Finding Farmers
CARLISLE — Sonya Rinker was looking for a guy: someone who was kind, respectful and had a special place in his heart ... for tractors.
She wanted a man who could share the thrill of a good tractor-pull show, who could see beauty in a shiny row of green and yellow John Deere tractors.
She didn't know that somewhere along these rolling Pennsylvania hills, there was such a man, a shy guy named Tom with two vintage Deere tractors. He had been looking for a gal, someone who'd put up with his milking cows at 3 a.m. and his six-day work weeks.
Sonya Rinker and Tom Henisee lived 57 miles apart when they both signed up for an online matchmaking service designed to link up people just like them — farmers and others who know their way around a barn and a milking machine.
Playing the dating game isn't easy in rural America: Tens of thousands of twentysomethings have moved out in recent decades, small towns have shrunk, younger farmers have become a dwindling commodity. Or to put it another way ... there's a lot of land and not that many people.
Sonya was just 24, but already worried. She was eager to find a mate.
"I was dead set on it," she said. "I was getting a farmer or someone who had the same interests as me, and I couldn't find any around here. I was getting tired of being by myself."
Tom had been searching for someone on the matchmaking service for eight months — without much luck. He was ready to call it quits.
But when they saw each other's profiles online, they began e-mailing. He was 2JD (John Deere) Tractors. She was Cowgirlup1582 (for her birthday.)
For seven months, they exchanged e-mails, first names only.
Then they traded phone numbers and talked for 13 straight days.
Finally, it was time to meet.
Rural America is peaceful and bucolic. But it also can be lonely and isolating.The nearest neighbor might be two miles away. Work often starts before dawn and ends after sunset. And knowing everyone in town is great — unless you're looking for someone new to date.Jerry Miller, an Ohio publicist whose clients include alpaca breeders, began thinking about all this after he spoke with a divorced farmer who said she was scared she'd never meet anyone else. She worked long hours, didn't have time to socialize and already knew everybody at church.Miller sensed a void — and a business opportunity, too. After doing some research, he founded an online matchmaking service, FarmersOnly (which despite its name, is not limited to those who plant the corn and till the soil).Since it began in late 2005, this entry in the e-love business has attracted more than 85,000 people from across the nation, Miller said.A modest fee of $30 for three months buys a profile and a photo posted to an online site.So far, more than 40 couples have married, Miller said. They have been young, middle-age and elderly. First-timers, divorcees and widows.These "successes" have no pattern. Sometimes, two people just click.This is how it happens.
On their first date, it was Sonya and Tom. And Pap.Sonya's grandfather was a chaperone, sitting quietly in the back of her Jeep until they reached the Bonanza steakhouse, where the retired farmer chatted with Tom — about tractors, of course."He just took to Tom right away," Sonya said. "They just hit it off. He thought Tom was a good kid."Tom didn't mind Pap's presence. "It's all about trust," he said. "Her mother didn't want her to go by herself, and I understood that."The two had already exchanged photos — early on. When Tom sent her a full-bearded shot, Sonya told him he looked like a mountain man and urged him to shave. He did, sending her a clean-cut image. She pasted before and after pictures in a photo album chronicling their courtship.But photos only capture so much, and when the two met, there were surprises.Sonya's first impression: "He was too short."Tom's: "She was a big girl. (I thought) Are you sure you want to date her?"But they had much in common: close families, a love of the land and of animals. As teens, both had shown animals at 4-H fairs.Though Sonya works in an insurance office, she has 11 goats, chickens and a heifer named Katrina. She also helps Tom with milking chores on the weekend."I know he isn't afraid to get dirty," she said. "I'm not a prissy little girl."She also is no wallflower. That appeals to Tom."I was just overwhelmed by how easy it was to talk with her," he said. "I have problems talking with people. For some reason, it really clicked with her. It's like it was meant to be."Pap died last summer. Soon after, when the couple stopped in to check on his place, Tom had a surprise prepared: He told her it was time to bring some new happy memories to the house, then presented Sonya with a ring, got down on one knee and proposed.She said yes.
Al Falzerano wanted a partner on the prairie. His wife of 52 years had died, and he longed for someone to go with to town, to share long winter evenings on his South Dakota ranch.When he heard a radio commercial about the matchmaking service, he decided to give it a whirl."I'd bought cars and trucks on the Internet," he said. "I thought ... maybe I can get a woman, too."Al was 76, but fit enough to do ranch work."I wasn't done living yet — I figured I could go on for quite a while," he said. "And I didn't want to live by myself. It's no fun being out here alone."In his profile, he said he wanted "an honest lady who is a Christian" — someone who can "make my life complete."More than 1,000 miles away, near Smithville, Ohio, Margaret Hoff was also in the market for love.She described herself as a "kind, loving and giving" Christian woman. "It would be so nice to meet someone to share my life with," she wrote.Margaret, a widow, hadn't received any replies until Al got in touch, first by e-mail, then phone, telling her he was going to be nearby (in Pennsylvania) buying a car he had acquired on eBay.He made her an offer: Help him drive back to his South Dakota ranch and check it out. If she liked it, fine. If not, he'd buy her a ticket home.First, Margaret said no, she was going to church camp. Then she reconsidered. She thought he looked natty in his photo, decked out in a cowboy hat and Western-style shirt."I was just thinking I wouldn't have another chance," she said. "I was just waiting for the Lord to dump somebody in my lap. I thought I have to take a chance and pray about it. When I found out he went to the same kind of church (Assembly of God), everything just fell into place."Al drove to Margaret's house and met some of her family. Three days later, she packed some clothes and her accordion and the two great-grandparents headed off in his new white Lincoln."We drove straight through 24 hours — no motel or anything," she said. "We just laughed and had so much fun. Even before we got to Rapid City, we were talking about marriage."So they stopped there, and Al bought Margaret a silver-and-diamond ring. Then they drove another 65 miles to his ranch outside Newell.Eight days later, on Aug. 2, 2006, they married in church with his daughter and her nephew as witnesses. They celebrated with strawberry shortcake.Margaret, now 66, said her children wondered if this all took place too fast. She told them not to worry."We're just getting older," she said, "and I guess we knew we were made for each other.""When you get as old as I am," chimes in Al, "you kind of know what you want."The Falzeranos live on a remote 320-acre spread with 100 calves and cows. They watch TV and movies, go out to dinner, frequent farm auctions and attend Bible study classes on Friday mornings. Margaret also likes to whip up beef and noodles, mashed potatoes and New York cheesecake.And on Tuesday nights, they venture out to prepare for the next chapter in their lives.They're planning to become foster parents.
