Namely, [farming's] fun! And connects you to nature! and all that happy horseshit that goes along with paying thousands of dollars to give young Brantley a true down-home farm experience. (As an aside: i had no idea summer camp was so expensive!).
See, whurr i’m from, a true farm experience consists of getting bussed to a vast field of juvenile corn at 5AM, where you board a harvester modified to carry ten pubescent boys standing abreast on a platform. The next eight hours are spent de-sexing row after row of male corn as the harvester speeds across the fields. Once the harvester runs out of gas, you spend the next three hours doing this on foot, in the middle of July. You return covered in tiny papercuts, stinking of adolescent b.o., diesel fuel, and fertilizer. It pays several dollars less than minimum wage (at the time, $5.15) since we are all underage… a shitty ass job, leavened mostly by the fact that agricultural labor of some sort is the only serious job a 13-year-old can legally hold.
This is what the French call nostalgie de la boue, or “nostalgia for the mud2.” It’s also the best explanation that I can come up with for the recent surge in camouflage in menswear–the only way you can reclaim camo as a fashion statement is to have absolutely zero prepubescent hunters/couples like this/purple camo-clad football fans3 in the area.
Scott also wonders “what the hell relatively affluent teenagers in urban areas do for work prior to the age of 16.” I think the answer is basically “nothing,” as the terrible job market has been crowding out teenagers for a while, and parents would rather have their children try to make it to college.