“There were areas of the law I did not want to go into because of the high emotional level, like divorce law,” says Monica Rainge, a lawyer and certified mediator with the Federation of Southern Cooperatives/Land Assistance Fund, a group working with mainly African-American farmers in the South. “So I got into land retention and heir’s property work. But I didn’t realize that it is even more contentious than divorce. You are dealing with people’s lives, and often I am at a table with people crying. It’s really emotional.”

Rainge works in one of the 41 states that allow outside “certified mediators” to meet with farmers. State mediation services (paid for by USDA) have been used for years to settle disputes between neighbors, lenders and creditors, and within USDA programs. But the 2018 farm bill (H.R.2 – Agriculture Improvement Act of 2018), signed into law by President Trump in December, made funding available for “state mediation programs” to work with families specifically on “family farm transition.”

This means that, for the first time, farmers can access free legal advice and family mediation, even in states where extension specialists are not available to work one-on-one. The farm bill also made it possible for those without a clear title, like those with heir’s property, to be able to apply for USDA loans and programs.

“The South has always largely been an agrarian community,” says Rainge. “Land and farming is all they have known. And a lot of farmers want to die on their tractor. So they are extremely emotional conversations to have.”

There is help

Simply starting the conversation with one’s family is a critical piece of the puzzle, and a handful of nonprofits also want to help families get going. The Practical Farmers of Iowa, for example, is trying to jump-start those conversations by commissioning Map of My Kingdom, a one-woman play about farm transfer, written by Iowa’s Poet Laureate, Mary Swander.

The group follows up the play with a “legacy letter“ writing workshop in which participants are asked to write a letter to future generations about their most powerful memories of the farm and how they would like it to be maintained after they are gone. “Often people go to classes and start with the spreadsheets,” says Worley. “But then they say, ‘What am I trying to achieve?’ They don’t know what they want to accomplish. The play and the letters set the landscape to address what is important to them.”

But as I sit and watch farmers bare their hearts and souls to Roger Betz at their yearly business analysis meetings, it is clear that while classes and plays might help spark the conversations that need to happen, there is nothing like having a guide you know and trust to facilitate the really hard conversations.

Margie First doesn’t even recall reaching out to Roger Betz after Dan’s aneurysm. “I just felt like he was always there,” she tells me. Roger worked with the family before, and had helped Dan calculate the farm’s finances. But like the rest of the family, his role changed once Dan fell ill. “I have so many emails I sent, and some of them were not about the farm, they were about my relationship with Josh and how to handle that. I needed help in that aspect, too. [Roger] was more than an extension agent to us, he was also a friend.”

This story was published in partnership with Harvest Public Media, a public media reporting collaboration focused on food and agriculture in the Midwest and Great Plains.