Economy: It's hard work

You've been hearing it all over the place, probably every single day for the last several months: the economy sucks. Everyone says it. And it sure looks like it, with people losing their jobs left and right.

I know a little bit about this. I've been looking for work on and off for the past several months, and I can tell you that the available employment situation in central Wisconsin has worsened considerably--and it wasn't even that great to begin with. In the middle of '08 I would say there were plenty of jobs available, albeit not-so-desirable jobs, but still, plenty of jobs. Now, well, it's slim out there. Back then, a non-specific job search on the local daily newspaper classifieds yielded about 15-20 new job postings a day. Now you get that many new job postings every five days or so.

Still, in 08, wife and I combined made more money than we ever did as a couple. But we still struggled to make it at the end of the year. I don't exactly know why. For one, we probably spent more in general (that tends to happen when you make more money). For another, food and fuel costs were way up (though, we were less impacted by food prices because of our involvement with local agriculture). Regarding fuel: since we've lived in this apartment (it's been over four years now) we've managed to, on average, cut our electricity usage year to year. Electricity runs everything in our apartment (heat, stove, hot water, etc.). And yet, our electricity bills have continued to rise, this past December being the highest bill ever. Granted, it was cold, so heat was being generated at a high rate. But still, what kind of encouragement is that? People learn to use less, people cut back, but costs continue to rise. What's that? It's a dysfunctional economy.

That's right, the economy isn't bad, it's fundamentally dysfunctional.

I understand there are holes in my examples above. I do admit that we probably spent more in general. But ask my wife, she thinks I'm pretty extreme about avoiding purchases, so my idea of increased spending is probably a bit overstated. And I do admit that the winter has been cold. But if you look at the raw numbers provided on our little electric bill you can see that we've done a pretty damn good job of cutting our kWh usage in relation to heating/cooling degree days.

I think it has gotten to the point where if you live most of your existence in the mainstream American economy, you have few options to control your own livelihood--unless, of course, you desire money, pursue it, and are good at attaining it (the shortcomings of money coveting is a topic for a different post). For the rest of us who hold different values, our only opportunity for making a living, in my opinion, is to reject the dominant economic paradigm.

(What I'm about to say, I'm fully aware, is not anything new. It's all been said before. But now's the time for us to really consider viable alternatives to an economy that's been broken for so long. Perhaps this is the first time in several decades where a critical mass of people is willing to really question the way things are run and how it affects their daily lives. I'm just a messenger trying to straddle the divide.)


So, if I want to cut costs, take gentle steps on the Earth, and live a more satisfying life, I need to either change the deeply entrenched economic system (which many people much smarter than me have been trying to do for so many years now, to nearly no avail) or a bunch of us need to opt out and make our own economy (which is already happening successfully in small patches throughout the world). Whichever path one chooses to take to an alternative economy, it's gonna involve a rededication to good old human labor.


In the alternative economy I'm directly responsible for my heat, for example. If I'm using wood, the biggest "cost" is personal labor, which involves me and my neighbors actively managing a forest, cutting down some trees (or clearing dead timbers), hauling wood, and maintaining a heating system. But (here's a major key) it's not a cost in the traditional sense, with the proper mindset, because my labor is enjoyable. I get to be physically and mentally active (it keeps me healthy in more ways than one), in many cases I get to be outside (which I think is a built-in human desire), and the cash money I need to spend on such an activity is minimal. No doubt, physical labor and active, meaningful problem solving aren't always a "good time," but far worse is paying the utility provider, who you have absolutely no sway with. (And really, we pay money to go to college or work out at the gym, when a good majority of both meaningful education and physical wellness can be provided through truly productive personal labor.) If I'm providing my own utilities, on the other hand, I guide the entire process: I make the decisions that affect me--not some faceless, sprawling company who doesn't have a meaningful relationship with me or have my interests at heart.


Two things about this economy. Despite the way I describe it, it's not an "I" economy; it requires people consciously working together. Imagine that. It requires community. In that sense, it is much more like the way we have lived for the majority of our time on this planet. The other thing: using wood for heat is only a convenient example; this economy is a modern and forward-looking one that can utilize (when it comes to the example of energy use) things like solar forced-hot-air, earth-rammed construction, passive solar, and, really, anything you can think of that is not energy intensive.

So, I have a real stimulus package for you: we should learn to do things and make the majority of our decisions on a small-scale local level. But let's not be ridiculous about this. You don't have to be some jack of all trades, some complete do-it-yourselfer. It's the 21st century, and we've learned a lot, invented a lot of useful things. Specialization makes sense, but only if we have a general understanding and awareness of the system that makes it possible for us to live a good life. We need to make the system accountable to what we value. Then the possibilities expand.


But we can't be afraid to do a little bit of hard work.

Parting with my shit

I put an ad up on Craigslist today to sell our bed, couch, microwave, TV, and other various crap. And it wasn't 10 minutes before someone was emailing about the stuff. I was shocked. Mind you, this is central Wisconsin, and our city doesn't have its own Craigslist page. But now I know. Sold the TV, some fans, and a toaster oven in a matter of minutes (they were all dirt cheap). Someone already has dibs on the couch. And the bed is supposed to be looked at this aft.

Because I'm stupid and didn't think that people would be interested this quickly, I didn't even contemplate what it would be like to live without these things for about three weeks. I'm thinking, Damn, that's gonna suck. I was even thinking that about the stupid, crappy-ass TV that I hardly ever watch. What's wrong with me?

I mean, in reality, it will be no problem to live without these things. We'll make a nest of blankets on the floor of the bedroom and be perfectly comfortable. We'll set up our camping chairs in the living room and that'll be just fine. The TV and toaster oven are pretty useless anyway, in my opinion. And the fans: well, you know how damn cold it is here right now.

But then I can't help but think that it's such a shame to get rid of these items when we likely won't be able to buy replacements for them for anything close to what we're selling them for. In fact, it'll be a miracle if we ever own a nice king-size bed again. Who knows though, it's gonna be several months before we have to even think about replacing any of this.

It's stupid. We're so attached to our things. In the grand scheme, I'm glad that this move (because of its distance and the expense of renting a truck to haul stuff across the country) is forcing me to purge some of this crap.

After thinking on it a bit, I know that none of this stuff is really important, in the sense that I don't really need any of it to make it through this world (except for maybe the fans in the summertime, but that's not a hard replacement).

It's just hard, as a spoiled American, to get over the addiction to these material goods. I think I'm gonna combat the inevitable withdrawals by honing my building and repair skills; then, at least, my things will have some sort of real labor and satisfaction to them.

Buying local: Frank's Hardware

Who frequents an independent hardware store? It's probably rare in these days of Lowes, Menards, and Home Depot. But, I'll tell you, I'll take Frank's Hardware over any of them, any day of the week.

I went to Frank's today because I needed to do something that I knew I couldn't do at any one of the big places. See, I needed a particular tool. I needed to find a socket that fit my engine oil drain plug. I've done my own oil before with borrowed tools, but my absentmindedness stopped me from noting what size wrench/socket I used to do the job. All I knew was that my own tool set didn't contain the right tools. So, I figured I either must pinpoint what size socket I needed or just buy a whole set of sockets that were larger than what my current tool set contains. Anyway, finances being how they are, I decided on the former. And I knew that there was only one place that could help me.

So I went to Frank's, the local, independently owned hardware store in Stevens Point, which still survives despite the long presence of several national retailers who offer better prices than they do. But they survive for a reason. And I'm about to tell you why.

Not a minute after I walked into the store, an employee came up to me and asked me if I needed help (this is standard at Frank's). And it wasn't just some random person hired off the street; this guy had some knowledge (also standard at Frank's). I explained my situation and he immediately had some suggestions for me (again, standard). And then he handed me a bunch of different sized sockets and told me I was free to go out to the parking lot and check to see if they matched what I was looking for. After two trials I found the exact thing I was looking for, a 19mm socket. $2.40 later (as opposed to $18 plus for a set of larger metric sockets), I was all set, going home with exactly what I needed--nothing more.

I know this sounds like some sort of advertisement, but make no mistake, time and time again I've found that a local establishment, run by local people, with local connections, is almost always better than the alternative. These folks have a vested interest in their community, whether they be hardware, agriculture, or food service. I hope we start to realize that these are the people that keep not only our communities going, but also our economy.

Cross-quarter day and roots

Yesterday was a cross-quarter day--the midpoint between the solstice and the equinox. For many traditional cultures, the day was important: it marked the approximate beginning of spring. While it certainly doesn't feel like spring out there, I can understand where these people were coming from. After a hard winter, it's nice to anticipate warmer weather knocking on the door. And in some places it is here. Even in Wisconsin we had a thaw day recently, with more to come this weekend.

Now, in the U.S., Feb. 2 is officially Groundhog Day. I don't know about the groundhog. I'm just glad Hallmark doesn't own the day and we don't give each other crappy cards for no reason. For others past and present the day is/was called Imbolc, Candlemas, Oimelc, Lupercalia, Feast of Nut, etc. It was an important day because time and place meant a lot to the livelihood of the people who celebrated it. Now it's mostly just a silly day.

But I sort of celebrated the day by reflecting and taking stock. It made me think about the food we stored this year. The midway point between the astronomical seasons seems to be a good point to reflect on such a thing. It is also a rough midpoint between last harvest and next harvest.

It was our second year of storing crops in earnest. This year was by far the most food we've stored, with something like 100 lbs at the start of the storage season. Our method of storage is pretty crude: we have a tiny apartment that doesn't offer much variation in temperature or humidity from room to room, so we're pretty limited as to what we can offer our veggies.

Potatoes live in an Empty Beer Box in the Living Room Closet™, which is adjacent to the outside wall of the apartment and thus is the coldest space. Winter squash lives in a paper grocery bag underneath the kitchen table. Onions and garlic live on the bottom shelves in a lower cabinet in the kitchen. Carrots, parsnips, rutabagas, cabbage, celeriac, radishes, beets, and turnips live in various places in the fridge (mostly the crisper, but the crisper can't hold them all at the beginning of the storage season). We've got peppers of all kinds sliced up in the freezer and dehydrated tomatoes in a bag in the cabinet. Some carrot-habanero sauce in a jar in the fridge. And we've been long done with our frozen salsa and tomato sauce.

Storage has gone amazing this year, considering the less-than-ideal conditions of our apartment (we do keep it relatively cool though, for many reasons).

Potatoes (especially the russets) are just now starting to shrivel a bit and the sprouts are starting to get out of hand (because they want to be planted soon!). The yellow-fleshed varieties seem to be holding up the best. Luckily I just reupped my stash of locally grown yellow potatoes, which have up till now been stored in ideal conditions (it was a fringe benefit from a good job).

Squash is doing exceptional, aside from the two red kuris we lost to rot about a week ago (if you've ever tasted them, it is a real loss). The acorns, which are still good and solid, have turned all orange!

Garlic and onions are as good as new, and we have a lot of them left, which is awesome.

Everything in the fridge is still doing well aside from a few cabbage, parsnip, daikon, and celeriac casualities at various points throughout the winter.

The tomatoes are perfect.

And we have a few peppers left in the freezer.

So there it is. Lots of real food left to bring us through the next couple months, which I'm so grateful for. It took a lot of hard but ultimately satisfying work to grow, care for, harvest, and store them. Next summer/fall we'll see about doing more dehydrating and canning.

A new day?

[Begin unpopular rant]

Yeah, call me a cynic. Or a partypooper.

I mean, he says this country has a place for nonbelievers. But I don't see it. And hey, at least call us what we are: believers in something else. Because everybody has beliefs. And everybody has faith in something or other. It doesn't have to be metaphysical.

He talks big about renewable energy and environmental responsibility. But I don't see it. What about localized systems that make sense on a local level and simpler, gentler ways of living? Can we talk about real, from-the-ground-up solutions and not repeat--ad nauseum--lofty, old-style, bureaucratically driven concepts? We're supposed to be progressive, right?

Do the words defeat and win really still mean anything? He says we will destroy them (or something like that). But who really are they, and how, exactly, will such destruction play out? I thought you said your favorite show was The Wire. I guess I foolishly thought you might agree that the world can't be so easily divided into good guys and bad guys.

And really, all those typical politicians in the cabinet? Yes, there were a few strong choices. But I kept hearing about some sort of change I could really believe in.

To be fair, he carries himself differently than most of those fed types. And he often talks a good game. And I really believe that people believe in him. All of which carries a lot of weight and potential.

Despite my cynicism, I do have a glimmer of hope for him. Just not for our broken, corrupting, federal government.

[/End unpopular rant]

Ruining the climate change party

How about that An Inconvenient Truth? I actually think that Al Gore changed the world like few people have in recent history. Don't ask me how he made such a tremendous splash with a PowerPoint presentation. I guess it was the straightforward, few-frills approach. It's quite unexplainable. Whatever the case, we've reached a tipping point, where a critical mass of people stands up to tell our leaders (and everyone else in the panopticon) that something needs to be done or shit is really going to hit the fan. Even non-chemists know what the hell CO2 means now. Every company that wants to continue making money has learned that they have to "go green" and proclaim their love for "the environment" publicly. For fuck's sake, even Rupert Murdoch, in what must be a sign that the Four Horsemen are on their way, has said that he is revamping News Corp. to be more, as the kids say, ecofriendly.

I'm all for it (ignore my cynical panopticon reference for a moment), as long as people back up their talk with action and we see the earth and its creatures (people too, for you anthropocentrists) begin to heal after a couple hundred years of industrial onslaught.

But, I'm a party pooper, too. See, there are two major problems with all the rage over climate change: 1) some people are faking their concern or using it to cover other misdeeds, and 2) the welcome but overly obsessive focus on this issue has taken almost all attention off other equally important ecological issues.

Regarding point 2, yeah, it sucks that so many people are pumping carbon dioxide into the atmosphere at such high rates. But it also sucks that so many people are destroying (both legally and illegally) such large quantities of intricately evolved habitat that unique species are losing their only homes and niches, and localized ecosystems are quickly (in the blink of the earth's eye) collapsing. Biodiversity is on a rapid decline thanks to direct (as opposed to, for example, the secondary collapses associated with climate change) human destruction, which has got to be just as urgent a situation as greenhouse-gas emissions. Let's not take our eye off the larger ball.

I mean, people are obsessed with the topic of climate change. They say, "We're reducing our emissions." That's great and all, but I think reducing emissions and encouraging companies by buying into their emission-reduction advertisements is missing the whole point of making a change. Whether people are reducing their emissions is not really the central concern here: the key question we need to be asking each other is, are you adjusting so that you no longer needlessly wound the earth? In other words, are people reducing their emissions simply because reducing emissions seems like the righteous thing to do , or are they reducing their emissions because they understand it to be part of their wider obligation to protecting their home? If it's the former, we're screwed; if it's the latter, well, then we are automatically concerned with more than climate change and will make a real difference. Wholesale changes are needed, not fads or marketing campaigns.

What I really worry about in the short term with the whole banging of the environmental drum is that people are going to paint themselves green in order to take advantage of the wildly popular image they can create. The cases are popping up already because companies know they can make some serious money if they lead the way.

Here's one example--

Gulahiyi thoroughly informs us, in several well-written posts, of the very recent bursting of a dam that was part of the exclusive, highly touted Balsam Mountain Preserve (nice name, huh?) golf course in the mountains of North Carolina:

Balsam Mountain Preserve is an interesting case. Ever since they set up shop here, they’ve garnered plenty of press. But reportage has been almost entirely public relations, with hardly any NEWS. Chalk it up to a Balsam Mountain Preserve public relations team that understands media, understands the message it wants to convey, and understands how to use environmentally-friendly jargon designed to project a certain image.

The out-of-town investors behind the project claimed that the waters they managed in the "preserve" were uber-clean, their practices were so environmentally friendly, and their water was the last remaining haven of southern brook trout. In the meantime, rivers downstream from the golf course were slowly silting up and wildlife was dying. Oh, and it turns out that they were wrong about the trout. And then, the damn burst and people downstream were really up a creek. Luckily no one died. But the local media are apparently doing a shitty job of reporting on the situation.

Golf courses and rich folk retirement/vacation communities are going up all over the mountains (ah, to enjoy nature's beauty, right?), leading to landslides, water quality problems, erosion, and general habitat destruction.

Old transportation of the two-wheel kind

I ride my bike to work almost every day. I do it for the earth, my health, and my wallet.

From an ecological perspective, all I emit is the CO2 I exhale during my ride. My bike spews zero chemicals (aside from the occasional lubricant I need for my old chain), all the parts are original, and the bike is probably 15 years old.

As far as cost goes, smart environmental decisions often equal smart financial decisions. Many people in america are just beginning to really figure this connection out, but it has been evident for so long. And, as I said, the bike is 15 years old, yet I haven't had to throw down money on replacement parts. Granted, it's in pretty bad shape, and I haven't always ridden it full time, but it has been quite durable nonetheless. The brakes do need to be changed soon though--before I crash into a tree or get impaled on a hood ornament.

The health thing is definitely the most tangible reward for biking it every day. It's awesome to feel myself get stronger and gain more endurance with each ride. I probably get into work smelling like a dirty hippy and sweating like a crackhead, but life requires such tradeoffs.

My journey is six miles round trip, and I probably do another couple miles during lunch. It takes about 20 minutes to get to work. The most amazing thing about cycling, I've found, is that it's personally fulfilling and liberating to power myself around. And it actually makes going to the office a bit more tolerable.

When I first moved to Central Wisconsin, my round-trip commute to work was about 50 miles. Later, when I went back to school, it took 70 miles to get to and from the university. Now, during a normal week, I put more miles on my bike than my car. I much prefer my current mode of transportation.

I only wish I didn't have to deal with such harsh winters, however. To that end: Anybody from a warmer yet still beautiful area of the country (nudge, nudge--I love the mountains of the Southeast) want to hire me before winter returns? I'll bring you cheese.

Substance behind the statement

So, flipping through the channels last night, I caught Mitt Romney on CSPAN. It was part of their ongoing series highlighting the race for president in 2008. Mitt is a Republican, former governor of Massachusetts. I watched for about two minutes while waiting for Alton Brown to come back on, and I really couldn't handle Mitt's bullshit for much more than that anyway. At first Mitt sounded okay on the surface. He talked about lowering various taxes for the middle class--that kind of stuff that every politician talks about. Then he got all proud of his so-called social conservatism. He basically took shots at homosexuality and medical science and the other standard stuff that is so sound-biteish in modern politics. His big subconclusion was something to the effect that he has, throughout his political career, stood up for traditional values. Traditional values? I guess I don't know what that means to some people.

As a big history nut, traditional values are interesting to me. One of my passions is Appalachian history. I like the idea of a family unit and/or a community coming together to survive in this world, despite the fact that most times the rest of the world you are aware of is against your people. I value many traditions, including respect for and deep knowledge of the land. I like the tradition of self-government and self-reliance that is deeply, though more and more obscurely, rooted in our unique history. I like the fact that we have the chance to look to the oldest in our society, those who are the keepers of nearly lost knowledge.

The values of tradition that I hold dear are, to me, intrinsically useful. Losing these values would cripple our society if one day our modern technology/lifestyle failed us. I value lots of things that are rooted in the past.

Unfortunately, politicians and journalists don't understand tradition. Or, if they do, they spin tradition into a narrow meaning. Either way, the result is people like Mitt.

To interject, I don't really consider myself partisan. Most people who know me would say I'm liberal. And that's fair. I lean to the left quite heavily. But I really don't buy into the right/left dichotomy. Those who really know me would say that I have strong libertarian tendencies as well. I'm also rooted in the philosophies of Montaigne, Hume, Deleuze, Nietzsche, and Foucault. I think I'm fairly independent when it comes to issues and politics. But hey, the labels come out when you have to operate in a political system that is so polarizing. My point is that I'm not a Democrat, or a Republican, or Green, or anything. In other words, if a politician wants to talk to me about stuff, I'm listening. But you better not talk like an asshole or a simpleton.

Nowadays, the culture war is everything. One side claims tradition and values. Another side claims acceptance and progress. And none of it makes sense because all sides could easily exchange the labels they rely on and still be talking about the same shit.

When people say they stand as the gatekeepers of tradition, they're full of crap. Most people, in one way or another, cling to tradition. At the same time, most people want progress. You can't have one without the other because the resulting lack of any balance would cause the personal system you live life by to collapse for want of structural integrity. When I hear a politician get on their pedestal and tell me that they and their party represent the sole voice for tradition, it makes me want to yell. And yelling is not good: it destroys a conversation. So, I refuse to yell. But then, my subsequent natural preference is to withdraw. And that's not that good either.

What I want to see is people argue for their traditions based on the simplest sense of utility: How does your tradition and your values positively impact society? You can't just say "traditional" or "values" and automatically claim some sort of authority. No, you must elaborate. You must show us how what you hold dear is beneficial for people. You must show us relevance. I want it carefully spelled out for me every time you make such a deep claim. If you don't, I will not hesitate to completely disregard your whole message. We know how logic works: if one premise is weak or unsupported, then the rest of the argument is lost.

Sometimes tradition is unhelpful, sometimes it's productive, and sometimes it's downright harmful. All the time, it's worth exploring--but, we can't forget, so is change.

Sadly, people who are strict partisans fail to see how another perspective always--always!--has something of value to offer. Screw parties and the political spectrum and anything else that attempts to essentialize a person's mindset or philosophy. Think we'd survive without political parties or partisanship? Yeah, it's hard to even imagine what that world would be like. But I believe it's probable and preferable.

What Mitt's little superficial appeal to tradition really got me thinking about was my value for some old ways that were prevalent not too long ago: people in this country, at least those who lived the rural life (which were many), used to have a close connection to the earth. They knew when crops needed to be planted and harvested; they knew how to track animals in the woods; they knew which wild plants were which and what each was good for; they knew the best wood to burn for warmth; they knew the general time by the position of the sun, moon or stars in the sky; they knew the night sky so well in general; they knew their neighbors; they knew solitude; they knew quiet time; they knew really, truly hard work--but work that was all theirs; and they knew uncountable other things that are virtually lost in modern day America. Our entire history as humans has been about living closely with the land. While that relationship has been complicated, and filled with ups and downs, it has been the physical (and often spiritual) center and bedrock of people's lives since always.

What happens if technology and synthetics have to completely replace intuition and naturally occurring substance? I don't really know. My gut says that it would turn out bad eventually. And if it doesn't, well, I get the impression that it wouldn't be such a fun or meaningful world to live in. But I also admit that I could just be desperately clinging to an old way of life that is bound to die like so many others. I doubt it though.

So, who's seriously talking about this tradition out there? It's important to a lot of people, even if it's not vocalized loudly. (Wink wink, nudge nudge--I'm talking to some of you libertarians and environmentalists. This is right up your alley.) I want to hear talk about what it means to be self-reliant or to be an environmentalist. Our political lives are not about the hot-button, superficial issues that generate high ratings on TV. Anyone who says, "I own issue x" just doesn't get it. And that goes for everyone--right or left, the religious or the secularists, northerners or southerners, the political or the non-political, or whatever binary opposition we are told to position ourselves in.

Alright, this post is getting out of control.