Bookstore as communication conduit

The set-up:

Anne from the bookstore calls about two weeks ago to let me know that Ariel (a poetry collection by Sylvia Plath) is in.  Apparently my darling husband had ordered it to use while writing his next novel.  I may or may not have told my darling husband of her call.

The aforementioned bookstore is 25 miles away, but in the same town as my nursing school and Bud's Tae-kwon-do classes.  There are plenty of opportunities to go and pick up the book.   There are also plenty of times to let my husband know that said book is in. And plenty of time for my husband to let me know that he did indeed pick up the book.

The scene:

I walk into the bookstore, and after perusing for a few moments (I didn't find anything that struck my fancy, but this is probably because my brain was so focused on school and became overwhelmed by the vast selection of interesting titles) I approached the sales counter. After exchanging pleasantries (I'm a familiar face in the shop)...

"I'm here to pick up a book, Ariel.  A book of poems" (I didn't know it was Plath at that time).

A slight pause by Meghan, one of the shopkeepers.  She glances over at Michelle, the owner.

"I don't think Tom picked it up, but he may have" I quickly add, in case there was some confusion. 

"No, it's up there, it's hardcover" Michelle says over her shoulder gesturing towards the reserved book section.

As Meghan hands me the book, I comment that sometimes my husband and I aren't the best with communicating these mundane details to one another.   Both women give a knowing laugh.  

"So now the bookstore is going to act as the medium for your communication! We'll just pass the messages between you two" Meghan exclaims. Then more seriously,  "If he comes in later, we'll let him know you picked it up." (Of course, if we were like the rest of the general populations, we would both have cell phones  smart phones and be able to text one another about these little items.  But, we are not the general population).

"That would be fabulous! Thanks."

Seriously, while we talk about the big things, my darling husband and I forget the little things.  The other night we thought the other person had let the mutt inside.  Nope.  She spent the night on the porch (although she didn't seem to be too bothered by it).  Then there's the communication that does occur, but follow-through is lacking.  It goes something like this:

"Honey, can you pick up some milk while you're out?"

"Sure."

30 minutes later...

"Did you get the milk?"

"Nope, I forgot!"

Which of course leads us to other establishments that act as communication mediums for us. The post office ("He already picked up the mail today") and the general store ("I just saw her when she came in to get the milk").  But I digress.

As I pay for the book, Meghan reminds me that I will get the 15% discount next time I come in (frequent buyers get frequent discounts). 

"But make sure you come in and spend it before he does!"

No worries.  I'll forget to tell him!

Top Three Unexpected Country Moments of 2011

I know we are already well into the second month of the year, but while spinning some wool this evening, I was inspired.  And I haven't been inspired in a while (hence, no posts) so here it is.  Three of the top unexpected country moments of last year.

3.  At spinning group back in December, we were going around the circle for show and tell (I know, sounds elementary, but it's how we get to see each other's work and share ideas and upcoming events).  We get to Mother K, who is a nun and shepherd of actual sheep at the local convent.  Mother K had spent all day tending to the animals and had basically decided she needed a break for a while, so she came to  spinning group.  She stated somewhat sheepishly (no pun intended), "Nobody there knows I'm gone."  Then in a more playful confident tone, "It's easier to ask for forgiveness than to seek permission!"  Maybe I shouldn't be surprised by this statement as country nuns are people too and need breaks just like the rest of us.  And they certainly aren't infallable either.

2.  The husband of a friend of mine who is a nice guy and a "real" farmer and do-it-yourselfer (rough around the edges, slaughters his own beef cows, owns multiple tractors, hays his own fields, fells his own trees, builds his own house) stopped by one morning asking me for advice.  The questions were initially about nursing school, which caught me even more off guard, because it was the last thing I would expect from this person (he was looking into pursuing a "real" career).  We stood around for a while, looking at the pigs, talking about farming, the new USDA-approved slaughterhouse opening up, the harvest, etc. like any country farmers would do.  Huh.  While my darling husband has been able to navigate this road much more easily than I (no doubt in part because he is male and the perceived "head of household"), it only took me 5 years of running a small farm to earn some farmer respectability.  Not bad, in the grand scheme of things.  Kristin Kimball writes about a similar experience on her farm in The Dirty Life (I can't quote it exactly because I lent the book out to somebody but I don't remember to whom!). 

1.  My darling husband and I were sharing a quiet meal together in the kitchen one December day when the dogs started barking.  Old Farmer J down the street (another "real" farmer) was at the door.  He wanted to know if we were interested in a Kitchen Table discussion about local food and fiber.  Here is a guy who has worked on a farm his entire life, who puts up 10,000 bales of hay a year,  sells his own grain mixtures and basically lives off the land, and now is spear-heading a local movement.  While we have bought hay and grain and lumber from him for the last three years,  he is probably the last person I would put under the label "visionary".  And yet, here he is, driving up and down the valley, stopping at all the farms, big or small, wondering if we would be interested in such a discussion.  The group has already met twice, and what a lovely range of farming personalities.  The group consists of a couple life-long, honest farmers; there are several yuppy farmers; there are the farmers who want to be organic and use environmentally friendly practices; there are farmers who want to raise exotics; there are farmers who want to barter; farmers who want to sell their goods down in NYC.  We have already decided to set up a farmer's marker right in our little village on Thursday afternoons during the growing season.  Goods ranging from fruits and vegetables to honey to the fiber arts to meat to homemade goat milk fudge and breads will potentially all be available for sale.  Even if it never really gets off the ground, the fact that this particular person had a vision and acted on it is a testimony to all that is good and surprising in the world!

Of Dirty Living and Rent-a-Rams

I finished Radical Homemakers over the weekend, and I'm looking forward to reading The Dirty Life by Kristin Kimball, an author who left the hectic life of NYC to work and live on a farm in Essex, NY.  The general idea of removing oneself from the extractive economy and towards a productive economy is powerful in my mind.  Honestly, I looked at the painted plywood counter tops in my kitchen the other night from a whole new perspective.  My counter tops are certainly functional and they don't really look that bad.  In fact, unless I point it out, people don't tend to notice. 

Whether this can be attributed to merely reading a book, or the alternative healing treatments I've been receiving, or a midlife crisis, my whole philosophy on enjoying life is not-so-subtly shifting. 

A friend just mentioned that there is a movie out, Affluenza, which I look forward to seeing.  Apparently, its basic premise is that affluence has become a disease.  Again, Shannon Hayes does a much better job at illustrating this whole idea in Radical Homemakers.  People simply aren't considering the hidden costs to living by the philosophy of always wanting/feeling they need more, more, more.  They're so focused on the destination, that they forget about the journey.  Our children are also trained in this idea, starting from the very beginning of their formal education.  Get good grades so you can go to college, and be successful (make a lot of money?).  Today, kids are in it all for the grades, not for the learning and they readily admit this to their teachers.

On a lighter note, our rent-a-ram, George, arrived yesterday.  We're breeding Tess, and two half sisters (one is Rachel's daughter, Velma the other Tess' Velveeta; both born in 2009).  "Auntie" Rachel who failed to get knocked up last year, is spending some quality girl time with the two ewe lambs from this year, far, far away from George.  Hopefully, Tess, Velma, and Velveeta will throw twins. This will mean our flock may double in size next year, and our lamb/wool operation could significantly increase.

Radical Homemaking

Luke was kind of curious about me taking the picture so he was crawling out of the basket as I took this shot.  I could tell you that the dynamic duo  are simply taking a break from all of their hard work on the farm, but in reality they've been lounging there all day.  Of course, they did just get spayed and neutered two days ago, so they may be feeling under the weather. 

I'm reading Radical Homemakers by Shannon Hayes (the link is to the right) and I'm absolutely enthralled.  There are so many facets to discuss, but I think if you visit Shannon's website, you'll get the basic ideas.  For anybody who is in the rat race and is frustrated with it, but can't see any viable alternatives, you may appreciate this new paradigm (and aside from believing in the four tenets of ecological sustainability, social justice, family and community, the only other commonality of the author's interviewees was that they could cook, so don't go saying that you can't because you don't farm, or you live in a city etc).  The quotation that hits home the most thus far is from Ellen Goodman:  Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work, driving through traffic in a car that you are still paying for, in order to get to the job that you need so you can pay for the clothes, car and the house that you leave empty all day in order to afford to live in it.

There have been a couple recent events that have made me question my own involvement in the rat-race.  The current state of our public education system, which really does a disservice to our youth by stymieing their creative and critical thinking skills, continues to bother me (and since I am a teacher, I feel that I condone it).  Also, I just went to hear a local Holocaust survivor share her story.  Coming away from that, the only thing one can think of is, "What the heck are we doing?!"  Let us get back to basics, throw all of the excess out and remind ourselves that we are one human family, and we have to take care of each other. 

My darling husband and I are figuring out how we can "opt out" of the corporate world to which we all seem bound.  This idea has obviously been growing in our heads independently for a while, but it is very scary to leave the supposed security of a job with benefits and retirement (don't worry Mom and Dad, this is not something that is going to happen in the next two years), and I certainly have been more reticent than he to move on. We have been raised to think that being part of the system is the only way to survive well.  Reading through Radical Homemakers and other books has helped me realize that there is another way, and that it really does make sense on many different levels.

On a completely different note, while writing this post I inadvertantly started baking the dough that was rising on the wood stove.  So I made the dough (intended for a loaf) into small flatbreads.  Sadly, the wood stove was so hot, that it broke the pizza stone that the bread was on).  A temporary loss for pizza making, but a gain in realizing that we can use the woodstove for cooking and baking instead of the gas oven we have (pancakes, rolls, pizza, stews are all coming to mind).

The State of Our Society

Ideas have been swirling around in my head for months now about the state of our materialistic culture.  I fear I could write a book, but my thoughts are nowhere near coherent enough at this point.  The triggers for the following post are, in no particular order:

1.  The incredibly rude behavior brought on by cell phone users in public spaces
2.  The Chilean miner rescue
3.  The inability for today's students to actually think critically about a question and problem solve
4.  The amount of money in big business that looks at profit margins instead of the greater good

I will attempt to connect this all, although I've added a little something to the hot cider I'm drinking, and it is a Tuesday night after all.

I have become disenchanted with education (you know that already if you are a follower of the blog).  I am most severely disenchanted with the way in which our students are conditioned to learn.  Case in point:  I'm having my kids conduct a research project that requires them to develop hypotheses about a certain procedure.  There is really no right answer, because the procedures were done in the past, in some cases, thousands of years ago.  But through lab activities, the kids have learned concepts which provide them with the background knowledge to actually construct a viable hypothesis.  They have struggled with this.  I am sure this age group will be known as the 'Google' generation, because they think they can find any answer by just googling it.  When was the wheel invented?  I'll google it.  How is an arch constructed?  I'll google it.  They are so used to instant answers and instant gratification that they no longer have the attack skills necessary to problem solve.  Furthermore, they also no longer have the patience to struggle through the problem.  Which means, sadly, that they know no longer feel the joy and sense of accomplishment when they finally figure it out.  The passion of learning for the sake of enlightenment seems gone. 

Part of this, perhaps, is just the older generation looking at the younger generation and reminiscing for the "good old days".  But I am convinced there has been a fundamental shift in the way kids learn, and how they expect to learn.   And I think this new way is not necessarily helpful for society at large.

The most detrimental result of this new way of thinking is the lack of true social growth in individuals.  Instead of debating a problem with group members, kids go straight to the computer.  They don't learn how to argue effectively, to respect each other's opinions or to work together as a team.  In fact, with the advent of the cell phone and texting, kids don't even need to physically see each other anymore.  I believe there have been statistics published that a lower percentage of teenagers are actually getting their licences, because there is no need to physically hang out anymore.  As a side note, the amount of cyberbullying that occurs now is disheartening.  Kids don't have to be mean to each other face to face, and thus it's easier to be mean and say hurtful things.  Again, this demonstrates the lack of opportunity to learn and practice much needed social interaction.  Direct eye contact, civility, reading body language, etc.   Plus, if they could, kids would have the cell phone would be out 24/7.  Perhaps it is becoming socially acceptable to text while having a conversation with a real live person out at a restaurant.  Perhaps it is becoming acceptable to always be available to talk by phone; if it rings, you answer it.  Perhaps it is becoming acceptable to let the world know what you are doing every second of every day (Yes, I am a FB user, and I do post my status occasionally).   Where is the line?  Whatever happened to privacy? Whatever happened to downtime? What ever happened to real friends?  

I worry about all of this because from an evolution point of view our bodies and minds are not designed to always be on.  New York may be the city that never sleeps, but our bodies and our brains do need to sleep.  We are not capable of the constant stimulation (or the instant gratification). Something has to give, although I'm not sure what it is.

And yet, as a society, we seem to go on, driven by our need to get more NOW, do more NOW.  Parents are working two or three jobs to maintain the lifestyle they choose (or feel the need) to create for themselves.  There is this outside pressure that chants "More, More, More" incessantly.  Again, it is the children who suffer.  Many kids have very little meaningful contact with parents, but instead are left at home staring at some sort of screen.  We don't know what the long-term effects of this behavior are.  The hand-eye coordination, I'm sure, is much better in this set of kids, but what about their attention spans? Or, their ability to behave appropriately in social circles.  Or the opportunity to learn from older generations (vertical learning) as opposed from their peers (horizontal learning).

The other group that suffers are the millions of workers who are producing the goods that we demand.  I admit, I was glued to my computer screen watching the streaming video of the Chilean miner rescue.  There are no words to describe the strength and perseverance of the miners or all of those individuals and groups who assisted in rescuing them.  It was helpful to see good news (even if it was sensationalized) when we are usually constantly bombarded with stories of violence, sadness, death.  Unfortunately, only a few days later, we got news of a mine collapse in China.   Around the same time, my brother shared the beginning of one recent Simpson's episodes where they portray the darker side of large-scale commodity production (come to think of it, is there a lighter side?).   I am convinced that if we reverted back to local economies the demand for such large mining operations (and other forms of production) where safety and human welfare is sacrificed for money would diminish. 

But of course, my students remind me (after we read "The Sacred Rac" in my class) that at this point it is highly improbably that we could return to local economies.  Our very infrastructure is set up to require transportation to a commercial center, to purchase food that was produced thousands of miles away, to require transportation to go to school, to use energy that was harvested on the other side of the world.   How do we go back?  Never mind that big corporations are going to do their best to keep us wanting more.  After all, it's all about the bottom dollar.   And that, my friends, is the sad conclusion.   We have sacrificed our sense of self, our sense of social responsibility to our fellow human being and to our environment, our sense of creative thought.  All in the name of what?  Progress? Money?  We need to slow down, think about the consequences of our actions and consider this question: Just because we can, does it mean we should?

Addendum:  After drafting this post, my darling husband mentioned Bill McKibben's work to me, which I had heard about, but, unfortunately, I have not read much of.  I look forward to reading his book, Deep Economy: the Wealth of Communities and the Durable Future.