Bailand

The sad death of a name

For well over a century, the vast majority of my family has been living, and dying, on a particular piece of land. Some of us, including me, have moved from it, but most remain there, all right next to each other. Six generations of us now.

My great-grandfather bought it and built it, one little parcel of land at a time, expanding until it was quite a holding. He named it Bailand, specifically Bailand Farms, and having spent so much of my life there, I’ve always felt a strong connection to that moniker.

Freshening Barn

Oddly to me, it doesn’t seem to be a name that’s going to continue. I’m sure that the legal corporate name remains Bailand Farms, but the two current generations running it seem eager to make a change. Bailey Farm seems to be the thing now.

How dull.

And a bit of a misnomer. The word ‘farms’ was used, instead of ‘farm’ because when my great-grandfather was creating it that part of our valley was composed of lots of little bitty farms. He slowly consolidated those into a single big one. ‘Farms’ was an acknowledgement of that history.

I suppose that my grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins, and brothers all think the old name sounds too old fashioned or something. Leave it to me, the guy who moved away to hanker for the old name.

It’s different now. All the signs say Bailey. Very little acknowledgement of the old Bailand name remains. It’s smaller too. Buying and selling of neighboring pieces of land has always gone on, but in recent years more selling than buying has occurred. It’s very slowly shrinking, one barn, one home, one field at a time, as more has been sold than purchased.

It goes deeper than that too, I’m afraid. It wasn’t recognized by anyone until after his death, but my father was the glue that held the whole thing together. When he died the family began to fracture. Differing ideas for the present, and differing plans for the future could no longer be resolved.

My grandfather was strong enough to keep those differences from breaking out into open warfare. His voice remained law. But he passed away after my father, and then all hell broke loose. All the family continues working there, but working in different directions, to cross purposes.

Seemingly none seem to understand that harmony of effort is required for continued success over the long term.

Maybe ‘Bailey Farm’ seems much smaller than ‘Bailand Farms.’ Maybe the name has been slowly changed because the new name makes the whole operation seem more manageable.

Maybe ‘Bailand Farms’ implied the huge size of the project. A size that undoubtedly would require all involved to work together. To get along. To share a vision.

But a Farm? Well one man, or one woman, can run a little farm. Consensus and shared decision making isn’t all that vital if it’s just a little farm.

---

If you’re looking for more, everything I wrote last week can be found at: Alkemye.