A FEW WEEKS AGO, an afternoon thunderstorm dumped almost 2 inches of rain and nickel-sized hail on Rexburg, Idaho, where I happen to live. To many of you in wetter climes, this may seem trivial. But in eastern Idaho, where it usually takes a whole year to get a mere 13 inches of precipitation, 2 inches in 45 minutes is overwhelming.
Main Street became a river, hundreds of basements were flooded, and thousands of college students were displaced as their lower level apartments were inundated with, in some cases, four feet of muddy water. It was no Katrina, but our flash flood did a number to our town.
The impressive, if not at all surprising, part of the whole ordeal was how quickly folks circled the wagons and got to work helping their besieged brethren. Bucket lines formed apparently spontaneously to bail water. Basements and apartments were emptied in a flash to save their contents from the deluge. Families opened their homes to neighbors and strangers alike.
A Facebook page was set up to help local businesses broadcast their intentions to help: a local nonprofit donated new shoes; apartment complexes offered free rooms; a dry cleaner cleaned wedding dresses and bedding for free; a furniture store completely slashed its mattress prices; a computer shop rescued data from submerged hard drives. The list went on an on, and it made me feel a little guilty for not doing more to help. It was, cliché as it sounds, heartwarming in the midst of our little disaster.
As I go around to meetings and field days and get to know people throughout the potato industry, I’m always astonished at the ability of growers, packers, shippers, field men, chemical reps and everyone else to come up with solutions to whatever catastrophe may be facing the industry. There’s always something to be freaked out about, but the industry always seems to figure it out.
I think it’s because the industry is made up of folks like you who would do just about anything for a neighbor in need. You know, deep down, that even though Jim down the road has been stealing your water for years, when it hits the fan, you’ll be the first one there to help him get on his feet—and he’d do the same for you. Armed with that comforting knowledge, it’s a little easier to swallow scaling back production for the good of the industry as a whole, or to drag yourself to some meeting just as your crop is starting to bulk up.
Somehow, the American ag industry has managed to foster fierce competition among its participants while maintaining perhaps the strongest industry alliances in the entire economy.
And that, my friends, is because, when the hailstorm hits and the floods come, you know exactly where you’ll be.