On Monday, January 20, this community lost an old friend. Jim Steed, a lifelong resident of Creemore, was born south of the village on June 4, 1938. He passed away at his home on 10 Hill, just north of Creemore, where he lived with his wife, Marilyn, and raised two daughters, Barb and Shirley.
Reverend Glen Eagle, who presided over Jim’s funeral service at St. John’s United Church on Thursday, January 23, told the congregation that Jim had two goals: one was to farm for 50 years and the other was to make it to 50 years of marriage. Last summer, he celebrated both.
With Jim’s passing came many stories about his life, his farm and this community. In his eulogy, Jim’s friend John Miller said:
Monday, January 20 was 50-and-a-half years to the day that Jim and Marilyn moved onto their new farm and started their farming career. Purchased in 1963, they started milking cows and shipping fluid milk for nine years before selling the herd in 1972 and changing to beef. Jim even had pigs for a short time, but Jim and the pigs didn’t see eye to eye – and the pigs left!
Jim loved the beef industry. He grew his beef enterprise with great ambition and hard work. He was very good at finishing steers. He entered into the cow and calf business with purebred Limisin cattle and sat on the Board of Directors for the Limisin association. At the Stock Yard, Jim won several championships for his quality cattle.
Jim was a community leader who was on the Executive of Junior Farmers, both local and county, President of the SCFA, a founding member of the Creemore Lions Club and a 4-H leader of the Beef Club. When bovine spongiform encephalopathy hit the area, Jim organized a meeting to bring media and political attention to the crisis.
Jim was known far and wide. You couldn’t find a machinery dealer in Ontario who didn’t know Jim. He was not afraid of trying something different. He harvested hay for silage, he did square bails for a while, he round-baled hay and in the past few years he also wrapped his hay. However, Marilyn said if his machinery didn’t run right in the first fifteen minutes, then it was gone.
This past corn harvest was trouble-free. He commented to Marilyn that the combine ran well and he didn’t get a wagon stuck. He was very pleased. Maybe that had a lot to do with how proud Jim was to have his grandson, Cameron, working on the farm with him. Jim was immensely proud of all of his grandchildren.
Jim was a horse lover, a fence viewer for the Township and he loved to curl at the Creemore Curling Club. Apparently, Jim was also a speeder in the car. I think he also thought rules were made to be broken.
On Monday, Jim headed up to heaven to be with his best farmer buddies. There is a lot to talk about…and the stories that will be told will be out of this world.
After the funeral, Paul Dyck, a neighbour of the Steeds, sent this message to the Echo:
I wasn’t surprised that there was such a large crowd at the Fawcett Funeral Home to pay their respects to Jim Steed on Wednesday night, or that it took an hour in the reception line before getting a chance to give his wife, Marilyn, a hug. In his quiet way, he must have touched a lot of people in the 75 years he lived in the Creemore area, including our family.
We have known the Steeds for two and half years since we bought the school house next to their property. They made us feel welcome right away, inviting us to the annual 10 Hill party that they were hosting at their farm a few weeks after we moved in. Our young son Liam took to Jim because he let him feed snacks to the dog, and had big farm machinery and cows in his yard. Liam often waved to “Farmer Steed” as he drove by on one of his machines, either alone or with his dog, Max, beside him to keep him company.
I’m sure we provided Jim with fodder for stories to share with his buddies about “those folks from the city.” Last summer, my son and I wanted to grow some giant pumpkins so we went next door to the Steed’s farm looking for fertilizer. We knocked on the door and asked him if we could have a bucket of manure. Not a problem. He went into the barn, started up the skid and gave my son a lift to the far side of the barn where he took a big scoop of his best dung.
“I’ll run it up to your place,” Jim said, “Where do you want it?” That’s when I held up my plastic five-gallon “bucket” and proceeded to fill it with a few scoops of my spade. He was too polite to make any jokes or even roll his eyes. He just turned that skid around and dumped the rest back on the pile.
We came to Creemore not only because of the beautiful scenery and year-round things to do, but also to give our son an appreciation for rural life, where our food comes from, and the hard-working people who grow and raise it. We could not have asked for a kinder, better role model for a neighbour than Jim Steed. We’ll miss him greatly