Relationships are our greatest resource.
This is a mantra I spotted on a t-shirt more than a year ago in Brooklyn while participating in a series of community events centered on protecting wild salmon habitat. I realized almost immediately that sentiment was at the heart of much of what I do.
Whether I’m coordinating repeat classroom visits with teachers, connecting with fisherfolk about policy shifts, or collaborating with chefs on hosting a Chefs Camp or KNOW FISH Dinner, relationships are the currency driving the community building and education that I do.
The past few months have illustrated how relationships, both longtime and emerging, are essential to effecting substantive change in our seafood systems.
The reality of this dynamic recently fortified me after fate knocked me down a peg or three.
A full plate
It has been an extraordinary couple of months, at times deflating and inspiring, stupefying and enlightening, draining and energizing, dispiriting and heart-warming… and humbling. I love the work that I do building community around local food systems and the people I do that work with. It is challenging and rewarding and has commanded a bit too much of my time in the past few months.
Since early August, I have helped plan and host a Slow Fish Chefs Camp in Oakland, and presented to the Slow Fish Global Assembly as part of Slow Food Terra Madre in Italy in September. I worked with a dedicated team to finalize details for Slow Fish 2024 in Charleston, S.C., a network gathering of folks from across the continent in early November just before the election.
Pneumonia laid me flat and prevented me from attending the conference that we had planned for more than a year. I was completely demoralized when I realized I couldn’t go.
Teamwork heals
But I got Zen when I saw the team of 15-20 folks step up and make sure everything was in place. I realized the event was going to happen whether I was there or not. I realized my trust in the team was well placed, and I could let go of the reins without worrying or feeling guilty. I found solace watching things come together from afar. I took some measure of pride in watching the event unfold beautifully because of our efforts during the past year and the commitment of those on site.
Brett Tolley and Niaz Dorry in disguise, and in front of the crowd on the first day of the event. Photo: Brett Tolley
I was deeply touched (and a bit mortified) when folks sent photos of two of my mentors holding up big pictures of my face on stage during the plenary presentation that they gave in my place, saying their job was to be me. I thought I was witnessing part of a Monty Python skit, especially when folks sent random pictures of themselves posing with my picture throughout the weekend. It was heartwarming and damn funny.
Well, my “presence” was at least amusing … and acknowledged. Photo: Brett Tolley
Twenty years ago I would have railed against the cosmic tumblers that clicked into place to rob me of the experience of gathering with the network in person for the first time in 6 years. I’d probably still be angry and sad.
But this time, the entire experience was truly humbling. Sucking wind after walking up a flight of stairs is humbling for someone who runs on trails three times a week. Feeling good about regaining my appetite after fever tamped that down for a couple of days was also humbling.
But the actions of friends and colleagues to remind me that I was spiritually present in hearts and minds was truly remarkable.
Relationships matter
Along this journey, I learned something about myself.
Of course I missed the compelling, interactive Deep Dive conversations we’d planned with a team of experts on things ranging from aquaculture with values to processing at a local scale. I missed brainstorming creative paths for Slow Fish in the future with attendees.
And yes, I missed the amazing food! (See the photos and narrative from Hamida Kinge’s guest blog last month.)
But most of all, I realized during and after the event that I missed reconnecting with longtime friends and colleagues, and building new relationships with folks I’d be meeting in person for the first time … that promise of uniting around a shared set of values to support local seafood systems and local seafood producers.
The list of folks who made this event shine is long, and it includes everyone in attendance in Charleston. I’d also like to thank the entire planning team (including the Slow Food Charleston community) for committing much of their time and creative energy for the past several months, especially the final weeks and days leading up to the event. The team really stepped up when needed most. Huge appreciation to Brett Tolley and Niaz Dorry of North American Marine Alliance, two of my mentors who jumped in last minute to take over my role as co-host and plenary session lead. They united the community heading into the weekend, even if they had to use my face as a stage prop. Big thanks to One Fish Foundation Communications Coordinator Jennifer Halstead, who also was unable to attend, but who tirelessly worked to keep attendees updated, planning teams coordinated, and agendas finalized.
Finally, this event would not have happened without Slow Food USA Programs Director Mara Welton, my sister in Rising Tide programming. With her superpower organization and coordination skills humming, she ensured everything was on track for Nov. 1, and managed on-sight logistics and team coordination seamlessly so attendees were able to fully engage at the event.
All of this teamwork, rooted in relationships built on trust, reminded me of what is so important and powerful and connective about the work that I do.
Top photo: Slow Food USA Programs Director Mara Welton (left) and Slow Food Charleston Board Member Ashley Hay Mitchell were two of the team members that stepped up to make sure things went smoothly. Photo: Crowd sourced
