Well, that’s a wrap.
After roughly nine hours, the 2026 New York State Agricultural Society Forum is officially in the books. As I’m writing this, I’m on the drive home, processing the day and maybe a little more than just the day.
In many ways, the forum unfolded exactly as I expected. It felt a little odd wandering around without a big role. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t constantly checking the clock, worrying about whether we were on schedule, or thinking three steps ahead about what needed to happen next. I did have a few small parts to play with helping with pictures, lending a hand here and there, and doing a few things to support fundraising efforts, but the feeling was different. Noticeably different.
The location was new, and I’ll say this: it was beautiful. The layout worked incredibly well, the flow felt right, and the setting matched the tone of what the Society continues to become more polished, more professional, and more intentional every year. The leadership continues to grow. The program continues to improve. It’s clear that the organization hasn’t just maintained momentum; it’s gained it.
One of the unexpected gifts of the day was the freedom to simply be present. I had meaningful conversations with the Commissioner of Agriculture, recently retired colleagues, several influential individuals across the state, farm partners, and clients — people I don’t get to see nearly as often as I’d like. Some I see once a year, some every few years, and some only in passing. That, right there, is the heart of why I go to the Agricultural Society Forum.
And for the first time in a long time, I got to enjoy breakfast and lunch. Those of you who’ve been involved in leadership roles know how rare that is.
As the day wound down, I found myself feeling reflective. On the drive home, it hit me: another chapter of my life has closed.
I’ve changed roles. I’ve changed perspectives. And while I imagine I’ll still be involved with the Agricultural Society in some capacity — attending the forum, the summer meeting, volunteering on committees, working with young people, offering mentorship and guidance when asked — the heavy lift is over. The days of carrying major leadership responsibilities are behind me.
And honestly? That’s okay.
Looking back over the last 25 years, it’s remarkable to see how far the Society has come and how much it has evolved. As my influence takes a step back, I’m genuinely encouraged by the people stepping forward. The board is strong. The foundation is solid. The organization is in a really good place to move ahead.
If I had to use an analogy, it would feel a bit like being a proud parent, happy and sad at the same time. Proud of what’s been built. Proud of the people carrying it forward. A little emotional about letting go.
The good news is this: I’m not done. Not even close.
This shift frees up headspace, time, and capacity — not just for deeper engagement with the Agricultural Society in a different way, but also for other organizations and efforts that matter deeply to me. It allows me to support where I’m most needed, rather than where I’ve always been.
One thing that keeps ringing true is this: at some point, your time must come to an end for something to remain healthy. Leadership transitions matter. Term limits matter. New voices matter.
There was a long-tenured NFL coach relieved of his duties the other week, and one of the commentators said something that stuck with me: after hearing the same message and the same culture for so long, sometimes it’s simply time for change. Not because it failed, but because evolution demands it.
That philosophy is built into the Agricultural Society, and I believe it positions the organization to remain relevant, strong, and impactful for generations to come.
I’m proud of what we accomplished, humbled to have been part of it, and excited for what’s next.
I’m looking forward to seeing the wrap-up videos, maybe catching up with folks at the summer program, and attending next year’s forum as a full participant — soaking in the networking, the knowledge, and the people.
Different roles. Same heart. New chapter.