The Commissioner and the Collards: How Joe Abston Measures His Harvest in Joy
The Commissioner and the Collards: How Joe Abston Measures His Harvest in Joy
“I don’t think anybody should go hungry if I have food to give.” — Joe Abston
In the quiet wake of dawn of St. Stephens, AL, Washington County Commissioner Joe Abston walks his land before the world wakes. Mr. Joe has deep roots in the land, and his heart is deeply connected to the people. Farming isn’t just a side job for Mr. Joe—it’s a calling. It’s how he stays connected to his roots, his community, and his purpose. In the fall, you’ll find him among his large patches of collard greens, turnip greens, mustard greens, rutabagas, kale, and cabbage, hands deep in the soil – which is no surprise, for farming and service are as intertwined in his life as roots are in the earth. Whether he’s tending his fall or spring, or summer harvest, he’s cultivating more than crops—he’s growing a connection.
For the Man Who Couldn’t Stop Working – It’s a Life of Soil and Service
After 44 years at BASF, a major chemical plant in McIntosh, AL. Mr. Joe could’ve retired and taken it easy. But in 2012, he chose a different path—public service. Elected as commissioner for District 5 as a democrat, he’s been re-elected three times, showing up for his neighbors in a county where accountability still means something. But even with his workload of county business front and central, his ancestors’ land kept calling. His grandfather’s farm became his mission field, and he answered the call with grit, sweat, soil, and service. The land and the whip, a wheel always remembers its ancestors.
The Long Rows and Real Work
If you’ve ever grown something, you know work is a conversation. You put in the effort, the soil responds, and you listen.
This isn’t hobby farming; this is essential, dedicated labor. This isn’t hobby farming; this is essential, dedicated labor. It reminds us that no matter what title you hold – Commissioner, CEO, or anything else – the true foundation of a community is the person who commits to making good food grow. It is that kind of commitment that speaks to the heart of what we do as Black farmers and small business owners.
. It’s hard work—heat, bending, lifting—but it’s also healing. For him, farming is a conversation with the land, a rhythm of labor and listening. And it’s a reminder to all of us that titles don’t define impact—commitment does.
Measuring Success in Community, Not Just Cash
What makes Mr. Joe’s story powerful isn’t just the size of his harvest—it’s the spirit behind it. Yes, he sells his produce. A farm must be sustainable. But he also gives it away. “I don’t think anybody should go hungry if I have food to give,” he says. That’s not just generosity—it’s legacy. It’s the soul of Black farming: growing to survive, sharing to thrive.
Mr. Joe Abston reminds us that true wealth isn’t measured in dollars—it’s measured in the lives you touch and the community you nourish. The joy he feels when handing a bag of fresh okra or cucumbers to someone who cannot afford to buy but truly needs it—that’s the real dividend. That’s the kind of success that strengthens the soul of a community.
For all of us striving to grow our businesses and our farms, let Mr. Joe’s examples guide us: plant your crops, build your business structure, and work hard. But never forget—the greatest harvest is the one you share. That’s what sustains us: our community, our connection, our contribution. That’s the real legacy of the soil.
Through our work at Vivian’s Door, we inspire and invest in Black farmers and underserved small business owners, helping them grow, scale, and reinvest in their communities—paying it forward. As we all take our tents out daily to do the work we do, we must not just focus on ourselves; we must be authentic in our actions and purposeful in the work we do. Like Mr. Joe, it’s about feeding people who need it, teaching children where food comes from, and honoring the resilience of our ancestors. Mr. Joe reminds us that the real dividend isn’t in dollars—it’s in the joy of giving, the strength of community, and the dignity of service.
In his role as Commissioner, Mr. Joe moves with purpose, faith, and spirit. He’s not just focused on main roads—he’s finding out about the dirt roads, the forgotten places. He’s giving voice to the voiceless —the people who need help but often don’t receive it. Whether he’s grading a road or harvesting his fall crop, his goal is the same: nourish the community. That’s leadership rooted in love.
Service: From the Dirt Road to the Dinner Table
For Mr. Abston, farming is simply another way of serving.
Just like he dedicates himself to those endless rows of okra, he brings that same dedication to his public life. He’s not just worried about the main roads; he’s thinking about the people living on the smaller roads, the dirt roads in his district that need attention. He wants to know what can be done to help those citizens.
That’s the beautiful, uncomplicated truth of a life rooted in service. Whether he’s asking about grading a difficult dirt road or harvesting a bucket of cucumbers, his goal is to nourish the community. The land teaches each of us patience, resilience, and the value of a good return on hard work. It also teaches you that you can’t just keep all the good things for yourself.
Our Call to Action
So here’s the call to action: plant your seeds, build your business, and structure it well. But don’t lose sight of the deeper harvest. The relationships you build, the people you feed, the joy you share, that’s real wealth. That’s what sustains us. That’s what creates legacy.
Mr. Joe provides a blueprint for every farmer, every entrepreneur, every community leader—the greatest harvest is the one you share. That’s how we grow. That’s how we win. That’s how we build a future worth passing on.
Source:
Other sources: https://www.basf.com/us/en/who-we-are/organization/locations/find-out-about-basf-in—/Alabama
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