Every week, another local or regional story appears about some old farmer trying to avoid selling out the family homestead to developers. Of course, during that same week, stories abound of old farmers who, perhaps not realizing options exist for them to avoid doing so, sell out hundreds of green and pristine acres to Greedy McMansion, Inc.
And so it goes. Instead of locally growing crops and honoring the land with proper stewardship, we grow sprawl. It's a broken paradigm here in New England and we all know it. But can we stop it? Alcoholics and drug addicts reach a point where they either resolve to "recover" or else they die. Can Americans reach this point with our collective addiction to consumerism and its architectural manifestation: sprawl?
Maybe New England will learn vicariously from Atlanta's example. In case you haven't heard about the drought in the South, it's far more serious than what little has been reported. Because no checks were ever made on developers down there—who got every tax break, every subdivision, every strip mall approved—Atlanta and many other communities have spread themselves so thin that they will soon run out of water. An entire major river has been sucked dry and the reservoirs retain only a few weeks' worth of water. Then it's gone. The spigot will run dry.
Imagine that: one of America's "leading" cities paralyzed by its own blinkered stupidity. It's not that voices of reason weren't raised along the way to this crisis. They just weren't raised loud enough. Now, "I told you so" seems churlish when millions are facing drought. But there it is.
This past week, I found a story about a retired farmer in New Hartford, Conn. named Alfred Sabolcik who still owns his small (95-acre) farm. The farm has been in the family for three generations, but he has no heirs to take over the enterprise. "I hate to see it go to houses," Sabolcik plaintively told a reporter. "There used to be all farms around here, and into Canton. Now it's just development, everywhere." Mr. Sabolcik is in negotiations with a local land trust to sell the development rights to the land—essentially, keeping it farmland for perpetuity—while he lives out his remaining years there.
There are many other Sabolciks out there, waiting for someone to tell them how they can save their land from developers. In my own town, we would not have saved two farms like Mr. Sabolcik's had we not gone directly to the farmers and explained the options to them. To a person, these farmers don't want to sell out. It is not something they want on their consciences when they meet their Maker, knowing granddad's favorite old fishing hole is the centerpiece of some ridiculous "Lifestyle Center" or Wal-Mart plaza. And, to a person, these farmers will tell you the only people who ask them about their land are the developers. Like date rapists, agents of Greedy McMansions pound on farmhouse doors across America, litter mail boxes and pepper phone lines with offers until the lure of instant bucks becomes too much to resist.
And yet, for whatever reason, the people who want to save the land (e.g., 99 percent of the rest of the surrounding community) don't even contact the old farmer. Now, however, there are no more excuses. You can arm yourself with the facts and figures at places like the American Farmland Trust (www.farmland.org).
It's easy now to get a profile for your state or local district and ascertain exactly what farms remain in your area. On every one, dramas like the one at Mr. Sabolcik's house are now taking place, discussions around the kitchen table, agonized plaints of "We can't sell it out, think of great-gramps…he'd roll over in his grave…")
It's time we all join the conversation.?
