Imagine you’ve accepted an invitation to a special NACo policy meeting. The door opens to a conference room with plenty of seats around a long table. After the handshakes, hugs, and quiet introductions, each member comes to the table with more than a cup of coffee—they arrive with concerns, worries about federal policies, and heavy responsibilities from home. The conversation begins.

One county commissioner nearby speaks of the “pressure” on local systems, unmet needs, “things are moving fast – we don’t really understand what they’re doing.” His voice is steady but weary.

A six-term county board member with silver hair leans in and shares the story of a constituent’s journey that brought her to tears. “And her climb was no crystal stair either,” she says with a bittersweet smile. Next comes a member from the heartlands. He speaks of unpicked fields, “We’re not just losing employees—we are losing families in our community; everyone knows we need help,” he says, “but of course, it has to be done right.”

A long-time county judge's resonant voice paints a picture of a different era, recalling his grandfather’s optimism as he worked alongside him in amber fields. Across the table, a young county legislator—raised in the shadow of skyscrapers, with the echo of taxis as the soundtrack of her life—listens intently.

Then she asks a pointed question. It cuts through the noise. The room falls silent. Someone whispers, “Maybe it’s time to change the subject.”

A calm voice at the far end replies, “It’s a good question. We can handle tough conversations at our table. We’re in this together.”

Quiet agreement murmurs through the room. Heads nod. The conversations continue. One by one, voices rise—offering perspective. Some speak from personal history. Many speak with urgency and passion; others suggest caution. All who wish to speak are heard. Occasionally, there are tears, raised voices—still, no one walks out. Each elected official listens to build understanding, make meaningful connections, and grow.

As the night winds down, easy answers don’t emerge but they find something just as important: the will to keep coming back, to speak with respect, and to listen without retreating. Because courageous conversations don’t break us apart. Silence does. And staying at the table together—that’s where real progress begins.

I'm Bob Dixon. I'll always have an open door, and an attentive ear.