Structural Change

I just finished watching series 4 of The Good Life, a 1970s sitcom from BBC that aired in the US as Good Neighbors. The library system only had this last season of the show, so I requested that to see whether I would like it. I enjoyed it very much and so will probably purchase the set that contains series 1-3 at some point and then donate this to the library when I have watched it. It is about a these neighbors, both of whom were corporate suburban couples until one of the couples decides to drop out of the rat race and become self-sufficient. Some of it brought me back to my own corporate suburban 1970s childhood. Some of it was pretty laughable--like when they worked for a sheep farmer in exchange for fleeces which they spun (with a drop spindle), dyed with nettles, wove the yarn into cloth, and then sewed into a suit--presumably by hand, since the woman was always seen sewing by hand. This seemed to happen in a remarkably short period of time! All in all though, it was quite entertaining. At one point, though, it struck me how difficult (impossible?) it can be to be truly self-sufficient in a society where that is somehow held up as the ideal, but is structurally set up to make this very, very difficult. At some level, of course, none of us are self-sufficient, and indeed even in the show, they had to barter with other people to get their needs met. This has always been the case, I would venture to say, throughout human evolutionary history. Cooperation was a part of our evolutionary process and no one truly goes it alone. So, although we can strive to meet as many of our needs as possible on our own, we can't ever meet all of them. Still, having the knowledge to grow food, cook with what you have, and make do in creative ways with things you have just makes a lot of sense to me. When she cut up one of her husband's pullovers and made herself a tabard vest and leg warmers, I chuckled to myself. In the last episode she was wearing a patchwork shirt that looked like it had been cut out of other old shirts in different shapes and sewn together, seams outward. Now this is something I want to try myself. In any case, there are parts of this kind of lifestyle that not only do I find attractive, but that I actually do in my own life. There are limits--I know that unless I am doing container gardening, for example, I really don't care for it. So I will plant a few tomato plants in pots, but I have also joined a CSA and will support a local farm family that way. Brunswick happens to be a place where I can do that. In Fairbanks, we lived without running water for a couple of years. This was pretty painless, although it took organization and planning, because Fairbanks was set up for that kind of thing. There were places we could go to buy water and pump it into our containers. That's the thing--the system has to be set up in such a way to allow and even encourage people to make these kinds of changes in their lives. Clearly the system we have now does not work and millions of people know this and try to make positive changes in their own lives. This needs to happen because we need these individuals to turn into groups which will turn into larger groups that will eventually be large enough to force cultural, societal, and structural change. But these pioneers do have it a little harder--they are trying to build alternative lifestyles within a structure that is often not supportive and may in fact hinder them. So we all do what we can. One of the things I was happy to see in the show was the expression of the joy that such a life can bring. The more I have tossed aside all the trappings of a consumer lifestyle the happier I have been myself. There is little joy in shopping--I can think of few things more mind-numbingly boring. But there is satisfaction in taking a bunch of string, manipulating it with my crochet hook, and ending up with a pair of socks or a shirt. Bucking the system at any level requires creativity. I think we need as much of that as we can get.

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A New Chapter

I am nearing the end of my first week of freedom from my job at a "sustainable goods" store. The owner is out of money and cannot pay for an almost full-time person anymore. I am fine with that, because I disliked the job a great deal and am glad to be done. It was quite an eye-opening experience. When I started I knew that I would be learning things, but as so often happens in life, the things I learned were not the things I thought I would learn. The part of the job that I enjoyed was the opportunity to have interesting conversations with some of the people who came into the store. Other than that, I mostly found what was doing to be a waste of my time and what I observed to be disturbing and somewhat depressing. There were generally two broad categories of people who would come into the store. Those who were there for a specific thing, like bulk earth/people-friendly cleaning supplies or wood finish for a certain project. They wanted to be greener for whatever reason. But they got what they needed and the things they bought were part of a larger commitment to simple living and lowering the footprint they were making on the earth. Then there were the people who bought things like plastic bag drying racks and stainless steel compost pails--the latter imported from China via Seattle, swathed in multiple layers of cardboard and plastic. Not quite a "sustainable good" but, as many people said, "Oooh, it's so pretty." Whether they bought one of these or not depended on the budget--they ran from $30-$50. What depressed me was the people who bought one to take back to their overly large home while thinking they were being radical because they compost. Don't get me wrong. Composting is great. It's a great thing to do. But it's one thing and not all that radical. And we are beyond the point, I think, when tinkering at the edges of this huge global problem of overcounsumption is going to solve things. I found myself feeling a bit yucky about being there after a while. I felt like I was simply helping people to keep on consuming too much stuff they don't really need. There were good things in the store, to be sure. I refilled used containers with soap, laundry detergent, and dish soap. I bought stainless steel travel mugs. Everyone has a different view of what is important to them, I know, but I became uncomfortable with the idea of selling wood finish that came to Maine from Germany via California, flooring from Scotland, and vermiculture set-ups that came from Australia while working for a guy that thinks everyone should give up their cars and not drive. Unless they are driving to his store from far away. Then it's OK. Just as it's quite fine to say that you are "saving the planet" while having stuff sent to your store from all far-flung corners of the globe burning fossil fuels every mile along the way. When the owner told me that his belief was that everyone could live in a 4000-square-foot house, as long as they did not burn any fossil fuels, I gave up trying to see where I would fit in there. The idea was so ridiculous to me that it suddenly became obvious in a way it had not been before that here was one of those people who want to say, "Sure, save the planet, but please do not disrupt my suburban, middle-class way of life. I will help by buying this pretty stainless steel compost pail." Good luck with all that. And the store? It will be closed by June at the latest.

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Settling Into a New Year

Here we are in 2011. There's a new calendar on the fridge and symbolically it seems like there are new possibilities that perhaps didn't exist in the old year. I was thinking a great deal about years and settling and possibilities. I was thinking the other night as I was crocheting my way toward midnight that this is the first year in the last few when we were not planning to move in the new year. On New Year's Eve 2008, we knew we were going to leave Klamath Falls in 2009. We did that, but not at all in the way we had expected. It didn't turn out badly. Indeed it is hard to imagine how leaving Klamath Falls could possibly have been worse than living there. The most important thing was to get out and save ourselves, so the fact that it wasn't what we had planned doesn't matter much. New Year's Eve 2009 saw us sitting in Niagara Falls knowing we would have to leave there in a couple of months. I did not want to go and I knew I had to. This time I was smart enough not to have expectations beyond the ideas that we were leaving and when we did we would be heading east. Plenty of surprises were waiting for us even without expectations. After wandering around part of Maine for 6 weeks, settling in one apartment for 2 1/2 months, camping for 5 weeks, and staying with kind friends for 3 weeks, we ended up where we are now--still in Brunswick and planning to stay. we signed a lease. But that doesn't mean I feel settled. Oddly enough, I don't, really.
I realized that in the last decade I have not settled well. When I left Alaska, I figured we would be relatively mobile for a time as we did what we needed to do to get ourselves ready for our move to Ireland. Still, I had expected to find a place to settle temporarily. Instead I found myself completely unsettled in Klamath Falls for 5 years and two weeks while I watched myself fall into what seemed like a bottomless pit of severe depression. All I wanted to do, starting two weeks after I got there, was to get the hell out. Five years after that, I did, but settling in Niagara Falls, though I wanted to, proved to be impossible because of the pollution that was causing health problems for both of us. So I began my wandering once again, looking for a place to settle until it's time to go. I ended up in Brunswick. It's nice. I like it. I knew as soon as we got here that this is where we need to be right now. But I'm not settled. I am content. I am at peace. I am not settled. Part of this is simply that I know I am not going to be here for years and years. I hope that next year at this time we will be planning to move again. I know well enough that this may or may not be the case, and planning is one thing and actually proceeding is quite another, but we have to have goals in our lives and that's ours, even though we hold it lightly. I also think that there is something about where we are that makes it hard to settle in. I know someone who ran for the office of State Representative and he lost by less than 150 votes. I have had several people tell me he did well for a newcomer. He's been here for 6 or 7 years. To me that's not a newcomer, but I know from past experience that it takes a lot longer than that to get past newcomer status in a small town. So it's OK. I will leave here when I am still a newcomer. This place will probably end up living in my memories and life stories as a pleasant place where I could come and regroup after a year and a half on the road and 5 years and two weeks of bare-knuckled survival. I have met some great people. I am glad to be here and I know that when I go I will be glad to go--not because I dislike it here but because I will be excited about where I am going. So I will remain unsettled and content to be so. Happy 2011!

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People Who Make Stuff

Bill and I have gone around and around over the past several years about the kinds of projects we could do in the area of life stories. We've come up with some really good ideas, some of which have come to fruition. We've worked with individuals and that has been fun and interesting. Today, though, I suddenly understood something that seemed so obvious in the moment I realized it that I felt like a complete and total idiot for not realizing it before. I am totally fascinated by the stories of people who make stuff. I always have been. When I was a kid I used to think my Nana was incredible because she made stuff. She grew food. She preserved it. She cooked it. When she needed slipcovers she got drapes at a rummage sale and made them. She made dolls, doll clothes, and scrap quilts out of old clothes and other bits of fabric that were no longer useful in their previous form. She took nothing--or more precisely, the little bits that used to be something--and made these things into something new and wonderful. Seeds grew into tomatoes, which became sauce after the new seeds had been saved to make more tomatoes. Old bits of fabric became a scrappy quilt that I slept under every single night as a teenager. Nana could look at something--something discarded in many cases--and see its potential. She knew how to make it something else.
So it is with so many people. Sculptors take some chunk of raw material and see something wonderful inside it. Mosaic artists can take little bits of glass and create a materpiece. Painters see a blank canvas and know how to fill it with whole new worlds. This is, to me, amazing. Even more amazing to me are the people like my grandmother, who can take the scraps and discards of life and turn them into warmth and love that you can hold in your hands or wrap yourself up in. This is why I do the yarn work that I do. I am my Nana's granddaughter, after all. I used to think that what I was interested in was women's domestic labor or gendered craft or something like that. And to some degree that's true. I am interested in that. But it's really much simpler than that. I am interested in people who make stuff. I am interested in the kind of creative thinking that allows someone to turn one thing into something else. I think it has to do with the idea of possibility. I am frequently saying to someone, "Just because it has never been done before doesn't mean it can't be done in the future." People who make stuff are all about creating something that has never existed before. They look at old drapes, or a blank canvas, or an odd ball of yarn and they see what it might be. This epiphany came to me this afternoon when I was opening a Christmas gift that my husband ordered for me--it arrived on Friday, but he worked all day and couldn't get to the post office to pick it up. It was a book called Traditional Crafts of Ireland and has a photo of hands working on a fiddle-in-progress on the cover. I was pretty excited. And then it hit me. I have been flailing around for a long time trying to figure out where to focus my time and energy beyond my own yarn work. Here it is--collecting the stories of people who make stuff. Duh! We have already done a few projects in this area with quilters and artists. As we think about what kinds of things to pursue in the year ahead, I am relieved to find that my task of narrowing things down just got a whole lot easier. People who make stuff. Yup. That's the ticket!

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Long, Strange Trip

Here we are in Maine. We had to leave Niagara Falls because it was so polluted it was making us sick. It was not a happy thing to do. I enjoyed being a part of a community at the UU church there and I knew I would miss the people there. On the other hand, I was looking forward to breathing. And, to be honest, there was just something about NY that I found depressing somehow, though I can't put my finger on it exactly. I never thought that I would voluntarily return to new England after spending a very unhappy decade in NH starting in my mid-teens, but here I am. Since I left in 1987, I learned that in spite of my parents' insistence that there was something inherently unpleasant about New England, it wasn't that at all. It was small town, rural US in a state of change. Change is always hard. Klamath Falls is far from New England and yet my experiences there reminded me a great deal of the NH I lived in 30 years previously. So I return to New England, albeit a different part of the region. Many Mainiacs, I have no doubt, would be quite offended by being lumped in with everyone else. But there are many things that are quite similar. Other people have come from outside. many people have commented on the difficulty of getting to know people and feeling connected. I find that to be true. I felt an almost instant connection in Niagara Falls and i have yet to feel any sort of connection here, except to know that Brunswick is where I need to be right now. And that's OK. I am quite used to being on the fringes of things. Niagara Falls was a nice interlude, but I guess I always knew it wouldn't last. It's nice here. I feel grounded and at peace. I like the landscape. I've met some nice people. I'm curious to see where it all goes. even so, I am preparing for the next move, which will take me to Europe. I hope this will happen in two years or less. guess I'll find out!

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What Time Is It?

Today we were waiting for the FedEx truck. I had to send my computer battery back to the company because it wouldn't fully charge. It would charge partway and it would run on the battery, but I could not get a full charge. After following all of the instructions received from the tech support people and discovering that none of them solved the problem, we were instructed to send the defective battery to them so they could send a replacement. Delivery of said replacement was to be today. Since we live upstairs and the only way in and out is a side stairway, we were watching for the truck so we could run down and get the package. Most delivery people just go to the front door, which leads to someone else's apartment—someone who happens to work at FedEx but is on vacation right now. We didn't know whether a signature would be required and if so, whether our downstairs neighbor would be there to sign for the package if it was and if they tried to leave it there.
We heard someone knocking on the door downstairs and looked out the window just in time to see someone get into a nice new FedEx van that was so quiet that we didn't hear it drive up the way we usually hear the big old trucks. We didn't hear the door get answered, so we thought maybe they'd just left the package on the porch. I went down the back stairs, out the side door, and around to the front. I walked by but saw no package. This was about 10 or 10:30 this morning. Bill checked the tracking number on the website and it said it was still on the truck.
Later on he was going out to move his truck to the other side of the street and he checked again. This was at about 2:10. It said it had been delivered at 1:59 and “left in front of door.” Well, not really. There was no FedEx truck here at that time. Bill went and checked again before he moved the truck. Nothing. As he was getting out of the truck, the neighbor pulled up so he asked if there'd been a package delivered. There was not—the earlier FedEx person had come to deliver something to do with this person's employment. So we began the hunt for the number to call, since we figured they had left the package at the wrong house. I called one number and was sent elsewhere. Then I got one of those automated menus that ask you to speak and give you limited categories. I chose “more options” until I got to “claims,” figuring that was as close as I'd come.
The woman I ended speaking to was friendly and pleasant. She asked for the tracking number, which I gave her. She said, “It says here it was delivered at 1:59.” I told her, “I understand that that's what the computer says. But it isn't here and there was no truck here at 1:59. We've been watching for it.” I think she repeated that the computer said it had been delivered at 1:59. I repeated that I understood that, but that I didn't have it and the downstairs neighbor didn't have it. I was told that they could trace it. I was thinking that it was unlikely that this was going to be at all useful, since presumably once it was scanned as delivered they would no longer be able to track it at all, and the computer already said it had been delivered at 1:59. However, realizing that this was a line of discussion that was likely to lead nowhere, I asked whether they would let me know the results of this exercise. “You can call back in a day or two,” she said. If they found nothing, which I suspected was pretty much a foregone conclusion, I should tell the company that sent it to file a claim. It was now 2:35.
At about 2:40, we heard our neighbor calling from downstairs that our package, which was already delivered at 1:59 and left on the doorstep according to the computer had just been delivered by hand to our neighbor. This is good to know. Either I am in a time warp or FedEx drivers just randomly scan things as delivered that have not been delivered at all. There was nothing about that computer entry that was correct. For a time, it had not been delivered, though the computer said it was. When it was delivered, it was not at 1:59, but at about 2:38. It was not left at the door, it was handed to a live person. So, now we know that “the computer says...” really means pretty much nothing. But at least I got my battery.

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Don't Burst the Bubble!

The other day we facilitated the second of six story circles with members and attendees of the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Niagara. As these things usually are, it was amazing. I was reminded again of why I have such faith in human beings to change the world in miraculous ways. I sometimes despair when I read about the many, many people who simply believe what they are told through various media outlets. They seem to be quite willing to enter the bubble of unreality that these people construct. On one hand, I understand this—these people offer simple solutions. Or at least they seem simple. Usually they are totally illogical and make no sense whatsoever. But if one is in a drowsy state of unawareness, I suppose it can all seem pretty attractive. It seems that lots of people are scared and so they are willing to leave their brains at the door whenever someone tells them that it's all Obama's fault, or that Democrat equals socialist or whatever. People want things that are simply impossible to have happen all at the same time. Some idiot at some town hall show or tea party rally or something had a sign that said, “Keep your government hands off my Medicare.” Huh? Without government hands on Medicare, there's no Medicare. It is after all, government run health care—gasp! Maybe that person who receives this government run health care is actually a closet socialist who wants to take over the world—the total ignorance just boggles the mind! Then there are the cries to lower the deficit, magically create jobs, cut taxes, and fight terrorism around the globe. Never mind that you simply can't do all of these things effectively all at once. It makes me laugh to hear people blatantly lie and make stuff up watch the masses agree. I read an article the other day arguing that maybe populism isn't such a great idea. I take the point. If people want their elected leaders to listen to them, then they have to be truly knowledgeable about the issues they care about. Ignorance is not enough. Taking pride in your ignorance is not enough. Just believing something is true because some other ignorant person said it and told you it was the truth is not enough. Usually I am pretty accepting of the idea that I am witnessing the continuing downfall of this nation as a superpower. I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing. Clearly, the population is simply not up to the task. You can't create a fantasy world, pretend it's real, revel in your own ignorance and expect to thrive. What goes around comes around. And the fact is, you can't reason with someone who is attached to their own ignorance and the fantasy world they inhabit. Because you don't live in their world and they don't live in yours. And when you ask them questions or ask them to clarify their position, they can't. They keep repeating the party line to which they have subscribed. I find it sad. We have these incredible human brains that many people deliberately choose not to use—wasted resources, indeed. I read the other day that neocons are coming back. One in particular keeps getting invited onto talk shows simply because he edits a journal. Their ideas have been completely discredited and they keep repeating them. One friend of this guy said that he didn't care if he was right or wrong, as long as he is unique. I don't have a problem with the guy himself. This is a strategy that's working for him--and that is all he seems to care about--himself. The problem comes when people give him credibility. In a world of aware people, he would be a fringy guy who most people don't take seriously. His ideas have never worked, remember. In fact, they have created a mess for the country. And yet, people still believe him and ask him to come and talk about these discredited ideas. A Republican pollster who gets much business from the financial industry advises people to just lie or to oppose things before they know what they're even about. This may good in terms of individual gain--I am sure he making lots of money. The moral question about what he is doing is one he will have to answer--and has, I suppose--for himself. But again, these strategies should not work. The only reason they do is because there are enough people who are willing to hand over their brains to someone like this. So as things continue to get worse, people should be looking at themselves and their failure to take responsibility for knowing what is going on rather than embracing ignorance. It's easier, though, to blame someone else and then be surprised later when things don't work out as your fantasy storyline says they should.
I think the sooner the US loses its world dominance—a moment that seems to get closer each day—the better it will be for the planet. I am not sure I want China at the helm, either, but since we helped them get where they are—our mindless consumption of cheap crap certainly has helped their economy grow—we will have to live with those consequences, too. And the more US debt they hold, the more control they have over us.
But as I listened to the stories in the circle on Saturday, I was reminded that there are people who are energized by learning different points of view, who are not stuck in one mode of thinking, who have the capacity and the desire to engage in independent thinking, who have chosen to live in the real world, messy as it is, and who actually seek out ideas. These are the people we don't hear about on the news. These are the people who give me hope. These are the people who can change the world—one story at a time.

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