07/09/2025
✌🏼🤍🍀
I got a white ribbon once for my Snickerdoodle cookies. I was 7.
If you’re familiar with 4-H, you know a white ribbon is the worst—last place.
This was pre-4-H in the late 80s. Not long after, they gave all pre-4-H kids those multicolored participation ribbons that said, “Good job for trying.”
But I didn’t get that. I got a white.
You got that part.
I deserved the white. The judge found a hair in my cookie, which is disgusting, and she told me so.
At age 7.
I went on to earn many ribbons in many colors throughout my 4-H career. Sometimes, I got first, but I usually placed somewhere in the middle, which was perfectly fine with me.
I loved 4-H, but I especially enjoyed the socializing part. A farm kid who likes to chat can get lonely in summer, so I longed for those few days in late July or early August when I got to step onto the small-town fairgrounds and be surrounded by friends, animals, funnel cakes, and laughter.
I learned, at a very early age, how to work.
I stood before adults who asked tough questions about my show animals, sewing masterpieces, and baked goods.
I woke up early and stayed up late to finish projects and care for livestock.
I learned how to serve others and my community.
I cheered for friends when they earned the top prize and learned quickly how to lose gracefully.
Gosh, it was a great way to grow up.
The smell of Dawn dish soap still reminds me of washing my lamb on those hot summer days, and the sounds of carnival rides will forever keep me young.
And still, to this day, before I bake anything in my kitchen, I make sure my hair is pulled back so nothing falls into the batter.
Good luck to all the 4-H and FFA kids spending the next few weeks on your county fairgrounds. You don’t know it now, but it’s some of the best days of your childhood.
And if you get a white, don’t worry—it builds character.
-Leslie Means
