Essays from West of 98: The Basis of a Local Economy
Where does our food come from?
When is the last time you considered that question? I don’t mean within the context of “food is produced by farmers and ranchers, not created at the grocery store” (although if you have questions about that, I would love to connect with you). Rather, I’m asking about the geography. How far did that food travel from its origin until it reached your pantry or refrigerator?
As part of last week’s essay, I shared in the social media and web posts a historic image of Stamford’s business district that hangs on the wall in my office. It is an amazing aerial view of Stamford’s heyday, but the inset description has some remarkable facts about the town, including this:
“Stamford has an oil refinery, ice plant, two candy factories, three bakeries, two bottling plants, three creameries, three mattress factories, 175 retail establishments, five wholesale grocery houses, two major produce companies…”
To a rural resident of my generation, it boggles the mind to imagine purchasing so many of those kitchen staples from a local source. Yet, to many of you reading this essay, that was the norm earlier in your life. Over the years, as rural populations have declined and the food industry has consolidated, whether it is fresh or pre-processed, our food now travels much greater distances to reach us. That is a bit ironic in agriculture-centered communities like Stamford that are surrounded by farms.
For many years, our nation’s agriculture leaders (in both industry and politics) have rightly considered agriculture and food policy a matter of national security. A nation that cannot feed and clothe itself is vulnerable to attacks on its food supply or to the whims of those nations that supply its food and clothing. But what about individual communities? On that point, Wendell Berry had a keen observation in his 2017 essay, “The Thought of Limits in a Prodigal Age” (from the book “The Art of Loading Brush”). Berry wrote:
“I am assuming a need for any locality, region, or nation to provide itself so far as possible with food, clothing, and shelter. Such fundamental economic provision, one would think, should be considered normal or fitting to human inhabitation of the earth. In addition to the economic benefits of local people of local supplies, a future-oriented society such as ours ought to consider the possibility that any locality might become stranded by lasting-interruptions of long-distance transportation.”
In the pre-COVID comfort of 2017, that paragraph might have seemed a bit alarmist. But how about now? Our rural communities—like our nation at large—have become overtly dependent on large, long, multinational supply chains. If many items are delayed in delivery, it is frustrating but no more than an inconvenience. But what about food? That one is decidedly more urgent.
As we work to rejuvenate our local economies, it starts with the “fundamental economic provision” of food, clothing, and shelter. A nation should work to provide that for its people, but so should a local community. Rural towns like Stamford might not need three creameries and two candy factories in the future (or maybe they do!) but rural leaders should examine the opportunities for local food and promote, encourage, and invest in those opportunities.
A local community that can feed itself is poised to thrive regardless of the world around it. I have a few specific ideas on how we can make that happen. Stay tuned next week.
James Decker is the Mayor of Stamford, Texas and the creator of the West of 98 website and podcast. Contact James and subscribe to these essays at westof98.substack.com and subscribe to West of 98 wherever podcasts are found.