The Real Logan Brice

If we were to have a high school-style awards ceremony after season-one at Rising Sand, I would be in strong contention for “Most Likely To Grow Up To Be Logan Brice.” Unlikely as this may seem, given the fact that we’ve got the real Logan Brice on-staff, as time passes and awkward misidentifications accumulate, I have become increasingly aware and accepting of my identity as the alternate, slightly older Logan Brice.

My first, and most profound, Logan Brice resemblance experience came at the Eagles Nest Center, where Fanni and I go for our monthly Board Meetings and Sweat Lodge ceremonies. On the first Saturday of month after month, Fanni and I walk into the living room where we hold our meetings- carrying our clothes for the sweat lodge and food for the feast to follow. This particular Saturday, unbeknownst to the rest of the crew, in walk Fanni and Logan Brice-  carrying their clothes for the sweat lodge and food for the feast to follow. Apparently it was quite the disconcerting experience. As Judy, fellow board member, put it, “We were all like, ‘Whoa, what’s going on here?’ It felt like we were in some kind of a time capsule or something!” After gathering their bearings, the group came to understand that though Logan Brice looks uncannily like a five-years-younger version of myself, he is actually Logan Brice.


But that would depend, I suppose, on who you should happen to ask. Jeremy Solin, from Tapped Maple Syrup, came in to the kitchen a few weeks back to discuss wholesale and retail syrup sales through the Mission Coffeehouse. Having met multiple times before, we shook hands with familiarity. “Hey, it’s good to see you again Logan.” Hmm… Then there was Sue Anderson, with whom I’ve had plenty of more-or-less intimate conversations over the past few years. We crossed paths in the greenhouse, and conversed for awhile about the management of the space. It went well and I was happy to see her, but as she was leaving, I got the classic, “Thanks again, Logan.” Hmm… Then there was the awkward Lincoln Center Farmer Appreciation Lunch, where they announced Lee Bartnik from Rising Sand Organics, and got a response from Logan Brice from Rising Sand Organics. As he talked, I turned to Layne, who sat next to me. “It’s alright; we’re pretty much the same guy.” She laughed. Later that week, upon entering the greenhouse, I was met by the random guy who hangs out there with his camera, documenting our progress. “Are you Logan Brice?” he asked. For a split-second, I was taken aback – thrust into existential crisis. Am I Logan Brice?   “Pretty much,” I responded casually, and we carried on as if this was a natural response to the identity question.

As time has passed, my response to this misidentification loop has evolved from, “Oh, she thinks I’m Logan Brice…” to “Oh, she thinks I’m Logan Brice!” I remember, however, my vague uneasiness when I first met Logan Brice — at the Idea Center for the first group meeting of what would become Rising Sand Organics. Here was this intense, sharp-eyed and focused young dude, whose resemblance to myself lodged its way into the back of my brain, and whose mentality I simply couldn’t place. We were discussing our expected potential period of involvement with Rising Sand, based on present life circumstances. Our answers ranged from Danny W’s infinity to Monica’s potential one or two years.  “So how long do you think you will be involved with the farm, Logan?” asked Oren.

“Just for today,” he responded seriously. Who the fuck is this guy? I remember thinking, amused and a bit off-guard.


It turns out that this guy, while maintaining steadfast dedication to the appearance of spontaneity, is a great planner, and one of the primary long-term settlers of Rising Sand. Behind Danny W, I would put Logan at the top of the list for long-term involvement and it’s obvious that he’s got the willingness and determination to pull it off. He’s the hardest worker on the farm, with the possible exception of Polly; he’s willing to do any job, and generally maintains a relatively fun and pleasant disposition while doing it. In fact, there are times when I feel slight pangs of Logan Brice envy. This summer, while he is killing and skinning animals; building cool stuff; and cooking fresh meat over open fires, I will be married, working my full-time job, and keeping an eye on the Stevens Point Housing Market. But someday, dammit, I’m going to shave my face, put on some Harry Potter glasses and an Herb’n Living t-shirt, and go to a party in Logan Brice’s stead. Once there, I will say obscure things in serious tones, and wait patiently behind laughing eyes for the responses. After that I may just kill an animal or two. I am, after all, Logan Brice. If you don’t believe me, just ask Sue Anderson.