On my way back from Marquette, I stopped at the farmers market. We have one in Escanaba, too, and I always enjoy checking them out. You can find some great products, meet interesting people, and occasionally learn more about farming than you ever expected. All while shopping for tomatoes.I picked up some tomatoes for salads and carrots, then got talking with a guy selling maple syrup. He was telling me about the realities of being a small farmer. He has about 3,000 maple taps, but even that isn't enough to provide a full-time living. Like a lot of farmers around here, he has to work another job.It got me thinking of how he ight make a living if he expanded, but the investment required—and the years he'd have to wait before seeing a real return—makes it almost impossible for most people unless they're truly passionate and willing to suffer a little for farming.Some of the biggest challenge isn't necessarily finding stores willing to carry his products. It's getting enough volume to make distribution worthwhile. Small stores might order five or ten bottles at a time.
Distributors make things easier, but they take their cut, and then the stores take theirs. As an example there are bigger markets in Wisconsin where he could sell a lot more, but he'd need stores to commit to larger, perhaps quarterly, orders so a farm like his could deliver a truckload at a time and make the trip worthwhile (As a side thought maybe multiple farms could work together to split costs for various products. i.e. a type of farmer group.).In other words, making good maple syrup is one thing. Figuring out how to make a living selling it is another.
Further down the road, I spotted an honor-system egg stand. Five bucks, grab some eggs, and leave your money. How cool is that? Unfortunately, they were out that day, but I always try to buy fresh, local eggs when I can. There's something about getting food directly from the farm that just feels different. And, in my opinion, fresh eggs taste better, too. The chickens might not have a marketing department, but they seem to be doing just fine.
Then I stopped in Gladstone at an Amish business selling cookies and other homemade goodies. I ended up buying some honey, which I'm looking forward to using in the kitchen. I passed on the cookies because I'm trying to watch what I eat. Apparently, my willpower is strongest when the purchase involves honey instead of chocolate chips.
But the visit reminded me of something more important: religious freedom and respect for other people's beliefs are fundamental American values.
We live in a wonderfully diverse country. Amish families, Muslims, Jews, Christians, and people from countless other traditions are all part of the fabric of our communities. We don't have to share someone's beliefs or lifestyle to respect their right to practice their faith. I love the Amish and how they live their lives. In some ways it reminds me of my ancestors and how they lived theirs.
And here's where all these stops along the road connect.
We need to do a much better job supporting local agriculture and local businesses.
COVID showed us what can happen when supply chains break down. We shouldn't have to depend so heavily on distant suppliers for everything we eat when we have farmers right here who could be producing more of it.
Young people want to get into farming, but the startup costs are enormous, the margins can be thin, and the distribution system often works against them. If we don't make it easier for small farms to grow, sell their products, and earn a decent living, those skills and businesses will gradually disappear.
We need policies that help build stronger regional food systems, create better access to markets, and give local farmers a realistic chance to succeed. That doesn't mean producing everything locally. It means making sure a meaningful share of what we eat can come from the people and farms around us.
And there's an economic benefit, too. Tourists love local products. They come here for the honey, maple syrup, homemade goods, and yes, the famous Michigan fudge. They want something authentic that they can't get at the department store back home.
When we buy local, more of that money stays in our communities. We get to know the people producing our food, see where our money goes, and build relationships that are worth more than a receipt.
So today I came home with tomatoes, carrots, and honey—and a reminder that the local economy is about more than shopping.
It's about preserving skills, supporting families, respecting our neighbors, building resilience, and keeping our communities alive.
Support your local farmers. Buy the tomatoes. Pick up the honey. Stop at the roadside egg stand—even if the chickens have temporarily suspended operations.
And take a few minutes to talk to the people behind the products. You might come away with a lot more than groceries.
