“From Selling to Giving” by Brian Ketchum

I was born at home in Houlton, Maine, but I grew up in Bridgewater. That’s where my roots are. I was the middle child—two sisters, one older and one younger. You could say I was the “sandwich” between them. We were a local family. My father was from Bridgewater, and my mother was from Houlton. Life was simple back then, but it was good—steady, honest, and close to the land.
 
What I remember most about growing up is the farm. We lived and worked on a potato farm. I loved it. I really did. There was something about being outside, working the soil, and seeing the results of your labor over time. It wasn’t always easy work, but it was meaningful. It taught me how to stay with something, how to be patient, and how to take responsibility.
 
For a long time, I thought I would come back and farm. That was the plan. I even sat down with my father and talked about what it would take to get started on my own. We came up with a number—$25,000. That was a lot of money back then. I didn’t have it, and the opportunity didn’t come together the way I had hoped.
 
So my life took a different direction. Instead of farming, I went into the potato business. I started out working for a company, learning how things worked—buying and selling, understanding the market, and figuring out how to make things come together. Over time, I went out on my own. I had my own office and handled my own business. I worked hard. That’s what I knew how to do, and I stayed with it.
 
Somewhere along the way, I met Diane. That was the best thing that ever happened to me. We met in college, in a microbiology class. It wasn’t anything unusual at the time. I gave her a ride back to the dorm one day, and that’s how it started. There wasn’t anything complicated about it. It just grew from there. Eight months later, we were married—August 20, 1960. We’ve been together ever since.
 
We had our share of hard times, especially financially. There were seasons when things were tight and uncertain, and we didn’t always know how things would work out. But we stayed together. We didn’t walk away. Diane stayed. I stayed. We worked through it, one step at a time.
 
There were also times when Diane had to stay in bed for months during pregnancy. During those times, I had to take care of everything—the children, the meals, and the house, along with the work outside. It wasn’t easy, but you just do what needs to be done. You don’t think too much about it. You just step in and carry it. We raised our family together, and I’m grateful for all of them. Each one has been a blessing in their own way.
 
Later on, in the 1980s, I started planting Christmas trees. I can’t say exactly what led me to start. I just began. One field turned into another, and over time it grew into something much larger than I expected. At one point, we had around 200 acres of trees spread out in different places. It was steady work, and it took time. Trees don’t grow overnight. You plant them and then wait—five, seven, sometimes eight years before they’re ready. You have to care for them through each season, year after year. It requires patience and attention.
 
It became a family business. Diane was involved, and the kids helped as well. Our daughter handled the computer work, which was something we couldn’t have done ourselves. Our sons came back during the busy seasons to help in the fields. It was all of us working together, each doing our part.
 
I remember one moment clearly. We were out working in the field when some men came by to look at the trees. Back then, there were no cell phones, and I couldn’t reach Diane easily. But things came together. That meeting led to selling trees to Walmart, and that made a big difference in the business.
 
We stayed in that business for many years. Then, sometime in the early 2000s, we came to the end of it. It wasn’t sudden. It just felt like the right time to stop. It was a good ending to that chapter of our lives.
 
After that, something began to change in me. I had spent most of my life working in business. That was the world I knew—buying and selling, making deals, trying to make things work. But later in life, I started to feel differently about it. I remember saying it this way: “I've spent my whole life trying to buy something for less than it was worth and then sell it for more than it was worth. I don’t want to do that anymore. From now on, I’m not going to sell… I’m going to give it away.”
 
That wasn’t just something I said. It became something I lived out. That’s how the jelly mission began. I learned how to make jelly from Joan Boone. I started with simple batches—apple, berries, rhubarb, and a few others. What began small slowly grew. Before long, I was making hundreds of jars. Our basement became my workspace, a place where I could keep it all going.
 
And then I gave it away. To people at church. To neighbors. To local cupboards. To anyone who might want some. The idea was simple: take a jar for yourself, and take another one to give to someone else. Pass it along. It wasn’t about recognition. It wasn’t about being noticed. It was just something I wanted to do, something that felt right to me.
 
Faith has been part of my life for a long time. I grew up around the church, and Diane and I raised our family in the church. Over the years, we were part of the Methodist Church in Mars Hill. It has been an important part of our lives and our community. Life is not always easy. There are times when things are hard, when the future is uncertain, and when you don’t have clear answers. In those moments, you just keep going. You walk by faith, not by sight. You take one step at a time and do what is in front of you.
 
Looking back, there are a few things I’ve learned. Work hard. Be honest. Stay with the people you love. Honesty matters. It always has. If I could pass one thing on to my children, my grandchildren, and my great-grandchildren, it would be that. Be honest. Live the right way. Let people know they can trust you. And hold on to each other. Stay with your family. Stay through the hard times, not just the good ones.
 
If you ask me how I would like to be remembered, I would say this: as someone who loved people and tried to live honestly. Diane and I—that’s the story. That’s the best part of my life. The years we’ve shared, and all we’ve gone through together—that means more than anything else. We’ve had a good life. Not a perfect life, but a good one. And for it all, I give thanks to God.