Ringgold, GA |
Around here, the day still starts with a ride across the farm. There are pastures to check, land to look over, and work that never really goes away. For Bernard Sims, this has been home for decades. And while one leadership chapter is coming to a close, he says the timing was right.
“My mind’s good, but my body’s beginning to fail me. It was time to get out of the way and let somebody younger come on and take care of it,” Sims said.
But stepping away from a board position doesn’t mean Bernard is stepping away from agriculture. The farm is still very much a part of his daily life — even if these days, he’s quick to point out, he’s more or less an onlooker.
“I have a son that actually runs the operation now. I just work with them wherever they need me. If they need me to drive something, that’s what I do,” Sims said. “Physically, I’m not able to do as much as I used to — by far.”
That work ethic was forged early. After a couple years of college and a stint working in a foundry, Sims decided there was a better way to live — and came back to start dairying. That decision shaped nearly four decades of his life, defined by early mornings, long hours, and work that doesn’t take days off.
“When I started, we were raising about sixty-five calves. And as time went on, you either had to get bigger or get out — and now the dairies are huge. The mechanization’s come along to help them too,” Sims said.
While many know Bernard Sims for his years of service with Georgia Farm Bureau, his foundation was never built in a meeting room or around a board table. It was built here — through early mornings, long days, and a life spent doing the work himself.
Eventually, Bernard and his family made the move out of dairy and into sod farming. Part of that decision was business, part of it was timing, and part of it was watching the world around his farm slowly start to change.
“We began to get so many neighbors. We had never had any problems, but it seemed like it was coming,” Sims said. “And I felt like it was time for us to get into something else while we still could manage it ourselves — without being forced or told what to do with it. I had two sons with me, and to support three families, I didn’t think we had enough land at the time to do it with traditional farming. The only thing I could see was sod farming — and it has worked out well for us.”
Still, Bernard worries about what farming is becoming — not because agriculture isn’t moving forward, but because the farming life he knew is getting harder to find. Even so, the work itself remains a source of deep satisfaction.
“I just love being out here on the farm. I see so many young men coming in here to talk, and they look at me and say, ‘You still working?’ And I say, ‘Yeah — the good Lord said be productive. And that’s what I’m trying to do,'” Sims said with a laugh.
For Bernard Sims, the chapter titles may be changing, but the story — the one written in early mornings, long days, and a lifetime of love for the land — is far from over.