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Hi, everyone.

John here, just getting the prompt for June 30th out a couple of days early. My wife Rita and I are about to move out of our house of 36 years, and this morning feels like the last opportunity for clarity in the foreseeable future!

What a pleasure it was just now to read back over your previous weeks’ postings and responses. Your authentic, energetic voices flowed for me right into those moving and eloquent passages about food from Wendell Berry’s fiction. In his author’s note to this section he writes, “You can eat food by yourself. A meal, according to my understanding anyhow, is a communal event, bringing together family members, even strangers. At its most ordinary, it involves hospitality, giving, receiving, and gratitude. It pleases me that in these fictional passages food is placed in its circumstances of history, work, and companionship.”

As always, you should feel free to remake a prompt in a way more useful to you, or to write about something altogether different if you prefer. Having said that, here’s my suggestion for the week:  please write about a particular time when you have experienced a meal as a communal, and deeply memorable, event. What made it so for you? Perhaps it was the act of cooking together; or the way in which the food on the table summed up the landscape, community, and season; or even the contrast between this one vivid meal and other less meaningful occasions. (I’m thinking in this last regard about those stacks of hamburgers that so inadequately replaced traditional country fare in Wendell Berry’s story “Misery,” on p. 212.) Another possible angle might relate specifically to this chapter of your lives as college students. On visits to your family have you been celebrated with special meals offering more than physical nourishment alone?  Conversely, have you shared meals with people you’ve just gotten to know this summer or while traveling that have deepened your sense of relationship with them.

Whatever angle you take, bring in some of the details of dishes, tastes, setting, and social context that evoke what the meal you describe has meant to you.

I look forward to seeing you all again in the teleconference on August 1st.

I took the course “Sociology of American Religion” this past semester, during which we read about and discussed Amish culture. The author of our book (Bill Kraybill) theorized that the Amish are “modern traditionalists,” both resisting and accommodating modernization. They resist what detracts from their values (farm and community being the centerpieces of society) and accommodate technologies and change that work for them. With this in mind, I have to take the principles of Amish life that Berry describes with a grain of salt. The use of technologies in farm life, diversification and stratification in the working world, and Amish tourism are all changing the face of Amish culture–some of the admirable facets described by Berry may not exist as they once did.

” They esteem farming as both a practical art and spiritual discipline.”

I love this statement because I think it is so different from what the majority of our population believes. Many people (including myself) take for granted the work that farmers do and don’t respect this profession as much as it deserves. When I read this, I thought of something that Corie Pierce said at Bread and Butter Farm during our Farm Tour on Sunday. She mentioned that when she was young and working on a farm, it was the opposite of cool. She avoided telling people where she worked and kept her passion for farming a secret. Over the past decade, she’s watched this completely transform. Students working on her farm are proud of what they’re doing now–they love the work and are happy to tell friends about their job. I see this myself too. When I was younger, none of my friends ever said that they wanted to be farmers. Today, I have several close friends both from home and from Middlebury working on farms during summers and even post-graduation. It’s a big change that I never really thought of before, but all of a sudden I’m realizing that farming is becoming more esteemed and desirable as a profession, discipline, and art.

“They esteem farming as both a practical art and spiritual discipline.”

Gardening is therapeutic as they all say. And it is. Tending to a bed of flowers or vegetables and watching they grow is satisfying because you see the results of either your own work or collaborative work. I feel privileged to work all Summer long at the Middlebury College Organic Farm; it is hard work but mon dieu is it stress free!

Farming/gardening is an art in the sense that it requires a set of method and principles in order to achieve a successful performance. How would you define a ‘successful performance’? I would imagine that, in the spirit of Amish principles and those advocated by Wendell Berry, it would be enough to satisfy needs in a way that is environmentally and energy fair and efficient. “Interdependence of all parts”  — something holistic like that.

My personal experience of spiritually is putting my faith into the carbon cycle theory. Using a holistic approach is being spiritual in a way, because you are considering all things and the way they connect.

Of course, I can relate to the therapeutic, ‘spiritual’ aspects of gardening/farming because I am working in a small scale, experimental elite college farm in a privileged, resort-like setting. I would not know how these principles are appliable in a employees in a traditional farm today, or to a farmer who has to work in another country because of imbecile transnational trade agreements.

Having “gone away” for school (even if it’s only 5 hours away in my case) makes the preservation of family and community difficult. As a college student, it is acceptable (generally speaking) to be disconnected from the family. We are learning to spread our wings and forge our own lives, which is great and maybe even why we go to college (?). However, college life can also feel very self centered: these four years are about “my education” and “my future” and “my interests”. In some ways, it feels as though there is a lack of true community in a college setting because, after all, how can community be maintained if we college students focus first and foremost on ourselves? Being students at Middlebury does not ask us to hold responsibility for much else other than ourselves (we even have people clean and cook for us). It almost feels as though we’ve regressed from the family and community responsibilities that many have grown up with, and I’m curious to know how family and community will be preserved if people are here first to further themselves.

At the same time, I think students at Midd are really incredible in a lot of ways: I’m constantly impressed by people’s abilities to dedicate themselves to their studies. I wonder in many cases what the greater goal is and why people choose to go to college, probably because I don’t know the answer for myself yet. I left home to “get an education” so that I can better serve the world, a community, my family? But what about how I can be helping my family right now? Sometimes it’s hard for me to justify this whole college thing in the short term, and I’d appreciate some tips about how to preserve community and family while still attending Middlebury College.

Maintaining skills in the kitchen and garden is significant in so many ways. It’s especially important in creating a strong connection with our food. As we were discussing during our last fifth day, growing food is caring for a living thing. We often forget that plants (and fungi) are living; and while it is obvious that the animals we raise for food are living, they are commodified and often treated like feelingless objects as well. I try to remind myself of this, and of all the work that goes into the growth and preparation of food, but it’s easy to forget and eat mindlessly. It makes me appreciate my food so much more when I keep this in mind. It also makes me feel really bad if things go to waste. For example, if meat gets thrown out it’s especially terrible, knowing an animal was killed to be eaten and we didn’t even eat it all.

My family has a garden at home, which has been a great experience for me. When we eat something out of the garden it’s so exciting because we watched the food grow and know exactly where it came from. Plus it’s so fresh. We also frequently share produce with neighbors, which helps us become closer as friends.

Upholding the skills of gardening and cooking can also preserve culture and biological diversity. Large, conventional agriculture has been focused on monoculture lately, while gardening is all about variety. This diversity helps keep and promote heirloom varieties of plants, which is also important in livestock. Maintaining diversity in food is essential because the fewer species and varieties of organisms we rely on, the more susceptible we are to severe problems if these organisms are somehow wiped out (ex: by disease, environmental conditions, etc.) And, as Wendell Berry explains in Bringing It to the Table, different organisms have developed over time to be excellently suited to the areas in which they live. Thus, having a variety of plants and animals living in the areas to which they have adapted is more efficient and less risky than raising a single organism all over under a variety of different conditions. Also, these varieties present an exciting collection of flavors and aesthetics, making gardening and eating more enjoyable. Unfortunately though, our food is less diverse than ever, and we are continuing to lose heirloom foods. Promotion of heirloom varieties and seed bank projects can help, but I think the most important thing is to change our values as a society. We should favor quality and diversity when it comes to production instead of aiming for the goal of “how much could we produce all at once?,” and I really feel gardens and small farms are the way to do this. Plus, gardening and cooking skills can help us gain independence, since we won’t have to rely as heavily on conventional agriculture and pre-processed foods from big businesses.

They have limited their farms to a scale that is compatible both with the practice of neighborhood and with the optimum use of low-power technology.

This principle reminds me of our tour at Big Picture Farm in Brattleboro. At one point, the farm owners mentioned that they made a conscious choice to not expand their farm by buying more equipment and goats for their caramel business. I found this decision especially striking. A capitalist economy always emphasizes growing and expanding one’s business. Yet the farm owners chose not to grow and expand. In making this decision, they took into account their own physical and mental well being, rather than generating the most amount of profit, as a capitalist economy demands. Local small-scale agriculture and capitalism seem to necessarily be in a state of tension. Capitalist principles are incompatible with small-scale farming. For this reason, large-scale farms with little crop diversity have surpassed small-scale farms, according to our definition of success.

I am currently interning at Louisville Grows, a grass roots non-profit dedicated to urban agriculture, urban forestry, and environmental education. The second Amish principle resonated the most with me. Over these past few weeks, I have had the opportunity to meet many community members who garden or come to help out at the two community gardens that Louisville Grows has. Community gardens bring neighbors together, and it is great seeing everyone interacting with each other. The People’s Garden has two greenhouses, an area for community members, an area to grow fruit, and an area that grows local produce which is sold to different markets and restaurants around Louisville and at Louisville Grows’ monthly farmer’s market. The Shippingport Memorial Garden also has space for community members and children. We are working on a natural play area for neighborhood youth. In all senses, Louisville Grows is strengthening the practices of neighborhood. Whenever I talk to the community members who come to garden, they tell me how wonderful it is that the gardens are there. One woman told me that she never really knew her neighbors or stepped outside until she decided to garden at the Shippingport Memorial Garden. I consider myself very lucky to be able to see the beauty of gardening and its ability to bring neighbors together.

Back home, there are many community gardens where I always hear people chatting, and I would always walk by without paying attention to what the garden represented for my community. I never knew how land could bring people together until my experience this summer. Prior to this summer in Louisville, I didn’t think much about the community gardens, I just thought it was a great way to use land. However, I see that there are many more benefits to local and urban agriculture.

As college students, I think that we often forget that although we live up in our community on the hill, we still belong to the larger Middlebury township when we are there and also to Addison County. We tend to only engage outside of our campus when we seek something that the College does not provide. Although some people believe that “good fences make good neighbors,” that perhaps neighbors should not be involved in one another’s business, I grew up in a neighborhood that operated as a large family unit and I found it to be far more pleasant and conducive to a happy community. Remaining on campus is far easier and more convenient than interacting with a community beyond its boundaries, and although we are guests rather than residents, we should make a bigger effort to be a part of the community rather than “those college kids.”

I certainly count myself guilty in abusing Vermont’s natural and cultural resources. I have not been a good guest. However, it seems that during this program we have all made a greater effort to practice what we preach as well as what our teachers preach. Our participation in the FoodWorks program is evidence that each of us believes in what we discuss and wish to be a part of the progress. We must remember, though that when the summer ends, the work must continue. We cannot be content with the thought that progress will probably puff along without us, or the work done this summer is lost. To continue the work is hard and inconvenient.

On the morning of our fifth day we discussed convenience and how convenience has made us lazy and spoiled as a culture, and consequently allergic to anything that should seem to put us out – cooking with local veggies, paying a little more for local things (food, culture, music, art), paying for a movie ticket, having tough conversations, farming for small scale, etc. “Convenience” reappeared several times throughout the day’s discussions. Nothing that the Amish do is convenient. The Amish are a people understand the allure of convenience, for their values and rules are strict. If a member of the community does not respect the values and practices, they may no longer be a part of the community. The focus is on the sustainability and regeneration of a healthy and rather focused community. Amish people work to provide for themselves and their community. Indeed, they provide for non-Amish people as well, but we are not their first priority.

We should not be the Amish’s first priority. The first rule that a first responder follows when he enters a scene is to make sure that he is safe. If he is not safe, how can he help someone who is in danger? So, how can a small community safely help a larger community when it is at risk? How can we go to other communities and provide aid when problems exist in our own neighborhoods? More relevant – is it safe for a community in rural Missouri to produce enormous amounts of soybeans to provide the nation when there does not exist any edible food besides those soybeans for 30 miles?

All that said…should I have stayed closer to home for college? Am I able to fully engage in my hometown community and the Middlebury community?

5)  They have limited their farms to a scale that is compatible both with the practice of neighborhood and with the optimum use of low-power technology.

Farming in the modern day has been simultaneously romanticized and distanced from urban lifestyles.  Phrases like ‘returning to the land’ imply that those who farm are not the same as those who live in cities – that urbanites and country folk are two unmixable cultures, like oil and water.

But, coming to Louisville, and seeing houses and yards like those of Joe Franzen and Claude Stephens, has changed my perception and definition of ‘farming’. Joe and Claude are both visionary individuals, motivated to live within the limits of a sustainable and rewarding lifestyle. They both live in urban areas of Louisville, yet their yards are small urban patches of greenery amidst rows of houses and a high population density. From the fronts of their houses, the last thing you expect is a substantial garden in the back yard.

Walking into these yards, I was struck by an intense admiration for both these people. Even with their busy lives, they somehow managed to grow gardens in these yards – yards teeming with life and nourishment, indicative of care and foresight, revealing of the intentional and motivated personalities of their inhabitants.

They were yards overflowing with carefully cultivated flora: fragrant herb gardens, colorful patches of swiss and rainbow chard, broad leafy lettuces, bright juicy berries, tomatoes bursting with flavor, and many more vegetables and fruits that nourish both our minds and souls.

These two people are just stand-out examples of a growing movement of urban farmers – their backyards, though not a 40-acre property with tractors and hay bales and traditional implications of a farm, are their own personal farms, filled with crops that they themselves cultivate and can easily eat for dinner.

When I return home to suburban New York, I’m returning to a back and front yard more than twice as big as the yards here. We have a swingset in the back, unknowingly resting on fertile soil – a perfect place for a thriving garden. My dad wants to cover this precious soil with asphalt and add a basketball hoop.

Now, I have a renewed motivation not to let him do that. With the houses of Joe and Claude in mind, I plan to begin to create my own urban farm, a farm that is limited in scale enough to fit in a suburban neighborhood, but still be vibrant and dynamic enough to provide fresh greens for my family, and a spiritual connection to the soil.

The past fifth day, I had an opportunity to listen to Rob Kingsolver’s lecture about the Economy and Food system in the United States. He showed the statistic data about the number of farms in United States that exponentially decrease and farm size in past 60 years that exponentially increase. He suggested that the average farm size has increased because farmers start to use more technology in farming and having a bigger farm which allow the farmers to meet the idea of economy of scale (the more products one produce, the less money he will spend on each unit).

The technology obviously helps the farmers to work more conveniently. However, this also decreases the number of employees that the farm needs.

“They limited their use of technology so as not to displace or alienate available human labor or available free sources of power (the sun, wind, water, and so on).”

This principle makes me think of my family’s life. For my mom, technology is almost like my mom’s enemy. She doesn’t like to use the computer, cellphone or even air conditioner. I rarely see her look for the stuff from the Internet. When she needs to look up for the recipes for cooking, she will look up in the books. When she needs to use coconut milk or tofu in any of her dish, she will make them by herself. In my opinion, I think she is very patient to do all this work, because she loves to do it and she cares the food that will go into her and her family’s member’s body.

I think I am very lucky to have her as my mom. I have learned to do stuff from scratch. Because my mom doesn’t like to use the electrical stove and she has a belief that using clay firepot makes the food taste better, I got a chance to learn how to use clay firepot.

This relate to the principle of Amish about preserving domestic arts of kitchen. Since my mom learned this cooking skill from her grandmother and her mom, my siblings and I are also learning about this skill and will preserve it to the next generation.

I think what can I do now is starting from myself by paying more attention in my valuable culture because I believe that anything that I would like to change cannot be changed if I can’t change myself first. I would like to learn more and pass on these valuable tradition and culture to the next generations. Moreover, more power can increase more impact; so I would like to encourage people in my generation to get involve more to make the impact to the society.