Change. Seems few things remain the same these days. People say change is good but that's not always true. Not long ago I read about 25 things about to disappear in the United States. Some will surprise you. Some you will be glad to see go, and some, well, I wonder how we'll adjust once they're gone. The changes are due mainly to the Internet and better technologies. Very quickly here are some things are about to pass into that realm known as history.

The Post Office, Yellow Pages, classified ads, movie rental stores, dial-up Internet access, telephone land lines, VCRs, ham radio, swimming holes, answering machines, cameras that use film, incandescent bulbs, hand-written letters, personal checks, TV news programs, and analog TV. At the top of the list is something that will surprise some while others will shake their head and say it's a shame, and it is. The family farm.

Since the 1930's, the numbers of family farms has been dropping rapidly. Information from the US Department of Agriculture says we had 5.3 million farms in 1950. Today we have a shade over 2 million. (The US Census defines a farm as any establishment that produced or sold more than $1,000 worth of agricultural products in a year.)

Family farmers are being forced out of business at an alarming rate. According to Farm Aid, 330 farmers leave their land every week. As family farms shut down, most are not replaced. Very few young people become farmers today, and half of all U.S. farmers are between the ages of 45 and 65, while only 6 percent of all farmers are under the age of 35. The old guard of lifelong, reliable farmers is about to leave us. Then what?

And what of their land? Farmland, once left fallow forever, often becomes something else. If I drive past Golf De L down Double Branches way a million times, I'll still see green pastures and grazing cows instead of tees, greens, and fairways. All my life it was pastureland and I can't shake that memory nor do I want to.

Most of us have a connection with the land. The connection between farming and the fridge is vague at best for many these days, but farming long reigned as the South's major economic way of life and to understand the South you had to understand farming—the backbone of life for many Southerners. Things changed, of course, not just in the South but all across the country. Farms shrank in numbers but expanded in acreage. Rather than being a personal mission, farming became routine, simplified, mechanized ... large farms absorbed small farms, and farming assumed a new title—Agribusiness.

In the face of this change, a lot of small farmers called it quits and they continue to do so. Every single minute of every day, America loses two acres of farmland, but a remarkable thing is nonetheless happening.

Farming's mystique pulls hard, and a deep-rooted love of the soil is driving some Americans to take up farming late in life, despite its economic perils, which Mark Twain expressed s only he could: "There are three easy ways of losing money— racing is the quickest, women the most pleasant, and farming the most certain."

Well, maybe not so certain with a lot of dedication and hard work. That old, familiar saying, "The farmer's day is never done" has never rung truer than it does for men who are beating briefcases into plowshares, men, who, unmindful of Mark Twain's counsel, take risks others shrink away from. These farmers pursue farming in innovative ways.

Across the Savannah over in Taylors, South Carolina, not far from Greenville, you'll find one of these brave souls. Dick Perdue went from a company known for produce and fruit packaging technology to growing fruit. Today, his Perdue's Mountain Fruit Farm in northern Greenville County delights patrons with fresh fruit and farming wisdom.

Dick studied at the State University of New York's Food Technology program. He continued his food science studies at the University of Georgia. There, he met Betty Jean Glass, his "wonderful wife and life-long partner."

Perdue left UGA in 1956 and joined Cryovac as a salesman. He spent his last eight years with Cryovac as director of Market and New Business Development. He retired in 1973 and was ready to grow a line-up of delicious fruits: apples, peaches, nectarines, plums, prunes, standard pears, Asian pear apples, bunch grapes, blackberries, and raspberries.

Perdue chose a spot for his orchards along the Cherokee Foothills Scenic Highway (Highway 11). He saw a promising blend of climate, geography, and customers there and began planting fruit trees long before retiring from Cryovac.

Like other farmers, Perdue seeks to teach those pulling off Highway 11 something about the origins of their food. Call it "Agritourism" if you will. Perdue offers educational farm tours for elementary school classes, senior citizens, and family groups.

"One of my weaknesses," said Perdue, "is that once something works successfully, I get bored and want to move on to something that doesn't work. I guess you could say 'Dick Perdue has spent his whole life working on things that don't work and is still doing that today.' "

Stop by Perdue's Mountain Fruit Farm, and you'll disagree with that statement. He does know what works. His fresh fruit and preserved fruit are as good as they get. And they should be. In 2001, he earned the Institute of Food Technologists World Industrial Food Scientist of the Year honor. But you could say the orchard life was scripted early on for Dick Perdue. As a 15-year-old boy, he cooked jelly in a Welsh's factory. Now he operates a jewel of an orchard jewel, one yielding fruits common and uncommon, just off Scenic Highway 11.

For years, men left farming to work odd city jobs. Now some men are dropping city-like careers to farm. Farming, thank goodness, still draws some folks closer to the earth. And maybe that is what farming's mystique is about—getting close enough to the earth to draw life from it. We're richer by far thanks to the men and women who follow farming's call, folks who roll up their sleeves and get some rich dirt on their hands. Good for them. They put good things on our table, and that's something for which we all are thankful.

Email Tom with feedback and ideas for new columns. tompol @earthlink.net