Rock of Ages

The Center for Rural Affairs is marking its 35th anniversary, a time for celebration and reflection. But perhaps we should also ask ourselves why we bother to note such occasions at all.

We, as a society and as individuals, tend to place value in things that have existed for some time. We assume with age comes wisdom and other qualities that impart individual and social well-being. Usually, this is true. And that progression of time tends to afford us certain privileges and opportunities – the right to vote, the right to consume alcohol, etc. The underlying principle seems to be that as we age, we are ready for increasingly greater responsibilities.

And if that is true of individuals, does that make it true of organizations as well? On the 35th anniversary of our founding (one that, if a person, would allow the Center to run for President), we can look back and acknowledge that the Center has indeed taken on greater responsibility and a wider variety of roles as years passed. However, the Center did not automatically assume that it should do so; rather we took the time to develop staff and expertise in areas where we believed a need existed. Those conscious efforts, not the passage of time, allowed us to assume greater organizational and social responsibilities.

Reading The Center for Rural Affairs in the First 20 Years (www.cfra.org/about/history/early) I am struck by the early, freewheeling nature of the Center, which was not all that dissimilar from a young adult finding her or his way in the world:

"The Center’s working space had the character of an old-fashioned news room – crowded, cluttered, noisy, ugly. We shared two phone lines on three telephones, one of which was for the receptionist and the other two of which were placed on small tables between desks.

The clock meant nothing to us. We started early, worked late, came and went as we saw fit, and washed down each day’s events with beer at Brown’s Derby (later named the French Quarters, and now the Horseshoe Lounge).

All of this constituted a culture of shared commitment, but it should not be mistaken for a culture of sacrifice. There was no feeling of deprivation or hardship. We were hungry for the action, and the Center invariably attracted VISTA volunteers, employees, and hang-arounds who were there for the cause."

It occurs to me the original staff of the Center had enormous freedom, unbound by a legacy and the weight of organizational history. Yet they used that freedom judiciously, guided by a deep-seated sense of social justice and a shared commitment to serving the common good. The balancing of freedom and responsibility, the beliefs of liberty, equality, and fraternity – those are the reasons the Center for Rural Affairs has existed for these 35 years.

When I came to work in Lyons two years ago, I had little conception of the Center’s history and legacy. That legacy is a comfort, a tool to utilize, a reservoir of credibility to rely on. Over the past two years, I have felt an ever-increasing sense of responsibility towards honoring and maintaining that legacy. I hope to contribute to it myself.