.”

Lawyer: “Ugh! That’s kerosene!”

Doctor: “Perfect! Your taste is back. That’ll be $20.”

A few days later, the lawyer came back.

Lawyer: “Doctor, I’ve lost my memory. I can’t remember anything.”

Doctor: “Nurse, Box 22 — three drops.”

Lawyer: “Wait! That’s kerosene again!”

Doctor: “Wonderful! Your memory is restored. That’s $20.”

Still determined, the lawyer tried one last time.

Lawyer: “Doctor, my eyesight is failing. I can’t see a thing!”

Doctor: “Ah, sorry — no cure for that. Here’s your $100.”

The doctor handed him… $20.

Lawyer (squinting): “Hey, wait a minute — this is only $20!”

Doctor: “Fantastic! Your eyesight is back. That’ll be $20.”

[Crazy Vibes @CrazyVibes_1]

The hardware store closes at 6 p.m. It's 5:58 p.m. when the kid walks in.

Tom's been sweeping the same aisle for ten minutes, ready to lock up. Seventy years old, feet aching, one more hour until he can sit down at home.

The kid can't be more than sixteen. Soaking wet from the rain. Shaking.

"We're closing," Tom says, not unkindly.

"Please. I just need... I need a lock. For a door."

Something in the kid's voice. Terror. Desperation.

Tom stops sweeping. "What kind of lock?"

"I don't know. Just... one that works. That keeps people out."

The kid's got a black eye. Fresh. The kind that's still swelling.

Tom doesn't ask. Just walks to aisle seven. Shows him the locks. The kid reaches for the cheapest one. $8.99.

"That one's garbage," Tom says. "Won't stop anyone determined."

He hands him a deadbolt. Heavy duty. $34.99.

The kid's face crumbles. "I only have twelve dollars."

They stand there. Rain drumming on the roof. Store empty except for them.

Tom takes the deadbolt to the register. Rings it up. "Twelve dollars."

"But,"

"Sale price. Today only."

The kid knows. Knows there's no sale. Knows this old man is lying. Tries not to cry and fails.

Tom bags it. Adds a screwdriver. Free.

"You know how to install it?"

The kid shakes his head.

"You got twenty minutes?"

They drive in Tom's truck. Don't talk. The kid directs him to a rundown duplex on the east side. Upstairs apartment. Door frame cracked. Old lock broken, hanging loose.

Tom installs the deadbolt. Takes him fifteen minutes. Tests it. Solid.

Hands the kid both keys.

"Someone tries to get in, you call 911. You hear me?"

The kid nods.

Tom's halfway to his truck when he hears it, "Why?"

He turns around. The kid's standing in the doorway, backlit, holding those keys like they're made of gold.

"Why did you help me?"

Tom thinks about his own son. Twenty years ago. Different city. Same desperate eyes. Didn't make it.

"Because you asked," Tom says simply.

He drives home. Doesn't tell his wife. Doesn't think about it much.

Three weeks pass.

A woman comes into the store. Forty, maybe. Tired eyes but smiling. "Are you Tom?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"My son told me about you. The lock you sold him." She's crying now. "His father... my ex-husband... he's not a good man. That lock kept us safe until I could get the restraining order. Until we could breathe."

She hands Tom an envelope. "It's not much. But it's the thirty dollars we owed you, plus a little more."

Tom tries to refuse. She won't let him.

"You didn't just sell him a lock," she says. "You saw him. You saw us. When we were invisible."

After she leaves, Tom opens the envelope. Sixty dollars. And a note from the kid:

"Installed three more locks for neighbors who needed them. Taught myself how. Going to trade school next year. Maybe I'll work in a hardware store someday. Be someone like you. -Marcus"

Tom's manager notices him crying by the register.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Tom says. "Just... yeah."

That night, Tom stays two minutes past closing. Then five. Then ten.

Just in case someone walks in at 5:58 p.m.

Soaking wet.

Desperate.

Needing more than just a lock.

Because he learned something,

The last customer of the day might be the most important one you ever serve."

.

[Fred Abels @AbelsFred]

@FredButt6 @cvic13 Are you close to Starved Rock? We stayed at the lodge there, a neat place.

[aka @akafaceUS]

$5,000,000 in cash was reportedly discovered at the home of a Ukrainian politician.

This is where our tax dollars went.

[Fred Abels @AbelsFred]

@SecRollins Ag businesses pass the costs on to the farmer. Don't let them kid you.

[MAGA Voice @MAGAVoice]

HOLY SHT 🚨 This young black man in the military said it PERFECTLY: “if you don’t like America go to another country b*tch. I love this country I protect this b*tch”

BY FAR THE BEST VIDEO ON 𝕏 🔥