MARSHALL, Ill. – Don Guinip’s time is running out.
The fifth-generation farmer still wakes up early every morning to tend about 1,000 acres of corn and soybeans and 40 head of cattle. But four decades of hard work, a battle with prostate cancer and surgery to replace both his hips with titanium implants has taken their toll.
The 74-year-old estimates that he can maintain the current workload for a few more years.
Under the gaze of generations of Ginips in black-and-white photographs, he gathers his four siblings to chart the future of their family farm – and thinks about a day when Ginips will no longer care about the land that runs along Ginip Road.
A natural choice to take charge, his son and daughter dropped out of college and now work in corporate sectors. His brothers and sisters had taken the same decision years ago.
“This is disappointing for me,” says Ginip, choking back tears. “That’s the way the dice are thrown, and you have to accept what life gives you.”
The number of farmers in America has been declining for years, but rising costs and weak commodity prices Increasingly more families are being pushed out. US court data shows that in 2025, 315 farms filed for bankruptcy, a 46% increase from 2024.
Those who remain are growing old; According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, there are more farmers age 75 and older than there are under age 35. They are facing even more difficult choices possibilities.
“Family farming is in crisis, and American farmers and ranchers are fighting for their livelihoods,” says Rob Larew, president of the National Farmers Union.
Many farmers already depend on government aid to survive. Congress approved in 2024 $10 billion in bailout funds and $21 billion in natural disaster relief For producers and livestock farmers. Trump administration trade policies made the situation worseMoving more families and communities forward on the brink. In December, the White House Mortgage 12 billion dollars assistance to farmers. Industry projections show that even with that money, corn producers are expected to be at a loss again in 2026.
Thousands of people across America are liquidating farms that have been in their families for generations by selling them to a large corporation or declaring bankruptcy. it is modified food production and local communities. Critics of agricultural consolidation say it has also led to a reduction in crop diversity, posing a risk to the broader food system.
extinction of small farms This has had serious consequences for rural America, disrupting the transfer of wealth long tied to land between generations. And tough economics are making the search for successors more challenging. Children of farmers today have more opportunities for work beyond agriculture than decades ago, and families are generally smaller, reducing the number of potential candidates.
Sitting in the living room, Guineap and his siblings are poring over packets filled with appraisals and agricultural histories as they discuss plans for land potentially worth millions of dollars.
While Guinip has full custody of the acres and animals, her parents left the family farm to trusts, which divided ownership between her, David, Susan, Sally, and Dan. Every year, Ginip pays his siblings rent based on the farm’s performance.
The profits aren’t high these days, but it could be worse.
One thing that helps: Ginip is frugal. He still lives in a more than a century old house built by his grandfather. His truck, whose power steering had recently failed, is from the 1990s. Instead of buying new equipment and hiring help, he uses old tractors and combines.
“Why would I buy new equipment if I don’t have anyone to hand it to?” He says.
on ginip road
With the call of “suk calf”, Ginip begins the day just as his father and grandfather did before him. He follows the gravel path behind the farmhouse to a small pasture nestled between rows of corn and soybeans. One by one, the cattle follow him alone for a snack of ground corn and hay.
Ginip handles almost every task on the farm. He loads buckets of feed on the back of his ATV and unloads them into a barn full of cattle that are many times heavier than him. With a hip replacement, he is limping enough to climb into the large machinery needed to harvest crops, spray pesticides, plant seeds and move hay bales weighing nearly 1,000 pounds.
The land is depicted as a reminder of his lineage, starting with a sign in front of the farm that points to the beginning: 1837.
Joseph Guinip, head of the family, joined the group of people who left Steuben County, New York, in the 1830s and headed west to take possession of America’s Manifest Destiny. Eventually they settled on 40 acres of land in southeastern Illinois, where they built a log cabin, the family’s first farmhouse.
The land has passed through every generation since then, including those who fought in the Civil War and survived a disaster. Guinip’s father, Robert, and mother, Rose, eventually took over the reins of leadership.
With Ginip being the eldest child, there was no question as to who would take over the farm. “Dad really groomed him to take charge,” says Dan, a former cruise-line accounting head who lives in California. “It was absolutely clear.”
Ginip graduated from Southern Illinois University with a teaching degree in 1973. He worked as an agriculture teacher for a while before returning to the farm.
Before Robert Guinnup’s death in the 1990s, he and his wife put the farm into two trusts – the Robert Guinnup Trust and the Rose Guinnup Trust – which would be shared equally between their five children when they died. His approach, says Don Guinip, was that whoever stayed on the farm would buy out the others.
The price of land at that time was approximately $1,000 to $2,000 per acre. Now that has increased 10 times, making it impossible for Guinevere to buy all his siblings.
Farmer isn’t one to complain, his daughter says, and he never asked for help. When asked about the structure he would say, “It’s just the way it is.”
When their mother died in 2024, Ginip and his siblings agreed to keep the trust as it was and decide the rest later.
heir unclear
Ginip’s son, Andy, became the sixth generation operator of the farm.
“It’s been acknowledged since I was a boy,” says Andy. “I don’t think we’ve ever talked about it.”
He learned the ropes early and spent his childhood cleaning grain bins, tying hay and herding animals. But farm work was boring. Andy was more attracted to animals than crops.
He couldn’t remember when he told his father he wasn’t interested in a career in agriculture, but it was probably around high school.
After graduating from college, he spent a year helping on the farm while his father recovered from prostate cancer surgery. Once Don Guinip was able to return to work, Andy headed west for a pharmaceutical job in St. Louis.
His sister, Molly Wedding, an attorney for an insurer, lives in Indianapolis with her husband and three children. She had no interest in living her life in a small town. She says that her father also never tried to convince her to take over the farm.
As she grew up, she developed a greater interest in the business operations of the farm.
“Can I drive it? Yes. Do I see myself doing the labor? No.”
She encouraged her father to have more serious conversations about succession planning.
five shareholders
Don Guinip calls his brothers and sisters to the farm in mid-October. It’s peak harvest season, but it’s the only time all five of them can be together. This is the first time that they have met after a few weeks have passed since their mother’s death.
“We’ve had three good years on the farm,” Ginip tells his siblings, sounding like a chairman speaking to his board. “Can’t say the same about this year. Prices are bad and crops are bad. So your income is going to be less this year.”
They nod. they’ve seen the news about it trade war And other difficulties faced in the farm. Suzanne, who is married to a retired farmer in Indiana, knows them firsthand.
Going into the meeting, everyone felt that David was close to selling his stake. They had agreed that if one of the siblings wanted to cash out, the other owners would buy out his or her share to prevent the farm from being sold to outsiders.
But when Ginip asked David if he still wanted to sell his share, David shook his head no.
“What do you want to do?” Suzanne asks in surprise.
David proposed dividing the farm and giving parcels to each of his children. This way, he says, the children won’t have to struggle over future decisions regarding the entire farm. “It can be really unpleasant.”
Frustrated, Dan and Susan argue that his plan is not possible. Hills and dense trees make some land difficult to cultivate. Which of their children will get the mountainous land and who will get the most fertile land?
Susan suggests that they consider reorganizing the farm as a limited liability company. She says this structure will make management as a business easier and more straightforward for future generations, allowing siblings to transfer shares rather than physical acreage.
Dan and Sally don’t think change is needed; The current structure is working.
Addressing the other big question mark – what happens when Don retires – Sally says she believes the best way forward is to lease the land to an outside, trusted farmer.
Don Guinip spends most of the time listening back and forth. He rarely interrupts, speaking only when his siblings have finished talking. But when he speaks, his family listens. Especially when Ginip tells them that he thinks he can continue farming for about two years.
“I’m healthy, I love doing what I’m doing,” he says, “but I’m not going to live forever.”
He suggests they consider putting the 40 acres into a USDA program that would remove it from production and provide producers a fixed payment for farmland. They agree.
After two hours it became clear that this would be the only decision today. They are at an impasse. No successor has been named. No one sells his share. No consensus has been reached on the trust structure.
The siblings agree that they should meet twice a year, as they eat pork sandwiches for lunch.
Ginip will not be able to join them for long. A truckload of freshly harvested soybeans needs his attention.
the farm calls
At the local grain elevator, Guinip is offered about $10 a bushel for his soybeans. It’s not enough to make big profits, but he knows it’s better than what some growers are getting. His 600 bushels will likely end up in poultry feed in the south.
On his way back to the farm, he reflects on the meeting. He says the family usually reaches the right decision after getting time to think about it.
In Guinip’s view the future of American farming is not good. He estimates it would resemble a contract model, in which farmers work the land for someone else, pay rent and are personally responsible for the debts incurred to keep the farm running. Fewer family farmers will be present. The glory they brought will also be lost.
“When farmers owned land and lived on the land, they took care of the land and they created communities that worked together and solved problems and took care of everyone,” he says. “You won’t have that in the future.”
However, at this point he is worried about the future, the 2026 harvest.
Just before Christmas, Guinip takes stock of his expenses and sets aside money for taxes and expenses for the coming year’s harvest. He goes to the post office to mail checks totaling several thousand dollars to each of his siblings.
He managed to turn a profit in 2025, but he sold his soybean crop for about $60,000 less than last year. He is applying for some of the relief money promised by the Trump administration.
The government funds will help cover fertilizer, pesticides and seeds to help plant new crops in the spring. New devices are not listed.
Write to Patrick Thomas here patrick.thomas@wsj.com
