“5.5.5 We urge Congress and the
administration to enact policies that will: Encourage
exploration, extraction, pipeline and port facility
construction to ensure gas and oil supplies meet
demand, i.e., Keystone.”
I wanted to qualify this blanket approval with at
least a nod to agricultural lands and proposed the
addition of this phrase within the existing policy:
“(to the extent that it does not impact
agriculture negatively).”
Then I called back and asked how one went
about changing an outdated policy. The person
at the other end of the phone fairly bloomed with
information. “We are a grass roots organization,”
I was told. “Our strength is in the participation
of members” was repeated more than once. The
process was explained to me – ANY member can
bring a policy proposal to their county Farm Bureau
to be heard and voted upon.
I gathered my courage and called our county
president, Mr. Jim Gore, whom I had known since
high school. He was welcoming and encouraging so
there was no fear factor there, but when I learned
that the Monroe County Farm Bureau board was
to meet the next week and I could attend and bring
my proposal, I was ready to turn and run. I didn’t
know these men – their reputation was of strong,
outspoken personalities. I made a list and asked
around about who would be hard on me and who
would listen. There are lots of opinions about the
Farm Bureau and their leaders, just like in every
active organization. I was on edge that week. I
chewed my nails. I polished my remarks dozens
of times. If I hadn’t been seated at the board
meeting, my knees would have knocked. When I
was finished, you could’ve knocked me over with a
feather. These men were knowledgeable, and as kind
as could be. They discussed my policy amendment
and voted, unanimously, to support it.
I danced to my car that night.
Then, I got the opportunity to attend the big state
resolutions conference to work on policies, perhaps
because no one else was available to go. I sweated
again. I needed answers to what to wear, what to
study beforehand, even how to get to Flatwoods.
I easily found the Day’s Inn on that clear fall day.
I thought I looked all right. I was familiar with all
13 proposed policies and some reasoning behind
each of them.
Each of the participants were assigned a
committee to work on current and proposed policies.
I was with the Public Issues group and I learned
quite a bit about our existing policies, some history
on them, and what others in my group thought. It
was an interesting exchange of ideas. I had a blast.
There were so many people who knew about
the issues we face on little farms, from sheep foot
rot to mineral rights, that I felt like I was in a
living farm encyclopedia. I met a man from Roane
County who explained the terrain there, “most of
our farms are turned up on their edge,” and a lady
from Wood County who described a recent fire fee
meeting so clearly that I could see the fiery drama
inside my head.
After lunch, all committees came together and the
entire policy handbook was revisited. Most policies
were reaffirmed, some were changed, some were
removed, and a few new ones were added. Those
in charge were polite and leaders were careful to
give credit and thanks where it was due. In fact, had
I been the moderator, I might have told someone
to hush, but the man in charge politely told the
member that the comments were “related but not to
the point,” and moved on.
The icing on the cake for me was at the end of
the day, when the tiny policy amendment I had
suggested was read before the group. We voted to
send it to the American Farm Bureau Convention
for consideration. Whatever happens there with
the proposal will not dim the new appreciation I
have for our Farm Bureau policy-making system.
I use the word “our” because now I feel like I am
really a part of the West Virginia Farm Bureau
and that my voice matters.
Above, left: Author Becky Crabtree (in green vest)
discussing policy during the committee meeting.
West Virginia Farm Bureau News 9