Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, June 2, 1994 TAG: 9406100001
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By JOE KENNEDY STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
``As a member of the Maple Valley Extension Homemakers (FCE),'' it said, ``I would like to express my sincere regret at the forthcoming disbandment of our group.''
King went on to express her sympathies to other members of the organization, some with more than a half-century of involvement, and to absolve the agents and advisors from the Virginia Cooperative Extension Service, which has long provided information and programs to the clubs. The agents, she said, had no control over decisions made by the National Association for Family and Community Education, the group's new name.
Change has come to the former National Extension Homemakers Council, a venerable group devoted to educating and improving their families and communities.
Not only has its name changed. Its national dues have risen from $1 per year to $12.50. Its national leadership has embarked upon an improved communications campaign and established new teaching materials and subjects encompassing such matters as family literacy and the quality of children's television programming.
They say the changes are necessary if the organization, which dates to the 1930s nationally and to the early 1920s in Virginia, is to survive.
The changes have gone down hard among the membership, especially the old-timers who recall the clubs' rural roots, strong social component and emphasis on hand-crafts and community service.
Many individuals and clubs have quit. All five clubs in Highland County withdrew, though they still exist as community organizations without formal ties to the extension service. Statewide, membership is estimated to have declined by half, from about 6,000 to about 3,000.
In the past year, the Roanoke Valley's clubs have dropped from 12 to six, the membership from 210 to about 70.
Nationally, membership has been falling by 30,000 to 40,000 per year since it peaked, in the late '50s, at 1.4 million, said national president Judy Weinkauf. About 300,000 people, mostly women, are on the rolls now. Two-thirds are over 65. The clubs are in 44 states and two U.S. territories.
The facts are shocking to outsiders, but unavoidable, Weinkauf said by telephone from her office in Tulsa. The $1 per person national dues, in effect until this year, were insufficient to underwrite communication between the national and the state and local organizations. The boost to $12.50 - a compromise figure - outraged many older members, who remember when the dues were a dime. Many have never worked outside the home, and many are on fixed incomes, as well.
The hike brought the total annual dues to $19.50.
``It's no more than two meals out, or less than $2 per month,'' said Evelyn Thomas, the association's Roanoke Valley president, who attends meetings of the Summit Hills club because Fairview, her original club, dropped out.
Others don't see it that way. And, they say, the issue is more than just dues.
``The thing was, they had been changing,'' King, a seven-year member at age 33, said from her home in Monterey. ``Our national organization had started really taking on some political agendas which most of the members didn't like. They felt there were other places they could do that.
``Extension Homemakers was kind of sacred to them. It was a free service to these people where they could learn tips on canning and farming and child care and doing crafts and developing their skills without going away from homes for school and so forth.
``Then they developed into social clubs as well as informative. When the national organization started going toward more political agendas, most club members didn't like it. We had to keep a whole lot more records and paperwork, which no one was real keen on that, either ... We still wanted to keep it a hometown community organization. We wanted to help our own communities right here, not rally for safety belt laws.''
The clubs have always been involved in national affairs, campaigning for vaccinations and hot lunches for school children, seat belt use in cars and radon testing in homes. Locally, members raise funds for fire departments, rescue squads and scholarships, provide blankets and such to nursing home residents and engage in other worthwhile activities.
But nationally, interest in the group flagged. The population became less rural, the membership ceased to grow and the coffers were, according to consultants, dangerously depleted.
The association doesn't even have a permanent national headquarters. It goes wherever the national president, a volunteer, happens to live. Plans are under way for establishing the headquarters in Northern Kentucky.
As the members aged, their activism diminished.
``This organization began with what I refer to as crusading women,'' Weinkauf said, ``and that's what we're trying to bring it back to.''
She said recent visits from consultants pointed the way toward more relevance and improved communication - which could not be done on dues of $1 per year. One target is the woman or man whose children have become independent enough to allow them time to work on important issues. The members may be urban or rural - urban clubs have existed for years. But the group is fighting the enemies of all such clubs, including the transient society and other options for people's time.
It's not the first controversy to strike the ranks - government-mandated integration of the clubs took a toll in the '70s - only the latest, and perhaps the most threatening. But Weinkauf has hope.
``There's no doubt in my mind that we can attract many members by putting some money on marketing,'' she said, ``because people are interested in family.''
Nor should the group's remaining strength be underestimated. A few people left Franklin County's 10 clubs, said extension agent Rita Rufty, but 175 remain, and they have ``really jumped into the new programs of work.'' The association's leadership training seminars are invaluable, she said.
``I would say that the dues increase and name change encouraged a lot of our members to make a choice,'' said Martha Durst, a former Virginia president who lives in Kearneysville, W.Va. ``They were tired. ... This gave them a reason to bow out without saying, `I'm too old and too tired. I don't want to do this any more.' ''
The turmoil has brought a lot of pain, said Jean Vandergrift, the Roanoke County extension agent who works with the clubs. But the downsizing may yet revitalize the group, Durst said.
``To me, the future looks bright. It's a time of rebuilding, probably the most exciting time in my years in the organization.''
by CNB