My family is descendant from the German Amish immigrants who fled to Pennsylvania where they, in a turn of events that Berry would find shameful, went from traditional farmers to candy makers. Somehow, my mother’s family ended up in Minnesota before settling in New Hampshire but even that didn’t last; my mother and I moved four times before settling back in New Hampshire only to up and go again, finally settling in Vermont, where we have lived for the last 14 years. I still can’t seem to settle. Even after attending college in my home state, it wasn’t until I traveled all the way to Kentucky that I become active in an agricultural/food community in more than just a passing way, which embarrasses me more than I expected.
Most of my work in Louisville brings me to Henry County, about an hour outside of Louisville. During my hour long commute, my co-worker Katie often tells me tales of her rural Kentucky upbringing, pointing out ways that the landscape has changed, what businesses have thrived and which have been bought out to make way for commercial sprawl. She prides herself on her decision to settle close to home in an effort to revitalize home through vegetable and meat processing plants that could bring food locals as well as the one restaurant in New Castle, Kentucky. The projected crown jewel on the town will be a single high end restaurant, offering a change of pace from “Starvin’ Marvin’s” the southern comfort diner that we often grab lunch and sweet tea from.
In high school, I took a two week course on local foods, and my Middlebury OINK trip focused on organic farming. Beyond that, I know Vermont through the eyes of a consumer or, at best, a back yard gardener. My family eats local meat and I push for more farmer’s market produce and fairy when I am home, but at Middlebury, I lose most of this convicaiton and settle for whatever is in the dining hall, not wanting to shell out the money at the co-op. In Vermont, ocal food is a luxury. Berry’s essay on Amish communities along with the discussion we had this week in our video-conference and during our fifth day led me to question the role of enjoyment in one’s life, both in regard to lifestyle preferences as well as to relationships with food and agriculture. As many of us in Louisville experience the reality of working a 9-5 job under the harsh Kentucky sun, myself included, I can’t help but think this experience will lead us to appreciate the work that farmers do but that many will not be interested in toiling away like this day in and day out. And as we look to notions of progress, how do we reconcile our desire to improve agriculture on a broad scale with the idea of personal enjoyment? As I find myself carving a niche in Kentucky, do I abandon it to revitalize my own drug-addled, economically unstable hometown? To do so would surely be seen as a failure to many in my community- didn’t I go to Middlebury so I could get away from a place like Rutland? Do I aim to return to Louisville, the only place I having food knowledge of beyond that of a consumer?
This all leads me to the Amish principle saying that members should “have educated their children to live at home and serve their communities.” I would not say that my family isn’t active in the community; on the contrary. The longer that we’ve lived in Vermont, the more we’ve moved towards local businesses, beginning a small one of our own. My parents often volunteer for school events and I substitute teach when possible in local school systems. But food was never the focus, and who is to blame for this? Did we lose sight of our Amish roots in favor of enjoyment, of the thrill of the next move, of the bigger house? Do I blame my parents for failing to teach me the importance of serving the local earth? And if I leave Vermont after I leave Louisville, how can I hold myself accountable in my next community? There is no obvious answer to this question, but I hope that the longer I spend here, the closer I can get to an answer.