This year, I wanted to take the time to tell three mothers how special they are to me. I am blessed to know many mothers, some of them are friends I grew up with, some are the wives of friends I grew up with and some are women that I simply look up to and hold in a high regard. But, I am especially blessed to have three of the most incredible women who have shown me how truly loved I am.

My family always looked forward to parent’s weekend at my brother’s school, Washington & Lee. Lexington, VA is in one of the most beautiful parts of the country I’ve ever seen. Going there became even more special to us when we met Jen. I still remember the first story I heard about the beautiful woman that is now my sister. She baked Mike a birthday cake, and after eating her baked goods for over a decade now, I am sure it was delicious! I was still a kid so it was difficult at times to see my brother grow up and not be able to relate. But, even at 13 years old, I knew Jen was an incredibly special person. She became part of our family. I’ll never forget walking into the church on the day of their wedding and seeing my brother standing at the altar, smiling from ear to ear. That is the happiest I had ever seen him and to this day, I have hope that one day I will be that happy too. Through the years, Jen has become one of my most important role models. She has this unbelievable ability to relate to people and when she asks you how you are, she means it. She can take one look at my face and know if something is bothering me or if I’m happy about something and I’m just dieing to tell someone. I keep all of our talks close to my heart because they always lift me up and encourage me. For the past three and a half years, I have seen Jen grow as a mother. I have come to appreciate the fact that both of my parents got us ready for school and both of my parents were home when we stepped off the bus in the afternoon. This is very uncommon in today’s world as women have been encouraged to be equally as successful in the professional world. My opinion of a woman’s success completely changed when I watched Jen set out as a mother. Jen is one of the most intelligent people I know. She has worked at Sothebys in NYC, at a zoo in Norfolk, with Operation Smile and for a book editing company in Durham. But, as I have witnessed, there is no job more testing nor more rewarding than motherhood. She and my brother are raising two of the most amazing children. My nieces, Chloe and Lily, may not know it just yet but they are two of the luckiest little girls in the world. They are deeply loved and there is no greater power than that. I am so thankful to be able to watch Jen become the mother that she is and I can’t wait for the day when I might have my own children alongside of her. Jen, thank you so much for who you are to me and what you have brought to my life.

Every summer, my mom, my sister and I would drive to Stamford, CT to spend a week with my grandmother. The highlights of these trips included lobster dinners, taking walks to get ice cream, watching old movies cuddled in Grandma’s living room and visiting family in New Canaan. I’ve always known that my godmother, Ginny, was my mom’s dearest friend. Growing up as cousins, my mom was quite a bit older but something with Mom and Ginny just clicks. It could be that they have the same birthday but as I have grown into an adult, I realize that it’s likely because when you’re broken, Ginny is the glue that holds your pieces together. As I went through old pictures the other day, I found dozens of pictures of Ginny holding us as infants, playing with us as kids, laughing with my mom and dad. I realized that Ginny was there for most of our lives, being the glue even when we weren’t broken. I am sure that Ginny has dried my tears and made me smile hundreds of times in twenty seven years. But this past year, I was broken and I was the one that needed the glue. In October, my grandmother passed away. My grandmother meant the world to Ginny. She drove to Maryland from Connecticut when she heard the news that it wouldn’t be much longer. As we gathered in the room where Grandma would fight her last battle in this world, Ginny held our hands and she warmed our hearts. In January, we held a memorial service for Grandma in Connecticut. I went up early to help with the finishing touches, folding programs, picking out flowers and putting together old pictures. I needed to feel like I was contributing and knowing this, Ginny listened. She listened to my problems with careers, with men, with life. She let me cry because I had a lot to get out. She let me talk aimlessly because she knew I needed to say it. Ginny helped glue me back together that week. As I’ve grown into a woman, I now know why my Mom and Ginny have always been such close friends. Ginny is a mother to everyone in her life. She would drop everything to help someone that she loves. There is no person more loyal, more brutally honest or more compassionate than Ginny. Ginny, thank you for loving me and for listening when I needed it and for helping me put my pieces back together.

And then there’s my mother, the woman who has loved me more than anyone since the day I was born. My mom has taught us all that there is nothing more important than family. Watching her struggle with pain from her own family, it isn’t hard to understand why she has showered her children with such incomparable love. If there are such things as kindred spirits, my mom is mine. Our cores are so incredibly similar that we can know what each other is feeling or thinking without saying a word. We are both deeply sensitive to emotions. When we laugh, we LAUGH. And when we cry, damn we CRY. I can remember times in my life when at a crossroads, mom will say something like “Heather, don’t do what I did.” I guess, in a way, that’s what parents are for. They help prevent us from making mistakes that we don’t know at the time are mistakes. Some of these mistakes I’ve had to learn on my own. But others, Mom paved the way for me. I’ll never forget, at 19 years old eating breakfast on a summer morning when I was home from college, Mom looked at me and said “Heather, if you were me you’d be getting married today”. She didn’t need to say anything else. I will take those words with me wherever I go. Those words have taught me not to define myself by anyone else. They have taught me that life is too short to settle and to keep the hope that life has something in store for me around every corner. My mom has taught me how to love, how to cry and laugh at the same time, how to shake off the bullshit and how to smile at the simplest gifts of life. One thing about kindred spirits is that I could actually feel a fraction of what my mom felt when she lost her mother in October. Watching her grieve has been one of the most important lessons I have ever learned. Losing someone that you love knocks you down. It forces you to realize that life is greater than any one ridiculous problem or burden that you refuse to let go of. I am sure I have been proud of my mother in the past but not the way I am today. At 60 years old, she has climbed the mountain of grief and burden she has piled on her shoulders and she is starting the descent. She is finding joy in the simple things and her smile is letting me know that everything is going to be okay. Mom, thank you for loving me and always believing in me and when I trip and fall, thank you for being the first one there to pick me up.

I love you all and Happy Mother’s Day!

H

“You can blame people who knock things over in the dark or you can begin to light candles” -Paul Hawken, Blessed Unrest

It’s amazing what a little sunshine can do for the soul.  I can honestly say that this is one of the best weeks I can remember having in a long time.  I feel energized, healthy and fulfilled.  Nothing particularly wonderful happened with the exception of winning the Phish lottery which I take as a full-blown confirmation that I was meant to see them in Atlantic City in June.  Other than that, it’s been a fairly typical week.

My dad refers to season extension as farming the “backside” of the season.  I don’t really care for this term but he’s never been one to do what everyone else does or do what ANYONE else does for that matter. But, his expression of seasonal farming has another level of meaning to me now as the seasons begin to change. Winter has never been my favorite season.  Feeling sad and melancholy in the winter isn’t a pity party, it’s purely chemical.  I have often contemplated the life of a bear and how much sense it would make to just hibernate, waking up to a fresh start. I have to say, however, that looking back on the hours I put into our farm this winter have been very pleasant now that crops are turning on and seedlings are starting to germinate.  What a feeling of satisfaction. What an incredible high to work with and adapt to Mother Nature.  

I guess I could make the claim that I have been “farming” since I was 14 years old when I seeded acres upon acres of squash using a jab seeder and listening to Wyclef Jean and Wu Tang Clan on my discman.  It was a summer job.  I sort of bought what my Dad was doing all those years but I cared a lot more about other things. Something has sparked in me now that I am old enough to understand. Our food system is a disaster and I want to help fix it.

I’m not one of those Doomsday preppers that we all chuckle about.  I don’t plan on ever hoarding toilet paper or bottled water to prepare for the end of the world.  If we go, we go.  I’m pretty sure that unless you’re riding on a pretty high horse, you’re not going to be able to stop the end of the world if it does occur in your lifetime. I do, however, have a slight fear and unrest about the future. Here’s why…

You don’t have to search hard to find information that supports the fact that within our lifetime, it is likely that we will no longer be able to depend on one of our deepest rooted necessities, oil. We are teetering on the edge of the point in time where our demand will outweigh our supply. It is also not difficult to conclude that those who are fighting each other to rule this country do not seem very concerned. I’m tired of hearing about Mitt Romney strapping his dog to the roof of his car.  He’s an asshole, we get it.  I’m tired of hearing about plans to abolish organizations like Planned Parenthood that are painted as candy stores for birth control pills and discredited for providing access to general health care for many uninsured women. I’m tired of putting hope in any one person to come in and save us from the mess we’ve made of our country. Newsflash folks, it’s not going to happen. 

Change can and will occur when we begin to act under the theory that the Earth is not a possession. It provides for us if we do the same. It will provide for our children if we teach them to do the same. I learned a staggering statistic a few weeks ago at a food justice conference in NYC. The average age of farmers in the United States is 57. The number of farmers under the age of 25 has decreased by 20% in the last ten years. So, yes, I’m worried about the future. Not because I think the world is going to end but because we have created a monster of a food system. Why don’t young people want to farm? Because young people can’t pay thousands of dollars worth of student loan debt from a farming income. When did food become a privilege? When will it become a basic human right? When will we embrace our farmers the way we embrace our brokers? When will we care for those that provide us with food the way we care for those that protect our money?

You may wonder how the best week I’ve had in a long time conjured up such dim thoughts concerning the state of things.  While the facts are staggering and require our attention, the future is not dim.  I sat in an auditorium in Manhattan a few weeks ago surrounded by thousands of young people who have recognized the existing problems and have heeded the call. What an incredible feeling to be a part of little bits of change that are happening all around us. That is what is going to make the difference.

So, as we see signs of Spring upon us, let us be mindful of the future. Let us not forget that the seeds we sow today will provide for us if we nurture them. The change we wish to see will happen if we do what we can to give it a chance.

Onward,

Heather

“Divided, body and soul, man and woman, producer and consumer, nature and technology, city and country are thrown into competition with one another.  And not one of these competitions is ever resolved in the triumph of one competitor, but only in the exhaustion of both.” -Wendell Berry, The Unsettling of America, Culture and Agriculture

We are exhausting ourselves, exhausting each other.

Today, our first group of Salisbury University students came to the farm for the lab portion of their Organic Gardening course.  Students that sign up for a course like this would like to leave with the skills and knowledge to tend to their own organic garden someday.  We hope that they leave this course with much more than that, equipped with the understanding that even by doing just that, they will be contributing to a very important cause: a return to what sustains us.

My father, who teaches the course, gave them their first quiz.  Standing in the center of the garden, he asked them to face South.  One of them immediately looked into the sky for the sun.  Others looked at each other for the answer.  I learned something myself at that moment.  Yes, I did know which direction was South from where I was standing.  I hope, however, to try to always have an appreciation for the piece of Earth on which my feet are planted and the relation of my surroundings to it.

We took a road-trip of the community around our farm, where my brother, my sister and I were raised.  It will always hold a special place in our hearts but not because of the stories that I’m about to tell but because it was home, it was where we learned to be ourselves and were given the means to become who we wanted to be.

In the early 1900s, the house that our parents raised us in was an auction block for a thriving community.  Boats would dock on the shore of the Nanticoke River in Bivalve, carrying goods from Baltimore and Washington, DC.  Carts would carry goods from the wharf to be auctioned at the block and would return with produce to be taken back to the cities.  Horner’s General Store owned by the Horner family of Bivalve stood just off the wharf.  As time progressed, the hustle and bustle of the wharf was silenced.  I don’t remember the store ever being open in my lifetime but my Dad told his students that he could remember my older brother sitting on the bench outside of Horner’s Store eating ice cream with the men in town who were old enough to have lived there when it thrived.  My dad says he credits my brother’s wisdom and curiosity to these types of experiences.  Horner’s Store was torn down a few years ago.  The plot of land that it stood on is still for sale.

A mile down the road is Turnstile Farm, a piece of land given to the Walters family by a land grant in the 1700s.  The town, now Bivalve, was originally named Waltersville.  The farm, which was roughly 1000 acres when given to the family, is now managed by a local man who only farms a small portion of it.  As the current owner of the land is aging herself, will this land cease to be passed down from generation to generation?  In the depths of industrialization, historical farms like Turnstile, have been disappearing for years.

Two companies employed much of Bivalve’s population in its earlier days.  A tomato/vegetable canning warehouse gave farmers in the area a sure sale for any cull vegetables that didn’t make the cut.  In turn, it employed the community with a variety of jobs.  Nanticoke Seafood, on the Nanticoke Harbor, employed three shifts of workers who processed and packaged seafood caught by oysterers and fishermen.  There was a three-year waiting list for a slip to dock a boat in the Nanticoke Harbor.  As my Dad told this piece of history, he said “And this is the perfect day to show you this place.”  As he said, today’s weather conditions were prime for oystering.  Looking out at only 10 workboats docked in the harbor, I realized not only were they the only boats left, they would remain docked in the harbor even on a perfect day for their use.  Both of these companies are also closed for business.

These stories are similar to others across the entire country.  Our idea of competition has changed.  We have adapted to the inevitable change that occurs within a society that is constantly striving to improve.  But as Wendell Berry presents, could it be that embracing the positive change while remembering the simplicity of that which sustains us may prevent us from losing both? 

After the road-trip, we debriefed.  The students were fascinated by the community and the stories it told.  They asked me what it was like to grow up here.  I told them that my neighbors were like aunts and uncles and that our front yard used to be the neighborhood wiffle ball field.  I told them that it isn’t something I appreciated until more recently in the my 27 years of living.

As my admiration for it has grown, it makes me wonder if our destructive ways of caring for our planet will force us to return to locally sustained communities.  It is very likely that we will no longer see “Buy Local” bumper stickers and T-shirts.  Instead of being a movement, it will be a necessity.  It will just make sense.

We can vote in elections and we can sign petitions.  We have the constitutional right to speak and express ourselves.  We have the right to pursue happiness.  But, as we continue down this path as Earth’s inhabitants, I believe that it will be imperative that we help our neighbors and lean on them when we falter.  We will have to learn to use our advancements to our advantage while nurturing the vital resources that Earth provides us with. 

“As people, we must learn again to think of human energy, our energy, not as something to be saved but as something to be used and to be enjoyed in use.   -Wendell Berry

I’d like to think that if we used such human energy, coupled with the positive energy that we have created, we may affect our own bit of change.

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And one fine morning— So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

CHERISH YOUR SOLITUDE

These words have drifted in and out of almost every thought I have had today.  I am alone but, I’m not lonely.  Thankful.

So, I lied.  I am going to blog about 2011.  Why?  Well, I woke up to 65 degrees and sunny on this last day of 2011.  My first thought…what a strange year.  It wasn’t just a strange year for me.  It was a strange year in history.  It’s one of those years whose effect will not truly be realized until our children are reading about it in history books.  My thoughts on 2011, here you go…

It does not please me to say that 2011’s opening was a discouraging one when Gabrielle Giffords was severely injured after being shot in a Safeway in Arizona.  The shooting left 6 dead and 13 wounded, including Giffords.  It was not a proud day for our generation as we see that deeply-rooted anger is still the driving force of many people’s actions.

On January 25, the revolution in Egypt began.  Interaction through social networking allowed young people to participate in the Friday of Anger in protest of the Mubarak regime.  Armed with their smartphones and a hope for a brighter future, Egyptians took to the streets and they revolted.  Mubarak resigned on February 11.

Likewise, conflict in Libya began in February and would eventually bring about the overthrow of Muammar al-Gadaffi in August.  If you want to know more, ask Hermann Cain.  He proved to be the expert…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WW_nDFKAmCo&ob=av3e

In 1969, the United States first landed on the moon.  On February 24 2011, the final Space Shuttle Discovery launch took place.  The launch returned on March 9 marking an end to an era.  The whole world watched as Prince William married Kate Middleton.  This event still leaves a big question mark in the back of my head?  I didn’t watch and the only thing I really have to say about it is “Really?”.

We could all sleep a little sounder at night when President Barack Obama released his birth certificate to the public on April 27 proving that he actually is a legitimate president.  Sorry Donald, better luck next time.  Onward…

On May 2, we got him.  I can’t say that I have ever celebrated someone’s death before but I will always remember where I was when I learned that Osama Bin Laden was killed.  With tears running down my cheeks, I smiled. 

Three days later, the GOP debates began.  With the exception of a few candidates, these debates have been slightly reminiscent of a three-ring circus.  At times, I felt like I was watching a beauty pageant as GOP hopefuls painfully answered questions such as “What is your favorite type of ice cream?”  I still don’t think the GOP has come up with a candidate that can beat Obama and that isn’t just because I don’t tend to vote for republicans.  I’m voting for Willie Nelson.

Things really started to get interesting as summer ushered in the fall.  On June 24, New York became the largest state to legalize same-sex marriage joining the ranks of Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa, New Hampshire, Vermont and Washington DC.  On that same note, the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell allowed gays and lesbians to serve openly in the military.  It still boggles my mind that this was ever a law but I guess I should be happy that it is no longer.

The weather threw us for a loop in late August as an earthquake centered in Mineral, Virginia was felt from Atlanta, GA to Ontario.  Driving in my car with my windows down and singing along with Joe Cocker, I thought I was experiencing brief vertigo and continued exercising my pipes.  When I arrived at my destination, my Facebook feed was filled with friends that had felt an earthquake.  Ah ha!, I thought.  Just four days later, the east coast fastened its seatbelts in preparation for Hurricane Irene.  Irene, a fickle lady, left thousands in New England without power, leaving many of states south of there, windblown.

September marked the beginning of an uprising.  Occupy Wall Street began in Zucotti Park on the 17th, creating offshoots in cities all over the United States.  Americans, feeling the strains of social and economic inequality took to the streets hoping to reverse the effects of high unemployment, greed and corruption on the part of corporations and the influence these corporations have over the government.  While the movement’s goals and methods have proved to be a bit unclear, something’s happening here and it is not to be ignored.  On October 15, global protests occurred in 951 cities in 82 countries.  Again, something’s happening here.

On October 31, the planet welcomed its 7 billionth inhabitant.  Can’t comprehend that number?  Neither can I.  I won’t take any bets on exactly what this means to the planet and the rest of its inhabitants but I can hear it groaning under our careless burden.  7 billion?  I just know that it’s too many.

On October 21, President Obama announced that all troops would be withdrawn from Iraq.  December 15 marked the official end to the war.  The war commenced during my Freshman year at GW.  This was, coincidentally, the year that my mind turned on to activism.  I think about the people that lost their lives in this war every day.  It’s hard to believe that we were there for 8 years.  That is slightly less than 1/3 of my lifetime.  Mind-blowing.  I’m still standing firmly behind my belief that there has to be a better way.

2011 said goodbye to Elizabeth Taylor, Geraldine Ferraro, Jack Kevorkian, former First Lady Betty Ford, the alluring voice of Amy Winehouse, the master-mind of Steve Jobs and the contraversial writing of Christopher Hitchens.  The public eye also said goodbye to Hermann Cain and wait, drum-roll please, Glenn Beck.  I could never say it better than Jon Stewart so, I won’t…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNOku6QP4UM

And this is where I step up onto my soapbox and clear my throat, hoping to be heard.  We are facing some very serious consequences with respect to our dangerous and irresponsible use of resources and money.  We are facing a Global Food Crisis.  In early 2011, the global price of food hit an all-time record high.  To wealthy countries, this poses an inconvenience that forces us to take a look at our blatant disregard for what feeds us.  For third world nations, a 20% increase means the difference between life and death.  These are simple facts that we MUST face. 

So, last but not least, the most historical event of 2011 for me was a very personal one.  Somewhere between the months of February and April, I decided to face these facts.  I have decided that my greatest gift to the world is not how quickly I can tape an ankle or how many football players I can diagnose with head injuries.  In some fashion, I will fight the Global Food Crisis.

I’ll say it again.  Something’s happening here.  We’ve only just begun and we are not finished yet. 

HAPPY 2012!