My first time on a panel, I shared the stage with DeeDee, Monsanto’s 2012 “Farm Mom of the Year.” She wore a necklace made of peanuts. I was her foil, a Brooklyn dandy in a bowtie, speaking on behalf of a sustainable farming magazine.
Former CNN host Ali Veshi moderated; that day, he was on the payroll of the pesticide manufacturers who organized the event. My recollection of the banter: “Jesse, are you saying you can farm better than this experienced—and might I say lovely—farmer?” Dee Dee: “Oh Ali, you’re too much! All I know is, I’ve got acres of thriving soybeans and I’m not going to let some outsider tell me how to do my job.”
Monsanto is one of the world’s most reviled companies—ranked just above Comcast and Halliburton in 2016’s Harris Poll for worst corporate reputations—and the face of the controversial genetically modified organism (GMO) biz. For all the money they’ve made (and that they surely pay their PR team), the company hasn’t yet figured out how to overcome its longstanding reputation for secrecy and preemptive litigation.
[quote position="full" is_quote="true"]Like a high school bully who later claims to find God, Monsanto has been softening its image.[/quote]
Heck, I knew Monsanto was bad news before middle school. Family lore has it that they threatened to sue my dad. While getting a master’s in public health, he wrote a paper zeroing in on the company’s alleged contamination of a New England town. Poppa Hirsch claims Monsanto’s legal threats were relentless, a whiff of violence in every exchange.
The story doesn’t sound out of character for a chemical company with a track record for polluting several EPA disaster zones. A pivot to Big Ag in 1997 involved an herbicide called Roundup—and a patented Roundup-resistant GM soybean. The twinned products fostered a grudging dependence among farmers, made thornier by the 147 lawsuits Monsanto admits to bringing against those illegally using its seeds.
But like a high school bully who later claims to find God, Monsanto has been softening its image. Articles about the company’s organic efforts began appearing in respected magazines. They even hired the hunky “Director of Millennial Engagement” Vance Crowe in 2014. Then, last year, I joined 19 other journalists for a highly-curated tour of Monsanto’s Missouri research headquarters.
With my history of familial antagonism, I imagined goons around every corner. When I spied an A/V room filled with lighting monitors and speakers, I demanded to photograph the sinister “surveillance station.” But I couldn’t help but be charmed by my handler, a good-natured mom who’d procured the Monsanto produce for lunch; all week, her basement had been “filled with watermelons.” (Yes, we ate GMOs and no, I didn’t sprout a tail).
A kindly, retired man who gave Monsanto tours “just to get out of the house” shepherded us around the labs. When reporters pressed him on the lack of diversity in Monsanto’s workforce, my instinct was to hush them. All day, I’d witnessed demos and panels calculated to appease skeptics, but what got me were the people: Monsanto’s cold, faceless veneer replaced by, say, an endearingly awkward scientist, or an executive who sincerely believed the company could end world hunger.
I steeled my resolve, continuing to write clear-eyed stories about Big Ag, but Monsanto’s folksy charm offensive had done a number on my psyche. Compounding my turmoil was the fear that I’d disappointed Dad by cavorting with the enemy. Was I betraying my own bloodline? It didn’t help that Poppa Hirsch had made a late-in-life career change from public health administrator to organic gardener. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I called him recently to clear the air.
[quote position="full" is_quote="true"]When reporters pressed our tour guide on the lack of diversity in Monsanto’s workforce, my instinct was to hush them.[/quote]
“Dad? Do you still, like, hate Monsanto? Just curious.”
“I’m definitely anxious that all of our food sources could someday be controlled by a company whose primary motivation is money, not feeding people.”
Yes, that’s how he actually talks. I braced myself, then told him about my day at company HQ. I admitted to doing extensive GMO research and couldn’t discount the scientific consensus that they’re safe. My childhood bogeymans no longer squared with what I’d learned as a rational adult with a reporter’s instincts and an impulse toward mercy.
Though Poppa Hirsch expressed fears that I’d been “hoodwinked,” he also thought that “the whole GMO thing has gotten a bad rap, and [Monsanto’s] the fall guy for that. They’re employing smart scientists and have the power to do some real good in the world.”
Not only was I not disowned for dining with the enemy, I realized I come from thoughtful, open-minded stock. Monsanto may not be a monolithic entity, but neither, it turns out, are human beings.
Parents of young children get more time with them if they work from home.Photo credit: Canva
Juicy subject matter
Giphy from The Blacklist.
We could start a rumor.
Grieving couple comforting each other
This response to someone grieving a friend might be the best internet comment ever
When someone is hit with the sudden loss of a friend or loved one, words rarely feel like enough. Yet, more than a decade ago, a wise Redditor named GSnow shared thoughts so profound they still bring comfort to grieving hearts today.
Originally posted around 2011, the now-famous reply was rediscovered when Upvoted, an official Reddit publication, featured it again to remind everyone of its enduring truth. It began as a simple plea for help: “My friend just died. I don't know what to do.”
What followed was a piece of writing that many consider one of the internet’s best comments of all time. It remains shared across social media, grief forums, and personal messages to this day because its honesty and metaphor speak to the raw reality of loss and the slow, irregular path toward healing.
Below is GSnow’s full reply, unchanged, in all its gentle, wave-crashing beauty:
Why this advice still matters
Mental health professionals and grief counselors often describe bereavement in stages or phases, but GSnow’s “wave theory” gives an image more relatable for many. Rather than a linear process, grief surges and retreats—sometimes triggered by a song, a place, or a simple morning cup of coffee.
In recent years, this metaphor has found renewed relevance. Communities on Reddit, TikTok, and grief support groups frequently reshare it to help explain the unpredictable nature of mourning.
Many readers say this analogy helps them feel less alone, giving them permission to ride each wave of grief rather than fight it.
Finding comfort in shared wisdom
Since this comment first surfaced, countless people have posted their own stories underneath it, thanking GSnow and passing the words to others facing fresh heartbreak. It’s proof that sometimes, the internet can feel like a global support group—strangers linked by shared loss and hope.
For those searching for more support today, organizations like The Dougy Center, GriefShare, and local bereavement groups offer compassionate resources. If you or someone you know is struggling with intense grief, please reach out to mental health professionals who can help navigate these deep waters.
When grief comes crashing like the ocean, remember these words—and hang on. There is life between the waves.
This article originally appeared four years ago.