Tale of Three Villages

We are twenty-one days from the official onset of winter, but here in northern B.C. the winter season has already begun. Snow covers the ground and daylight is but a brief respite in the long hours of a winter night. For some this is the season of warm fires, good food, and joyful celebrations. To others in our nearby community it is a time of struggle and despair.

We live in an area rich in aboriginal history and culture, one of the few places where authentic totem poles still exist in situ. In August we participated in the first clan pole raising that had taken place in the village of Kitselas for 140-years. It was a day of celebration, and community pride (see album photos). Kitselas is a First Nations’ village with a clear vision for its future, and it was a joy to see the people, young and old, working together to create a center for native art and tourism. It was this event that inspired us to take our cross-country journey across Canada and the United States, looking for more signs of hope.

Now we are home, and this week I read newspaper reports about two radically different situations among the aboriginal villages near us. First from the Gitxsan villages of Hazelton and Kitwanga, came the CBC News headline, B.C. community pleads for help to halt suicide 'epidemic.' Early in November, seven people in the Hazeltons tried to kill themselves in just one week, and one Gitxsan girl died. Alf Brady, a mental health counselor with the Gitxsan Health Society, said the number of suicide attempts since June is astounding. “I’ve been informed of 59 attempts in a population of 6,000 people, which is incredible. The majority [of suicide attempts], of course, are young people and the majority are involved with drugs and alcohol." Chief Gary Williams of Kitwanga said the major underlying problem is unemployment – with about 85 per cent of his community out of work. “There is a shortage of money here, of sustainable jobs… There doesn’t seem to be any future.” That sense of hopelessness is very apparent as we drive through the village. It is a self-perpetuating cycle… Where there is no future, there is no hope. Where there is no hope, there is no future.

Then I read some good news in the Vancouver Sun about the Nisga’a village of Greenville, just north of us in the Nass Valley. “A British Columbia knitting company that became an overnight Olympic success story and now supplies knitwear for the Vancouver 2010 Winter Games has taken on a first nations partner. On Friday, Kootenay Knitting of Cranbrook announced that Nisga'a Knit & Apparel Corp. had bought 29 per cent of the company, and will likely buy the company out by early next year.” This means jobs in the Nass Valley. Willard Martin, Chief Counsel of the Nisga'a Village of Greenville, said that, "this economic venture will provide a welcome opportunity to engage the Government of British Columbia under its New Relationship Facility to support First Nations business and employment development. This is also a great opportunity for our people to become actively involved in the designing and manufacturing of high quality sweaters, hats and other apparel." Cathy Rella, founder of Kootenay Knitting said, “Currently, there is increasing consumer demand for 100% authentic Canadian made products. Our partnership with Nisga’a Knit & Apparel Corp. will strengthen our brand by including beautiful and distinctive Nisga’a designs.” It will be introduced under Kootenay’s “True North” collection.

Different communities – different outcomes. I wrote earlier this week about ‘candles in the night. ‘ The aboriginal villages of Kitselas and Greenville are two candles that shine brightly in the winter darkness of northern British Columbia. May their light be an inspiration for other communities that are still searching for hope.
... P. L. Morningstar

Kitselas Pole Raising Ceremony

The Hero's Blade

I have received several emails asking about what can be done in response to my posting of "A Fire Bell in the Night." My short answer is that we need a hero's blade.

The path to that answer comes by way of Beth Quinn's excellent article "Stunned by Lack of Outrage, Not Outrageous Acts" which appeared in the 26 November 2007 edition of The Times Herald-Record (New York) and was reprinted on Common Dreams. Click here to read it. It was followed by over 148 comments in two days by readers of Quinn's article. I quote in full the one from White Rose that struck me as particularly apt:

White Rose November 26th, 2007 12:15 pm

I am not stunned.

"We're number one, We're number one, nyah nyah, nyah nyah." Yeah right, "we were number one".

Most of my fellow Canadians seem to be walking the same path as so many stunned Americans.

Is it for the same reason that so many Germans were stunned in the 1930's and 1940's?

It the same stunned appearance that your average Brit displays.

Does it have anything to do with base triumphalism, which is peaking even as the societies of these countries sink into bleak totalitarianism?

As my parents and their generation defeated the Nazi menace in Germany the Bush family and it's minions spirited that same malevolent meme and transplanted it to USA soil where it has thrived and grown strong roots. It's ugly head now rises once again, a target for the blade of a hero."

Following this was Helix's comment:

Helix November 27th, 2007 11:26 am

"Organize. Organize. Organize.

Take the lead yourself, or find a like-minded leader and give him/her your support.

Organize. The fundamental tenet of a democratic system is that the majority rules. A single person is never a majority.

Organize."

Then we have the call, again and again for impeachment. Here is the comment by puck twain:

puck twain November 27th, 2007 10:06 am

"Impeach…
impeachment…
impeach.

John Conyers just subjected himself to another round of thunderous applause and shout outs for impeachment as he introduced and listened to Cindy Sheehan accept this years Cranbrook Peace Foundation Peace Award.

The word: impeach - grows in resonance everyday.

Be the one in your neighborhood to stand strong in the face of all this fear and help carry the Call To Impeach over the tipping point.

Don't give up on the Union's Founders, or Frederick Douglas and Harriet Tubman, stand strong for the children of tomorrow, and most of all stand strong with the beating of a free and clear heart on this and all days. For then it will be a good day to die…and even a greater day to live as a true American.

impeach…
impeachment…
impeach."

So what can you do? Add your voice to the call to impeach. Put your comment to Quinn's article on Common Dreams. Join an organization. Get active. Write to your representative. Then read the article on Monday's Common Dreams by Chris Hedges called "America in the Time of Empire" and the 54 plus comments that follow. There is a lot that we can do.

Take up the hero's blade.

... Bob

Candles in the Night

As we were driving the last leg of our “Looking for Hope” road trip, Bob turned to me and said, “You haven’t found much to hope for on this journey, have you?” What could I say? I desperately wanted to find hope for the future. And there have been moments when I said to myself, “This is a reason for hope.” There have been unique places and individuals that inspired me, and I wrote about them. But if I am to be honest with myself, I have seen more to be discouraged about than encouraged. I do not belittle the efforts that I have seen to change the direction our country and the world is headed. These are the candles in the night. They shine oh so brightly. But do we have time for those candles to ignite the wildfire needed for change?

Too often I see passive acceptance of what I consider unacceptable. A failure to connect the dots, to see the forest for the trees. Well-meaning people who do not think. It is not only the leaders who have failed us – we, the people have failed – and we have been given the government and conditions that we deserve. As long as we continue to believe that our security is worth any price (loss of constitutional rights, moral high ground, world respect, and the lives of millions), that future technology will solve our energy needs and climate change, that being anti-war is aiding our enemies and that protest and dissent is unpatriotic. As long as we believe that we must continue our excessive consumption in order to keep America’s economy strong, that it is our place in the world to spread freedom and democracy (actually capitalism) and Christianity, and the public gives more importance to entertainment than to hard news and education. As long as Americans believe that maintaining the American life-style is more important than saving the world from war and environmental degradation. As long as those beliefs are held, and the American culture continues to be self-absorbed and self-important, I have no hope that there is enough courage or outrage to change the direction of the stampede that is now headed over the cliff’s edge. My only hope is that after the Empire falls (whether it be economic, anarchy, world war, pandemic, or climate change disasters), that there will be enough candles left in the night to pick up the pieces and rebuild a saner world. I’m afraid this one is too far gone.

Does that mean I have given up? Raised the white flag of surrender? Say, “Oh well, there is nothing I can do about it?” Absolutely not! I will continue to be a grouchy old woman protesting loudly, a thorn in the side of apathy and blind denial. And I will continue to look for all those candles in the night, support them, and add my own. The future of our planet is worth fighting for, and I will do so to the end of my days.

I am by no means alone in my skepticism and cynical view of America. This morning on the Common Dreams website I read an article written by Beth Quinn called, STUNNED BY LACK OF OUTRAGE, NOT OUTRAGEOUS ACTS. “I am stunned by all that is left of America: Americans,” she says. Stunned by the absence of outrage. By days end there were 104 comments posted to her article, which I guess says something about the frustration that people are experiencing. Most just said, “Tell us what to do.” Perhaps that is where we start.
... P. L. Morningstar

A Fire Bell in the Night

For two and a half months we have driven some 14,730 miles (or 23,706 kilometers) across two countries searching for signs of hope in these dark times. What did we find? A lot.

The first and probably the most important observation is that there is a genuine recognition of the problems that we face and acknowledgement of the seriousness of those problems. There is also a deep commitment on the part of many of the people we met to do something about them.

Second, no one that we talked with is waiting for the government or corporations or national political parties to act. Individuals, small groups and communities are taking action themselves. And they are doing an effective job. It is a bottom-up, rather than a top-down movement. There are some notable exceptions at the state and city level - Vermont's limits on urban growth and protection of small farms, California's environmental legislative initiatives, and Portland, Oregon, which may well be the most attractive and progressive city in North America. But these examples are exceptions. The real effort is being done by individuals and small groups.

All across Canada and the U.S. we found individuals - farmers like Nick Botner, coffee shop owners like Wes Bergmann at the Blue Moose Coffee House (see photo of Wes, and posting below),,,, and groups like Wiser Earth, the Small Planet Institute, and The Elders to name just a few, and there are websites like Common Dreams that daily bring together some of the best writing on our current state. Then there are the books by Paul Hawken and Frances Moore Lappe - "Blessed Unrest" by Hawken and "Getting a Grip" by Lappe have similar threads running through them and deserve to be read by everyone concerned about the direction we are taking. Howard Zinn is quoted as follows: "A small number of people in every generation are forerunners, in thought, action, spirit, who hold a torch high for the rest of us. Lappé is one of those." And so is Paul Hawken. If you haven't read them yet, you need to find an independent bookstore and buy a copy of each and start reading.

Third, the "fire bell in the night" (Thomas Jefferson, April 22, 1820) has already sounded. Alarms about the degrading environment, our loss of civil rights and constitutional guarantees, growing social injustice, governments out of touch with the will of the people, and an economy ruled by greed have been heard more and more frequently, and the results of inaction are painfully obvious. The real hope lies not in the sounding of the alarm, but in the decision to act. Now. ... Bob

Blue Moose Coffee House

With snow falling outside and the wheels of our Jeep at a standstill, we now have time to look back over the past two and a half months and to reflect upon what we discovered. The last stop we made before heading back to northern B.C. a week ago, was also the first stop we had made at the beginning of our road trip. A town with the name of Hope seemed to be an appropriate place to start a journey called “Looking for Hope. “

So we begin and end with the Blue Moose Coffee House where they serve “Ethical Bean” fair trade organic coffee, and genuinely care that the small-scale farmers receive a fair price for their efforts.

THE BLUE MOOSE Coffee House (12 September 2007)

We were in Hope, B.C., the first major stop on our road-trip. We were looking for a place to get some coffee and an internet connection. Good and fast respectively. We found the Blue Moose Cafe, which had both. Very good coffee, some of the best food in town, and the friendliest staff you could find anywhere. In the course of occupying a pair of comfortable over-stuffed chairs in a small back room out of the way of the main customer traffic, we met Wes Bergmann, the owner of the Blue Moose. Wes was the kind of person that we had hoped to find along the way but really didn't expect would just sit down and introduce himself on this Saturday morning. A drop-in from a very kind universe, thank you. Wes is one of those people that speak plainly and directly and with an openness of feeling that gives the kind of authority to his opinions that is so needed and is so lacking in contemporary public discourse. Wes talked about the sad attitude of greed in business today, the politics of fear as practiced by the radical right, and the rampant exploitation of people and resources. And Wes acts on those opinions in both his business and his private life. Every one of his staff that we talked to were enthusiastic about working for Wes. "The coffee business" has extra meaning for Wes and his staff. It has to do with fair trade dealings with the people who grow the coffee, insisting on ethical suppliers, on through to serving the consumers of the end product at the Blue Moose. Fair and ethical dealings and service to others in his business practice and sharing of his time and profits with those in need. ... Bob

When we returned to the Blue Moose last Monday, Wes welcomed us back. He told us he had just watched a documentary called “Black Gold,” an expose about the coffee industry in Ethiopia. The Black Gold website describes the movie: “Multinational coffee companies now rule our shopping malls and supermarkets and dominate the industry worth over $80 billion, making coffee the most valuable trading commodity in the world after oil. But while we continue to pay for our lattes and cappuccinos, the price paid to coffee farmers remains so low that many have been forced to abandon their coffee fields.” Wes said that after seeing this film he would never drink another cup of Starbuck’s Coffee. And he is planning a visit to the Guatemala coffee fields in the near future for a first hand look.

Homecoming

We stopped to say, “We’re back,” and to pick up the house key. They invited us to stay for vegetarian pizza, Cheryl busy in the kitchen chopping up home-grown peppers, tomatoes, and onions, but it was already dark and we were tired, and after two and a half months on the road, we were anxious to get home. They understood.

We knew we would come home to a warm cabin, Richard had started a fire in the woodstove earlier in the day – a welcoming gift in itself – but little did we know we would be welcomed by a basket full of good things to eat and a bundle of kindling to keep the fires going. We opened the bottle of sparkling apple cider to celebrate our homecoming, and the generous friends who made our long journey possible. We went looking for hope, and find it here – in Kitwanga – with friends like Richard and Cheryl.
... P. L. Morningstar

Woodcock Mountain from our front door.

Crossing Borders

Crossing borders nowadays is like playing Russian roulette. You never know what to expect, even two greying old timers like us, pulling a funky little trailer. It hasn’t always been this way. During the years we lived aboard our sailboat, we often crossed the international waters between the U.S. and Canada. Usually all we had to do was phone the customs officer from the dockside call box to report our arrival. I remember once when Bob had finished giving the officer our passport and ship identification data, the officer said, “Welcome to Canada, and wish Morningstar a Happy Birthday.” Can you imagine that happening in these post-911 times? Sunday, while waiting in the long line of cars at the Canadian border we felt some anxiety, but after we assured the beefy customs officer that we were not carrying any alcohol, firearms, or ammunition, he merely waved us on, “Enjoy your stay in Canada.”

Once we crossed the border, our first stop was what has become a ritual for us – the Abbotsford Tim Horton’s. The first time we stopped here was on our way back to the states after making an offer on our northern British Columbia property. Timmy’s was having its annual ‘Roll Up The Rim to Win’ contest. One of us won a free cup of coffee, and the other won a free donut. We decided it was a good omen – we had to come back to claim our prizes! Tim Hortons is a Canadian icon – it was even asked by the Canadian military to open a franchise at the Canadian Forces operations base in Kandahar, Afghanistan. If you want to see a good cross-section of the Canadian public, just sit for awhile in a local Tim Hortons… you’ll see everything from turban-wearing Seiks, cowboy-hatted ranchers, construction workers, old gaffers gathered for morning coffee, RCMP officers, teenagers, and business people. It is a community gathering place. Tim Hortons commands 76% of the Canadian market for baked goods (based on the number of customers served) and holds 62% of the Canadian coffee market. Sorry Starbucks!
... P. L. Morningstar

Back to the Beginning

There it stood, arched against a sunny sky and reflected in the calm waters of the South Beach Marina. It was the same and yet not the same as on that clear November night more than ten years ago when Bob and I steered our 47-foot sailboat under the bridge that has spanned Yaquina Bay since 1936. On that night the lights on the bridge became our beacon as we strained to distinguish the red and green navigational lights from the myriad of streetlights reflecting off the dark waters of the bay. It was the culmination of a three-day sail down the Washington and Oregon coastlines, bringing Chiron to her new homeport… Newport, Oregon, home of “Free Willy,” Rogue Ale, and Mo’s Clam Chowder. It had been my first experience at sea and marked the beginning of a new life for me. A year later we sailed away from Oregon, heading north to the rugged coastlines and islands of British Columbia where we lived aboard our sailboat for three years. Now we live in a log cabin, with rivers and snow-capped mountains, but saltwater still flows in our veins. It's good to see the Yaquina Bay Bridge once again.
... P. L. Morningstar

Noah of the Apple Trees

We were visiting Morningstar's sister Judy and her husband Ray near Yoncalla, a small town in southern Oregon. They live on a farm that has a history dating back to the 1846 Applegate Trail, the southern route of the Oregon Trail. The historic Trail ran by what is now the front of the farmhouse. At one time part of the house was a post office, and an early sawmill was located in what is now the yard. Some of the grape vines and apple trees that grow around the house go back several generations. While Ray was showing me around, I told him that I was interested in heritage apples and he informed me that his friend and neighbor across the road had a few. Sure, I thought, old but unidentified - not of much use when I had been searching unsuccessfully for several specific varieties. But it was worth a try, so Ray took me over to meet Nick Botner. Well, it turns out that Nick is a systematic collector of apple trees and is world famous. He has over 3500 varieties of apple trees growing in his orchard and is constantly seeking out new varieties to add to his collection. Some are of historic interest, some rare, others are newly developed. He is currently in the process of writing a definitive text and photos on some 1000 apple varieties. This is one very impressive man. Nick is about 80 and easily looks and acts 20 years younger. In a 2004 article in Mother Earth News, Jerry Schroyer of Canby, Oregon, past president of the Home Orchard Society, calls Nick "the Noah of the apple collecting world." Schroyer says, "He wanted to have one of everything and sought out unusual varieties. He has this urge to save every apple variety out there."

I asked Nick for two trees that I had been looking for, the Esopus Spitzenburg (Thomas Jefferson's favorite apple) and the Northern Spy (considered a good dessert and cider apple, but especially known as the number one pie apple, it may have been called the "Northern Pie Apple" in the 1800's). No problem, he had both and he suggested that I take ones grafted on particularly hardy rootstock since they were going to Northern British Columbia. He then suggested I try the Wenatchee Early. He said that I would thank him for this one. I accepted the suggestion without hesitation. Later, when I tried to find it online, I had no luck. It doesn't seem to exist. Every list, every search engine that I tried failed to find it. What I did find were multiple references to Nick Botner and his amazing collection of apples. I found the following comment on one of the websites: "Nick Botner is a throwback to generations past, unassuming and thoroughly knowledgeable as to all of the apples, nuts, berries, fruits and grapes he raises which makes it a delight to visit with him, in addition to his products being first class. "

I agree. And Nick Botner is also first class. .... Bob

You Can't Go Home Again

I was born in Oregon. I grew up in Oregon, and I lived more than twenty-five of my adult years in the valleys that lie nestled between the Cascade and Coastal Mountains. I have a son, sisters, nephews, nieces, and old friends who still call Oregon home. So when we crossed the Idaho-Oregon border, I experienced a mix of emotions… some of which I did not understand then and struggle to understand even now. Driving over the Santiam Pass under a sunny blue sky and with the fragrance of pine and juniper permeating the air, I found memories flooding back of summer vacations, wilderness backpacking jaunts, and quilting workshops attended in the small central Oregon town of Sisters. The McKenzie Highway brought tears to my eyes as we drove through lush fir forests past campgrounds with names I still remember and small towns from my earliest childhood. “I learned to fly fish here in the McKenzie River,” I told Bob, “My Uncle Hank taught me.”

But with all the good memories, there is also the sense of loss… My connection to Oregon is broken; with parents dead and a divorce that splintered my own family, there is little for me to return to… no homecoming. I am a visitor. That is the way of things, especially as the years go by and our circle of friends and family grows smaller. Some move on and others stay in place to become the touchstones that we cling to, wanting to believe there are some things that don’t change. But they do, and I find myself trying to reconcile the Oregon I remember with the Oregon that has evolved in my absence. Towns have exploded into cities, rural countryside turned into shopping malls, two-lane highways widened into four-lane motorways, and scenic corridors of evergreen trees are now clear-cut mountainsides rising behind an inadequate fringe of roadside trees. Like most of the states that we have crossed on this road trip, Oregon has fallen victim to the mantra of “Growing the economy.” I wonder if Oregonians realize how much they have lost.
... P. L. Morningstar

The Quiet Season

It is the quiet season – the season between seasons. The roads are empty, the tourists gone. “Closed” signs hang on doors and in windows. Our trailer looks like an orphan in the only Yellowstone campground remaining open. A dusting of snow covers the higher peaks, and lies in frozen patches along shaded hillsides. Ice rims a stream that meanders through a slough of golden grass and burnished red sedge. It will not be long before the winter snow flies. The animals know, and take this time to fatten up for what lies ahead.

There is something marvelous about hearing elk bugling, watching hundreds of buffalo move slowly across the Lamar Valley, or to see big horn sheep drinking from a pool of water beside the road, unconcerned with we humans in their midst. It reminds me of my visit to the Galapagos Islands when I walked past blue boobies sitting on their ground nests, iguanas, both land and sea, and swam with a penguin. The wild creatures knew no fear because they are protected from harm.

On our drive today, we crossed the bridge over Yellowstone River heading east on the Roosevelt Tower Road – the only road open to us. A movement near the road caught our attention. A wolf ready to cross the road, was caught in that moment of indecision at hearing the approach of our car. For a moment we all looked at each other, surprised. Then the wolf turned and retreated back into the trees. Further down the road we saw several groups of cars and people. They stood on a knoll with high-powered spotting scopes mounted on tripods. We looked in the direction they were pointed – could it be big horn sheep they were watching? We continued until we saw another group pulled off the road. Our curiosity finally got the best of us, and we stopped. Bob got out of the Jeep to ask one of the men what they were looking at. The man requested that Bob turn off the engine and then brusquely said that he was listening to wolf howls, and trying to locate them. Bob said, “We saw a wolf just down the road,” but the man paid no attention. Probably thought we were just stupid tourists who didn’t know what we were looking at. So we went on. I don’t know if they ever saw the wolves but we had to laugh at how close the wolf was to the very group that was looking for him – in the wrong direction.

Yellowstone National Park is a treasure, saved and protected by farsighted men in 1872. It was the world’s first national park. Native Americans historically spoke of being good stewards of the land so that it remained unchanged for the seventh generation to enjoy. In Yellowstone’s case we are close to that seventh generation now – can we do the same for future generations?
...P. L. Morningstar













Roosevelt Arch at North Entrance

The Quiet Season: Part Two

We are here in Yellowstone during the few months between the intense Summer tourist time and the Winter invasion of snowmobiles and "snowcoaches." Only the north entrance and the park road to the northeast entrance and the town of Cooke City is open. The only campground still operating is Mammoth. There were only three other campsites occupied the nights that we stayed there. But it was the perfect cool, crisp Autumn weather of childhood memories. Clear blue sky, bright sunny days and incredible starry nights filled with the sounds of elk and coyote. I don't believe that I have ever seen night skies so brilliant as here. Maybe it's the altitude, maybe the clarity of the air, maybe the absence of competing light - maybe all of it, but it beats even the night skies at our cabin in northern British Columbia, something I never thought that I would find.

The first morning we woke up to a parade of elk going by the window of our camper. By the time that we got organized enough to grab a camera (Morningstar of course) and started counting, we had numbered over 30 critters. After breakfast we decided to drive across the park to Cooke City. We came across the elk again at the Mammoth Park Headquarters where they seemed to be very much at home lounging around the main buildings. Even a local dog was hanging out in the same area and seemed to regard the elk as part of the usual scene.

We continued on hoping to see a buffalo. Morningstar was especially hoping to see one. Well, we saw hundreds. Everywhere we went, including hiking up some side trails, we encountered these great, shaggy beasts. In reflecting on our Yellowstone experience we both agreed that we had seen much in this tiny portion of a national park that is comprised of 3,472 square miles. We promised ourselves we would be back. ..Bob

From Sea to Shining Sea

During our long haul on the Toll Roads of Illinois and Ohio, I often felt diminished by the number and immense size of the transport trucks that whizzed past us, hauling consumer goods from coast to coast. There was little to see along the Interstate, except for the trucks, so I began jotting down their names and the mottos emblazoned upon their cabs and containers. Names like: Cobra, Challenger, Spirit Express, and Covenant Transport. Mottos like: “We support the backbone of America,” “Don’t worry about the mule. Just load the wagon,” “Rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God,” and “It is not a choice. It is a child.” Another was “From Sea to Shining Sea,” and I thought about how at one time in our history that was true, but no more. Yes, heavy traffic, endless shopping malls, and one identical town after another makes me a gloomy person. So it was with great relief when we hit the wide-open spaces of Wisconsin, Minnesota, South Dakota, and Wyoming. I could breathe again. I felt myself expand. And when I saw great flocks of migrating birds in Minnesota and herds of pronghorn antelope grazing the high plain grasses of Wyoming, lyrics of a childhood song began running through my head – Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam, where the deer and the antelope play. And another that my Dad liked to sing, Oh give me land, lots of land under starry skies above. Don't Fence Me In. Let me ride through the wide-open country that I love. Don't Fence Me In. It reassures me to know that there still exist vast expanses of prairie, and buttes, and purple mountain majesties from sea to shining sea!

And while I wax poetic about our nation’s grandeur, I know how easily it can be lost. From the moment we hit the South Dakota border we were bombarded by huge billboards that lined Interstate 90 and marred the landscape. Reptile Gardens, Bear Country, Deadwood, casinos, theme parks of every kind, water parks, Sitting Bull Crystal Caves, McDonalds Farm. Mile after mile. We wanted to see Mount Rushmore and worried that it too would be commercialized, especially when we saw signs claiming that it would provide “A Life Changing Patriotic Experience.” Thankfully the commercialization was left outside the National Monument, and we could quietly contemplate the immensity of the undertaking, and pride in the ideals that our country was founded upon – represented by the likeness in stone of George Washington and Thomas Jefferson. Presidents like Abraham Lincoln and Theodore Roosevelt who governed with dignity for the good of the nation and its citizens. I did not have a life changing patriotic experience; I am not a flag-waving patriot, but I do take pride in the nation we once were, and can only hope that we will find it within ourselves to return to those ideals. What kind of patriot am I? Our bumper sticker says it best: “Dissent is the highest form of patriotism.” The words are popularly attributed to Thomas Jefferson, but more accurately attributed to present day historian, Howard Zinn. Never before has informed dissent been more needed than today. ...P. L. Morningstar

Hope as Action

In our continuing quest for signs of hopefulness I recently found an article in The Nation by John Nichols that spoke to the issue. This article led to the work of Frances Moore Lappe, then to her website and finally to her own very special view on hope.

John Nichols wrote in the 2 November 2007 issue of The Nation an article entitled “Frances Moore Lappe’s Recipe for Radical Renewal. He says of her:

“No popular intellectual has been so very successful in reshaping the character and content of debates about environmental and food policy as this remarkable woman. It is true that there are still deniers of the truths she advances. But they are increasingly isolated in the West Wing of the Bush White House. And their days are numbered.”

This is the person who is probably best known for her book “Diet for a Small Planet” which was published in 1971 and has sold over 3 million copies. She has written some 15 additional books. Now she has published “Getting a Grip: Clarity, Creativity and Courage in a World Gone Mad”. In the Introduction of this new work she asks:

“Why can’t we have a nation - why can’t we have a world we’re proud of? Why can’t we stop wringing our hands over poverty, hunger, species decimation, genocide, and death from curable disease that we know is all needless? The truth is there is no reason we can’t. They say - whoever the “they” are - that as we age, we mellow. I don’t think so. I’m getting less and less patient. Why? Because I realize that humanity has no excuses anymore. In the span of my own lifetime, both historical evidence and breakthroughs in knowledge have wiped out all our excuses. We know that we know how to end this needless suffering, and we have all the resources to do it. From sociology and anthropology to economics, from education and ecology to systems analysis - the evidence is in. We know what works.”

In his closing Nichols says that Lappe “is as right now as she has been in the past. It is time to go for it — no half steps, no half measures. We have a name for the failures of the past: Bush. Now that the Bush era is ending, we need to name and claim the future.”

I believe that Nichols is right in his praise of Lappe and her clarity of vision, and in his call for acting on that vision of what we can - what we must, accomplish. In visiting her website (smallplanetinstitute.org) there is much there that parallels the work of Paul Hawkin and his book ”Blessed Unrest” which we wrote about earlier. Both Lappe and Hawkin present optimistic views and realistic possibilities of bringing about a better world.

I was especially impressed with the lead quote on her website about hope: “Hope is not what we seek in evidence, it’s what we become in action...”

Bob

Windustry

Minnesota is among the nation's leaders in wind energy production. High-tech wind turbines are springing up across the Minnesota countryside, producing electricity for farmers and for commercial sale. As we drove along Interstate 90 today we watched as new lines were being strung to conduct the power from the wind turbines to the power grid. Farmers say it is a better investment for them than growing corn. I say it is a good investment for all of us.