Folks—Can I tell you the story of how I lost three fingers? Don't worry, I'll leave the rough parts out.

I grew up in a twenty-four-by-thirty-six foot house. My dad’s butcher shop was right next door. And in 1966, I lost three of my left fingers in a meat grinder accident.

You might be asking yourself why a child was allowed to use the meat grinder. But as a nine-year-old farm kid, I knew how to operate trucks, tractors, and power tools.

Look, I don’t remember putting my hand there. But I sure as hell remember rushing to a local doctor. My mom and dad drove me over 40 miles to the closest hospital where I could get surgery.

After I lost my fingers, I had to give up my dreams of playing the saxophone and took up the trumpet. I graduated college with a degree in music.

But I never gave up farming. I still spend my weekends at the farm, at least two weeks planting every spring, and I spend the month of August harvesting. And I even have the same meat grinder—Sharla and I still use it to this day.

I’m telling you this story because I’ve never forgotten who I am or where I came from. I’m a proud dirt farmer from just outside Big Sandy, which, in my opinion, helps me be a better senator for Montana.

We’ve been able to accomplish a lot in the Senate—more than I can count on my fingers, but that doesn’t really matter since there’s so much more to do. That’s why I’m turning to you:

I proudly rely on grassroots support from folks like you. So today, I’m asking you to make an investment in our campaign by contributing any amount you can. I’ll need you with me if we want to win this race.

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Thank you, we couldn't do any of this without you.

Jon