Last week, I visited with a farmer, Don Taber, who had recently retired from his local cooperative board. During his time on the board, he’d seen the co-op grow from just a few locations in south-central Idaho to a cooperative that spans nearly the entire Northwest. Yet, he claims the cooperative maintains the feel of your local, farmer-focused cooperative. As a communications employee of said cooperative (there was a reason I was visiting with him), this was heartening. It was also a bit of a shock that he joined the cooperative board in 1991, the year I was born. Since I believe myself not to be very old (I know that is entirely a matter of perspective), I had to think about what it meant to be part of something for 30 years. He had dedicated a lifetime, my lifetime, of service to the cooperative board.
I know this may sound cliché, but thinking back at the last 30 years, I’m amazed at what changes there have been in the agriculture industry. One doesn’t have to look much further than the cooperative we are talking about to realize that. Starting from just a few locations, not much different than when the co-op was founded in 1920, to nearly a hundred locations all over the region serving all matter of crops and communities. The change and growth weren’t always a matter of choice but a matter of survival. Like the co-op, many farmers agree that changes to their farms are often driven by the necessity to keep up with an industry that threatens to leave the stagnant behind. In 30 years, agriculture has consolidated and further mechanized; it is increasingly intricate and sometimes overly complicated; our farms are larger, and our people are fewer.
During our interview, I commented on something to this effect to Mr. Taber. He agreed and commented on his 75-odd years in the industry. He can hardly fathom the change. He started as a kid hauling milk buckets on his family’s 20-cow dairy in Pennsylvania in the 1950s. Today, both his cows and acres measure in the thousands.
I asked Mr. Taber, in all that time he was part of the board, what was the most important thing he learned. His answer was immediate. He said he learned the value of being involved. He said he needed to get off the dairy and rub shoulders with other farmers and experts. He knows that he made regular and good contributions to the cooperative, but what he brought back to his operation each time he stepped off was even better. He reflected how sometimes he would grumble about attending board meetings during harvest season – but how a losing couple days of work rarely made any difference, but the ideas he brought back made all the difference.
I learned from Mr. Taber that 30 years is both a long and quite short time. I learned that I need always to be learning and seeking to contribute. I learned the importance of the clarity one can gain by getting off one’s farm (or out of one’s head) and being involved. I hope that if I am ever in Mr. Taber’s boots and a young person interrogates me with questions, I have such good advice to share.