Several years ago I moved my Farm Bureau membership to my home county and it’s made a big difference in my personal investment in the organization. Ever since I’ve felt a stronger, more personal connection with not only “my” county Farm Bureau and its members, but the land they work and the legacy of the generations that came before them.
The industry bemoans that most American consumers are three, four or more generations “removed from the farm,” and I’m one of those many. The farmer nearest to me (chronologically) on my family tree is four generations back: Patrick McElroy bought 80 acres sight unseen and moved his big Irish family from western New York state to Mason County’s Sherman Township.
Farming didn’t last long or end well for Patrick and his family, and to the best of my knowledge no subsequent McElroy tilled the soil in Sugar Grove or anywhere else — nor did the Pope, Oakes or Nagel lines that wove into my generation.
Despite my ancestors’ agricultural shortcomings I still have a familiarity with the land there that helps me feel somewhat connected there, so a recent afternoon spent visiting members back home paid off in shades of gratification I’m still trying to interpret.
Part of it came from already knowing the area, another from knowing the organization — especially how a county Farm Bureau is very much a living, dynamic organism. Like any one of us they go through ups and downs, good times and bad. They have strengths and weaknesses, successes and failures.
My county Farm Bureau has been on an upswing in recent years, with a surge of involvement in local programs and more pep in their step than I’d seen in prior years. It took some attrition and turnover among its leadership, then years of hard work to turn the tide, but energy and enthusiasm are as contagious as coronavirus.
I spoke at length with the county president about his plans for ensuring a smooth transition of leadership when he terms out in a few months’ time, and enjoyed a very different conversation with an up-and-coming young farmer still getting his sea legs but eager to do so in the best possible fashion.
But the real ‘win’ that day was a long visit with a member who impressed me not so much for his involvement in the organization but more for the extreme passion with which he pursues his vocation. I first made his acquaintance years ago when he was active in the Young Farmer program, but “life happens” as they say and he fell off my radar.
In this case “life” meant the usual things: farm, get married, farm, have kids, and keep farming. He’s farming on his own now and embodies everything I love so much about farmers in general.
In an admittedly disorganized shop he brings back to life “gently used” equipment he’s picked up on the cheap. He understands more about mechanical engineering, botany, soil chemistry, land-use regulation, meteorology, economics and topography than any non-farmer could process in a lifetime — much less apply it toward successful cultivation and harvest.
Best of all from my perspective was the education I got that afternoon about the land itself. I’ve been patiently looking forward to the day when I could peek into a farmer’s mind to see some of what they see in the landscape — and the land itself — and that afternoon I got it in spades without even asking.
In short, my host has invested considerable time, energy and forethought into reshaping the land itself — converting marginal ground into valuable, productive farmland. I know farmers have been doing this for thousands of years, but it’s easy (especially for us non-farmers) to fall into the lazy delusion that they’ve somehow finished the work.
For me it was uniquely rewarding to not only see that evolution in progress, but to hear how it’s being accomplished from someone who’s actually making it happen.