Meet John Goetz

Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to John Goetz. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Alright, so we’re so thrilled to have John with us today – welcome and maybe we can jump right into it with a question about one of your qualities that we most admire. How did you develop your work ethic? Where do you think you get it from?

I was driving in the car last week when someone on the podcast I was listening to was complaining that all his son did was sit in his bedroom with his headphones on and either listen to music or play video games. My partner turned to me and said, “You ever do that?”
“Do what?”
“Sit in your room with your headphones and listen to music.”
I kinda laughed. We’ve been together for sixteen years and he still asked me that. I was surprised to say the least.
My brows furrowed, “Kidding right?
Then the light evidently came on and he said, “Yeah. I guess not.”
It’s not that I didn’t like music. Not that I didn’t have headphones growing up (actually, I didn’t). It’s that I didn’t have time. I was working – the earliest memory is since I was eight. Don’t worry – it’s wasn’t illegal child labor in some dark, dank warehouse.
You see, I grew up on a 3,000 acre family farm in North Dakota.
On a farm, you don’t have time to sit in your room listening to music.
You work.
It’s what you do.
It’s what I still do – just not on a farm. It’s what I can’t not do.
I have a regular corporate day job. I also write books. I work on the publication of a magazine. I do some screen writing. I have dipped my toe into community theater (had a blast as Reverend Dr. Harper in Arsenic and Old Lace). I’m starting a catering business – hopefully 2025 kicks that off big-time. I sell baked goods at the local Farmer’s Market. I’m learning the art of chocolatiering. I garden. I do home canning. I cook (a lot).
When you don’t know about growing up on a farm, explaining the experience can be odd. To say that I was driving a tractor when I was eight years old, people think “mowing the lawn on a small garden tractor.” No, I mean driving a “real” tractor – one where the tires are taller than a grown man. A tractor where I couldn’t reach the pedals. I had to stand up to press down on the clutch to change gears. I didn’t have long enough legs nor strong enough legs to do that without standing up on the clutch, reaching over the steering wheel and changing the gear.
“How do you learn to do that?” people ask.
In a very Yoda-like fashion I say, “You don’t really ‘learn.’ You just ‘do.’”
My dad took me out, did a few rounds with me and said, “Just turn around when you get to the other side. Don’t go in the ditch.” Then he left me alone and picked me up at sunset. Most are astounded. Some say, “Whoa.”
I shrug. It was no big deal, really. You learn what works and what doesn’t.
So that’s what I did. When you are a small spec in the middle of an 160-acre piece of dirt, there’s a lot of room to learn. You’re an ant. It takes about 2 days to cultivate a 160-acre field. Throughh the years, you also learn minor diesel mechanics. How to fix and change hydraulic hoses without getting drenched in oil (trial and error). And, most importantly, the care and maintenance of your machinery.
The neighbors could always tell which fields I worked on because I could never drive a straight line. My dad and brother on the other hand – straight as arrows. Me? Not a chance.
Farming is a 24X7X365 day affair for the most part. Yeah. There’d be times when we’d go to the lake and go fishing – good memories. My dad taught me how to troll for walleye. I kept bringing in my line. He said, “Leave it out.” I said, “How will I know if I got something?” He said, “You’ll know.”
He was right.
Farming is a family affair. The roles and amount of work just vary from season to season. Spring and Fall is dusk to dawn. Seeding and harvest. You don’t balk. There are no sick days unless you are dying. Even that I had to question. You don’t ask to go swimming with friends. You don’t sit in your room with headphones. You work. No. Questions. Asked.
It’s how farm families survive.
My mom was a farmer’s wife. She had a 1960 Rambler that my Dad had painted red, white, and blue. It was her trademark — her brand. We could see her coming for miles. She worked just has hard as those of us in the field. Her work was just — different. She’d bring out meals to the fields so we didn’t have to stop. She’d cook four course dinners, load up her car with plates, flatware, glasses, coolers, the food, drinks, and everything else she needed to feed her family and everyone working. I’d see the plume of dust coming down the road and my stomach would start growling — plus I knew Mom was coming (she and I were very close). Occasionally Dad would ask her if she could help move some equipment from one field to another. The first time I saw her drive a tractor I thought, “Whoa! Girls can drive tractors!”
I didn’t know girls could do that.
I’m not sexist, it was 1970 and I was only twelve.
Summer was a little easier – relatively. There were times when we’d get to go to the pool and go swimming with friends. A day off. I relished rainy days as they were slow(er). Not in the field – but there was generally other work to do. Pick rock (long story). Plow. Cultivate. Clean and empty grain bins. Fix this. Fix that. Haul last year’s wheat, barley, oats, durum, beans, corn, or sunflower to the elevator to sell it. That was boring but had to be done.
Winter? There was still work. Not as much. A little slower. A lot colder. A lot of finishing up the work that didn’t get finished in the summer and fall.
That’s where my work ethic comes from. It’s just part of me I guess – I can’t really nail it down to a precise moment in time. I know it will never leave me. I’m pretty confident that I’ve instilled the same instinct in my two kids (now adults). Although they do like video games and they’ve taught me to enjoy Halo – even though my eye-hand coordination sucks.
Now that I’m 61, people ask me about retirement.
I laugh and say, “Yeah. Right.”

Appreciate the insights and wisdom. Before we dig deeper and ask you about the skills that matter and more, maybe you can tell our readers about yourself?

Retirement is approaching … FAST! Although I know I’m never NOT going to work, I want to be prepared for the next phase and do something I enjoy. I started offering baked goods at the farmers market last year (2024) and it seemed to be a success. My goal this year (along with my partner) is to make it grow. We’re building LumberJax into a business to provide catering, baked goods, chocolates, and customized classes. By April 2025 I expect to have all of my commercial licensure completed and then it’s off to the races! I’m also (still) working on my next books although the timing on those has been put on the back-burner with LumberJax, my regular day job, and everything else I do.

There is so much advice out there about all the different skills and qualities folks need to develop in order to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment and often it can feel overwhelming. So, if we had to break it down to just the three that matter most, which three skills or qualities would you focus on?

Don’t give up. Keep moving forward regardless of what life throws at you. Stay calm.
I’ve had so many roadblocks and pivots in my journey – I’ve forgotten to count. The one piece of advice that my wise sister told me, that I will never forget, and that I pass on to everyone and anyone that asks is: “No one will look out for you but yourself.”
It’s true.

Who has been most helpful in helping you overcome challenges or build and develop the essential skills, qualities or knowledge you needed to be successful?

There have been so many people.
Bob “Bumps” Baumgartner. He was the local alcoholic growing up (seriously) and a dear, dear friend who called me Sasquatch, taught me the love of Steinbeck, and ended up teaching me so much about life.
My parents.
My siblings – each in their unique way.
My partner, Robb.

However, I’m going to come to more recent history….

It was the first day for LumberJax at the Menomonie Farmer’s Market. June 15, 2024. I’ll never forget it. I’m a very shy person – I’m not one to make introductions to strangers. I’m not trying to be rude! I’m just shy. Get me in front of an audience talking about one of my books though and I can go for days – weird.
There was a woman in the booth next to mine – she was promoting a place called “Woodwind Park” and a running event called the “Nut Run.”
I chuckled.
But, remember I’m shy, I didn’t say “hello.”
I didn’t say diddly.
I wanted to. I was just afraid.
Don’t know why.
My partner was there helping me set up for the first day at the market.
He broke the ice — naturally.
The two hit it off and began chatting. Turns out we are actually neighbors on the lake we live on.
Who knew. Small world.
Turns out she likes to write.
Turns out I like to write.
We began talking more and I got more comfortable – it just takes me a while. I’m kinda like a diesel engine – takes me a while to get warmed up. Then I’m fine.
“You gotta meet my husband. He’s gonna love you guys,” she said.
The rest is history.
Meagan and Paul Frank have become two of my best friends, mentors, confidants, ideas-against-the-wall-people that a person could ask for. I don’t know what turns my life would have taken had the Farmer’s Market Administrator had not put our two booths next to one another on that one fateful day in June.
They’ve recommended me to cater their son’s wedding.
I wrote Meagan a thank you email – I also suffer from “Imposter Syndrome.”
“Easiest recommendation I share with people,” she replied.
See what I mean?

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.lumberjaxbh.com
• Instagram: lumberjaxbh
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61559328525899
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/jogoetz

Image Credits

These are all photos I’ve taken.