ASHTON — Life on a family farm has always been filled with hard work and long hours, but it’s also a life filled with memories made in fields and farmhouses alike, by families forged from a shared dedication and devotion to living off the land — and if they were fortunate enough, turning the land into a livelihood.

North of Ashton — particularly, LaFayette Township in Ogle County — the family behind a farm there has been one of the ones fortunate enough to do just that. For more than 150 years, the land has been a way of life for the Chapman Family, who are carrying on a legacy that began with John R. Chapman in the 1860s — but like the industry they’re in, they’ve had to learn to grow to do it. These days, time and toil alone aren’t enough.

“It’s become different,” said Stephen Chapman, who represents the sixth generation of Chapmans on the family farm. “It used to be that you could work hard and then work your way out of most situations, but that’s really not the way it is anymore. You got to be on top with it and sharp with your pencil and your plans.”

Stephen — named after his grandfather, who died in 2015 — does much of the farming these days, having taken over from his father David and uncle Brad. His grandma Brenda continues to live on the farm, as does David. The elder Stephen’s father, Phillips, farmed up until the mid-1900s and his father Emmerson operated it around the turn of the 20th century. Today, the family raises grain, cattle and chickens, and some apple trees remain from when the fruit was an important part of the operation many decades ago.

Being more aware and strategic in planning to sustain the multi-generational farm’s success weighs heavy on Stephen’s mind, and he sometimes wonders how his ancestors kept the farm — once called Willow Farm — going more than a century ago. “You’d love to talk with your ancestors to ask them what drove them and what kept them going,” he said.

Emmerson was the nephew of John, who had two girls who died at an early age. Emmerson’s father, Madison, served in the Civil War and died two years after its conclusion from injuries he sustained in it.

Stephen’s young daughters with his wife Amanda carry on their ancestors’ legacies through their names, Madison and Emmerson, representing the seventh generation and performing small tasks such as filling the farm’s sweet corn and egg stands.

“They love to help,” their father said. “They love riding in the tractors and love checking cows. They’ll be involved, but you just never know.”

The Chapmans attribute much of their success to their commitment to hard work — but that doesn’t mean they haven’t been able to carve out time to unwind, like playing sports or games like Cowboys and Indians, which is what Brad and David did a lot when they were young, just a few of the fond memories the family shares.

“It’s work, but it’s fun,” said Brenda, who continues to perform light errands on the farm. “It’s a team effort to make this place work. The kids had a lot of fun on the farm. Their friends always wanted to come to the farm.”

The free-roaming nature of growing up on a farm sometimes made it challenge to get used to hanging out with friends in town, David said, where businesses and buildings weren’t as much fun as barns in the back forty.

Even with all the joy and freedom that came from growing up on the farm, the Chapmans never lost sight of the challenges that came with it, each year a test of their patience and grit.

“There’s a lot of great times and there’s a lot of challenging times,” David said. “The perseverance that you have to have year in and year out, whether you’re successful or having a bad year, you just got to persevere. If you raise a cow and see one of its calves die as soon as it’s born, you keep going. You just endure and keep going. You have dry years, you have good years. It’s just a way of life. A lot of people would probably give up, but it’s just not in our blood to give up.”

It’s also not in their blood to dwell on the downsides; farmers can’t afford it, Brad said.

“As kids, you complain about having to work harder than anybody else, like the town kids, but eventually as an adult, that’s instilled in you,” Brad said. “Only until you reflect on all of the time that’s passed, and how quickly it’s passed, do you realize what it is that you are accomplishing. You don’t think of each individual task, and if you did, you’d go crazy. You’re taught your morals and your ethics to just work hard and push through it.”

These days, Brad and David have pulled back somewhat from their farm duties as they’ve gotten older, but they still enjoy watching how the current crop of Chapmans are keeping the farm healthy. Brad says he’s proud of the way Stephen is handling the farm’s finances, admitting his nephew’s doing a lot better than him. When Stephen took over, he reduced the farm’s debt and sought help from other growers to help keep the farm going.

That steady work ethic has carried through each generation, shaping how the Chapmans approach both their labor and their legacy.

“It’s a unique thing that a lot of people don’t have the privilege to experience,” Stephen said. “You have to like it, and it can be very fulfilling and rewarding. There’s not many lifestyles that are also a career. There’s not many careers where you can start something, finish something, and see the fruits of your labor. Most people have jobs with one specific workflow, or one specific part of an entire process, but when you’re farming, you get to do the whole thing, literally from seed to harvest.”

Brad and David’s sister Teresa Davidson no longer lives on the farm and is a nurse for the University of Wisconsin healthcare system in the Rockford area, but her time on the farm helped her understand the value of teamwork and looking out for others.

“Humanity is the biggest thing, helping each other,” Teresa said. “I think it’s different in the city versus growing up in the country — there’s more of a camaraderie.”

The family and farm’s history are documented not only on paper, but the stories passed down through generations, helping today’s generation learn from those who came before them.

David recalls his aunt Hollis’s ability to control horses: “She had a grip, even when she was old, just from holding the reins all of the time,” David said. “When Hollis was working the fields, the reason she said that there was a big tree at the end of the field was because it was there they could take the horses to rest.”

Another of David’s memories: his dad’s homemade barbecue sauce. The recipe wasn’t written down, so each time it would taste a little different, he said.

Brad recalls a story about Phillips having a very young Stephen help him on the International Harvester tractor out on the field.

“Dad would ride on the back of the disc to add weight when the corn was too thick, so the disc could cut into the ground. He was also tied to the seat of an M when he was little because the tractors that had a hand clutch … were more expensive than the ones [with a foot pedal]. If you couldn’t reach the clutch you tie it to the seat and if you had to stop, he said that you could put it at a higher gear and go uphill and it’ll quit.

“With those kinds of stories, I don’t care if you’re 5 or 10, you’re going to get your work done, and just because you can’t reach the clutch isn’t an excuse.”

Brad and David never got to know great-grandpa Emmerson, but Brad recalls a story told to him about how he was able to control his horses: “They would tell me stories about how he couldn’t get the horses to stand still long enough to get them haltered up,” Brad said, so “he’d come out with his stick and would holler and pound the stick on the wood floor, and all of the horses would stand to attention and they could get the halters on.”

Sports have been a big part of the Chapman’s lives growing up, and even then, farming played a role.

The elder Stephen was a star player for the Ashton Aces high school football team, but turned down a scholarship to play football at the University of Colorado in 1960 to tend to the farm. He would also become Brad and David’s little league baseball coach, and incorporated the farm into keeping them in shape for the game, giving them exercises on the farm, and workouts with rocks, tires and hay bales.

When Brad and David got into football, their time on the farm paid off then, too, giving them an edge over the city kids.

“We had three hours of blood pumping through us by that time,” David said. “When two-a-days started in football in the fall, the only ones not throwing their guts up from all of the running and calisthenics were the farm boys who were active. The town boys would be puking and just beat.”

While the farm’s history is a point of pride and priceless memories for the family, it hasn’t always necessarily been a cause for a celebration. The Chapmans even declined to seek recognition as a state centennial farm in 1975, as the family long held that they weren’t ones for attention.

“We’d all agree that we’re not people who want the notoriety or the spotlight,” David said. “We just like to lay low and do our work and make it to the next year. We’re just not attention grabbers. We’re very privileged to have kept it in the family for this long.

Even if they had sought that centennial designation, they would have been several years late to the party — not they would have wanted to have one. “Papa was more concerned about jinxing it,” added David.

This year was originally believed to be the farm’s sesquicentennial, with 1875 long thought to be when the farm was established, but a little digging recently revealed there were actually a few more candles on the farm’s birthday cake. During research in late August, the Chapmans discovered that the farm was actually purchased nine years previously, in 1866. The discovery was made due to the property’s tax liens being released much later; it took John five years to pay off the purchase of the property (with 7 percent interest), but no records were officially filed until 1875.

Today, Stephen doesn’t mind a little recognition — the family worked hard for it, after all — so the family has filed paperwork to seek recognition as a sesquicentennial farm, even though, technically, 2025 would mark the farm’s 159th anniversary.

“Papa thought it was bad luck and didn’t want to do it,” he said. “We kind of talked [Grandma] into it. We made it this far, and we’ll sign up for it. Why not?”

For the Chapmans, the legacy of their farm isn’t measured in acres or awards, but in the endurance of a family bound to the land and to one another. Each generation has faced its share of long days and lean years, yet the farm remains — not only as a livelihood, but as a living record of perseverance, humility and quiet pride.