Be joyful though you have considered all the facts
I published an article called Coperthwaite on Educating Children on Suite101.com.
It’s a summary of William Coperthwaite’s views on the ills of traditional schooling and family life, and the roles of nature, community and physical labor in the education of children. Food for thought, definitely, for the home and unschoolers among you!
Enjoy.
It’s only week 2 of One Local Summer – which now has its own website! – and I already feel the impact of seasonal eating: no more asparagus, and no potatoes and onions yet. But there are still heaps of leafy greens in their prime, juicy young garlic and garlic scapes, and the newly arrived raspberries.
This week’s local dinner consisted of:
The focaccia was bought at the Farmer’s Market from Clear Flour Bread, but it was made with non-local ingredients.
Yes, there was meat, and I ate it! Though my husband cooked it, really well too. It is naturally raised and 12-28 days aged beef. Wow, was it good.
It was my first meat in over a year. I thought hard about my reasons for not eating meat, and I decided that humanely, naturally and locally raised meat falls outside of those reasons. I’ll write more about this later.
I did better than last week, if I may say so myself!
I broke out of my old Farmer’s Market mold, which used to cover only veggies, fruits and herbs. This time I also got meat and goat cheese, two food items I will now no longer buy at Whole Foods. Did I tell you how very very good that goat cheese was? Wait, let me show you again:
Over the weekend we visited Allandale Farm – the even more local alternative to the Farmer’s Market – but their offering isn’t very large yet. Will go back there later, though.
I bought some ingredients for this meal at Whole Foods. I am not against shopping there – indeed, it’s a necessity for many non-food and dry-foods items – and I made sure I got their local produce and butter. Still, another point of eating locally (for me) is to buy as directly as possible from the farmer, so that he/she gets the biggest share of the food-dollar. Our Farmer’s Market doesn’t offer butter, but I could investigate a more direct local source of it. As for the tomatoes: they’ll be at the Market soon.
I’ve been following other One Local Summer participants and grains, pasta, rice, corn and beans seem to be the Achilles heel of Local Eating in many parts of the States.
I was happy to see, in Liz’s posting about her garden, that she is growing corn, for cornmeal. But what about bread, and pasta? Is it possible for a homesteader to grow enough wheat, let’s say, for his/her family? I haven’t seen (m)any online homesteaders do it…
And what about beans and rice, here in the North East?
Yoghurt! I’m going to “grow” my own yoghurt!
Two conversations.
We were noting all those people cueing up in front of the stores to get their hands on an iPhone.
– “Idiotic,” I judged, “an irrelevant piece of junk”.
– “Sacrilege!” DH countered – he’s not wanting to get an iPhone, he was just defending what it stands for.
Personally, I have been letting go, slowly at first, now faster and faster, of the idea of the future that most of us grew up with: that sci-fi sleek, sanitized, technologically facilitated world.
Now I am envisioning something more primitive and – in my eyes – wholesome: something a darker green, where growing food is the priority. No replicators a la Star Trek, but hands digging in the dirt, pulling out a carrot. No communicators, but a friendly chat with the neighbors. No transporting out to another continent, but a walk around the commons.
It all sounds very “medieval” to my husband, who is a real technology devotee and will not let go of that old dream. I don’t mind the word “medieval”: as a historian with an interest in those times, I have a more realistic – i.e., less dark – idea of the Middle Ages.
– “Well,” I concluded, “it is going to play itself out, one way or the other, in our lifetimes. We’ll revisit this talk in a couple of decades and see who was right.”
– “Okay,” he joked, “record it in that medieval contraption of yours, “your journal.”
What will we be consulting, in let’s say 30 or 40 years? The moleskine, or this blog?
Later in the evening I was reporting my progress on The Potboiler (working title of my adventure novel). Deep into my narration of medieval manuscripts, Greek myths, aniconic Bronze Age worship of the Mother Goddess, the metaphysics of time (*)… DH interrupted me:
– “That doesn’t sound like the Da Vinci Code!”
– “I found I just can’t write something like that. I think it will be more like The Name of the Rose,” I stated.
– “But I want those millions!” DH exclaimed.
– “The Name of the Rose made millions,” I could reassure him. “And they made a movie of it too. Don’t worry, we’ll still get by.”
(*) I hope that’s not a spoiler!
It’s an art! Who knew? The shopping and the cooking and the eating were fun – that is one of the rules of One Local Summer – but the photographing not so.
 This was our dinner tonight, for the first edition of One Local Summer:
I’m a vegetarian and since I was the one cooking, it was a vegetarian meal.
We’re in Brookline, Mass, a suburb of Boston, and we have a fantastic Farmer’s Market on Thursdays. Which I duly visited to purchase tonight’s ingredients:
I usually buy from the same farm stand, a small organic farm near Northhampton, Mass, which is 101 miles away – yes: exaclty 101 miles! Less as the crow flies, but then we’re counting truck miles, not crow miles… From them I got:
From another stand, a Low Spray farm, the location of which I didn’t find out, but it’s within Massachusetts – let’s say, also 101 miles:
From my potted herb garden, that is, 0 – zilch – nada miles:
And from the Clear Flour Bread in Allston, which is 2 miles away (I’ll call them tomorrow to ask where they get their flour from – cf. UPDATE below):
The great unknowns but almost certainly not local are:
To my horror, I found out that certain ingredients that are very common in my kitchen – potatoes, onions, and mushrooms – aren’t in season yet, or simply not available. This turned out to be a blessing, really, because the chard tasted much nicer without the onions. I am very grateful for the juicy and oh so soft new garlic, though!
These also came from the organic farm near Northhampton in Mass – 101 miles away. They were so deliciously sweet and juicy that I bought two pounds of them: $5 a pound because they were closing up and they were the last ones: a bit bruised, but no less tasty!
At first I was thinking of making a cake or some such with them (with King Arthur Flour) and some local eggs, and butter and sugar… sigh. I just needed to pop one into my mouth to realize they are delicious by themselves! So that’s how we had them.
So how did I do, as a “locavore” (Liz’s and Kingsolver’s word)?
Not so well, in my opinion. I still don’t know where many of my ingredients come from, and at the Market itself wasn’t assertive or present enough to ask.Â
Finding out that that organic farm, that I get 90% of my groceries from at the Market, is 101 miles away was a shocker. (Is it fair to count those 101 only once for the produce I got from there? They all came in one and the same truck….)
The point being, we have many farms much more local, many of which offer CSA’s. More importantly, Brookline itself – my own town – has a farm: Allandale Farm, which calls itself “Boston’s Last Working Farm,” whose crops are Certified Naturally Grown using organic methods. They have their own farm stand – a beautiful one, too.
For our next One Local Summer meal, I’ll go shopping there. Need to get those miles down!
For Matt (Fat Guy on a Little Bike) for letting us late-comers join in anyway!
I called Clear Flour Bread the ingredients of their lovely buckwheat walnut are for the most part from the midwest. Only the organic buckwheat is somewhat local: it is milled and grown in Westport, NY (about 200 miles from here).
We are dreaming about moving to a new place. For us that means selling this one and buying another one of approximately the same price, which means that, if we want to move, we need to move out- out of Brookline.
We’re currently in a 1050 sq.f. basement apartment in a condominium. We adore our cozy little pad, but we miss direct sunlight and a view of the sky! Bumping up against short-sighted condo-rules and residents, and the constant feeling of being walked-all-over (by our heavy-footed, insomniac upstairs neighbor) are wearing on us.
We love Brookline too, especially our “Corner”, but we can’t afford to move into a house around here, let alone one with land. Just moving up a floor will exhaust the budget. And to be honest, I get way too uspet about the incessant, false orchestra of air conditioners and leaf blowers in these crowded burbs.
If we move out far enough, we could even buy a 1500 sq.f. house on an acre of land for the price for which we could sell our little basement. That sounds like a good deal!
We’re looking for a sizable plot because we want to grow our own vegetables – preferably permaculture style – and keep some animals, like chickens and goats and bees. We won’t complain if the lot is partially wooded as well.
As for the house, we would like a little bit more living space – 1500 sq.f. would be perfect – because we want one another’s in-laws (isn’t that a nice way of putting it?) to come visit for longer stretches of time. After traversing a wide-open space of at least 1,000 miles, and in most cases 3,000 miles, to visit us, they get cabin-feverish in our cramped and dark quarters. And we relish the thought of having friends, any well-wishers, staying over.
As I wrote in an earlier entry, our daughter Amie plays a large role in this plan. She is forcing us to more thoughtfulness, accountability, and action. Because, one of these days, she is going to ask: Why? And: What did you do? I dread that day, and I dream of it with a passion. And I want to be ready. But most of all, I want her to be ready.
I want Amie to grow up in a more natural environment, one in which she will know what a goat is, and even how to milk it. One in which we can let her run around butt-naked, if she so pleases. And lift a log and marvel at the world underneath.
If she fits into a place that wears life and death on its sleeve: the slow geography of the land, the biology of the tree, the quickness of an insect, the poetry of a field… if she can learn about these through immersion and hands-on, face-to-face encounters… will her understanding of the world and herself be richer? I think so.
If she feels at home in the natural world with its examples of wholesomeness and self-sufficiency, calm and beauty, and occasional disaster… if it makes her aware of her own freedom and responsibility as a human… will she become a kinder, more flexible, happier person? I believe so.
Who will contradict me? (Go ahead, you will only make me stronger.)
Of course, bringing our daughter into nature is a necessary (in my eyes), but not sufficient condition for a child’s happiness. Nature won’t do the parenting for us! But our case of the “nuclear family†is extreme:  Amie has never met our nearest relatives, who live 1000 miles away. We have friends who have her and our best interest at heart, but circumstances conspire against us meeting more often. I guess Amie counts her group at daycare as her “extended family”.
This is not the best that we can do. Especially because, soon, the free and frolicking life of daycare will be replaced by the formal setting of school (I am still considering home-un-schooling, at least part time). I don’t know of any kid who calls his class his “family”.
Can we be it? Two people, the same age and with (more or less) the same interests and routines? Two people who, at the end of the day, would like to rest a bit?
Amie needs more diverse company, a more miscellaneous family. Siblings would be nice (an older sibling especially), but let’s add another layer of community: family and friends who come, not to visit, but to stay and be at home with us. Another layer of wisdom: if grandparents want to put their minds out to graze (i.e., retire), they can do so in our pasture! Another layer of communication: adult conversation, discussion of complex things, mature problem solving. Another layer of character and doing things: all the many different ways in which each of us experiences joy and grief. And another layer of time: the more people in a community, the more time there is between them, for them.
Hence, the bigger house. Not too much bigger: we don’t want to avoid one another! And when there is need for space, there will be outside, in the peace and silence of a garden and a wood.
I believe that, in the future, these two aspects – nature and community – will be essential to survival. I am one of those people who have a grim view of the future, but who also believe that we each have to do our bit to make it a little less grim.
By “grim,” I should add, I don’t mean “poor” in the current sense of no oil, no “freedom” to consume cheap and unhealthy junk, no “leisure” and world-travel, and – my goodness! – the necessity of physical labor! I believe that we can turn all of these “crises” into opportunities for more wholesome lives in a better society. No, my “grim” refers to the fact that the majority of us will not see it that way, that there will be helplessness, chaos, famine and violence due to ill-preparedness and ill-will.
In such an environment, I want to inject some hope, namely my daughter. She can be a teacher of the skills needed to grow food and take care of animals and build shelters and tools, a safe-keeper of the rational will to manage natural resources responsibly, and a model of hard work with enthusiasm, purpose and fulfillment. She can show, by the example of her own life, that life in a “poorer” world can be richer.
I know! That’s a lot. And she’s not yet two. And she may not want to. But I’m going to give her the chance, and the time.
Growing one’s own food, because due to the rise in oil prices as it gets scarcer, most food will be too expensive, and there won’t be enough local food for all – so that will go up in price too. The idea is to grow enough food for ourselves as a family, to build up to more for friends and neighbors, and to lay the foundation for the poosibility of a larger food production, in case more need it. “Enough for all” should be the goal.
Sigh.Â
I wrote about this in May. In fact, that old entry begins exactly like this one! What’s keeping us?
It’s not a risk – I would never call it a risk. Remaining where we are, in place as well as in life: that’s a risk, a sure one.
Sure, there will be times when I will complain about the crops failing, the water bill being higher than expected, that pesky goat… when I may wish it all to kingdom come! But at least those will be particular grievances that I can pinpoint, voice, and then set out to solve. That’s not what I can say about this dulled, vague life, in which our needs and grievances are manufactured by advertisement and “what our neighbor does”.
But I find the entrapment of our conventional lives to be tight-fitting, not easily shaken off: financial security, immigration issues, anxiety about good schooling… And then there is character: if you’re one to always over-prepare, you’re never ready, especially in a situation where you can never be prepared enough… And, oh, let’s not forget that there are two decision-makers (more, if you count the mortgage-people, and the government, etc., but mainly the two of us), and we’re not exactly on the same wavelength, cruising at the same speed…
So we’re working on it. I guess that’s what this blog is turning out to be: a record of our progress or lack thereof, and a public scrutiny to keep us honest.
(another victim of spilled food)
I’m in a quandary. Amie is 22 months old now and eats by herself, with a metal teaspoon and from a small glas bowl – we’ve done away with most of the plastics. She is pretty good at scooping up her food and getting it into her mouth. Still, often some food gets away.
Then it falls on the floor and is wasted.
We’re talking about 1/5 of the dry foods, like pasta shells and rice, and less of her cheerios with milk. She spills almost none of wet foods, like yogurt and pudding, because they stick to the spoon more.
I want to urge her to eat more carefully and spill less, but is she ready, motor-skill-wise? I don’t want to criticize her feeding skills and berate her for wasting food if she is physically not capable yet of doing a better job.
So how – and at what age – did/do you deal with this problem?
I will keep on revisiting Ernestine Huckleby, who in 1969 sat down with her family to a meal of home-raised pork in Alamogordo, New Mexico. The hog had been fed grains that had been treated with the pesticide Panogen, which contained methyl mercury. Two months later, three of the children fell ill. Ernestine, just 9, was by far the worst off.
As icons - warnings against the health threats of mercury and the negligence of big corporations – Ernestine and her family are still alive and well (cf. William’s comment). But Ernestine the child has been forgotten. What happened to her? A search on the internet reveals nothing.
Today I got access to some old articles in the New York Times. I can tell you some of the rest of her story.
The long article “Mercury in Food: a Family Tragedy, a Federal Nightmare,” written by Waldron for the NY Times on 10 August 1970,  mostly deals with the history of the poisoning and the aftermath in government institutions, companies and courts of law. But there is some information about how the children fared, and interviews with their mother and caregivers.
We learn that, soon after exhibiting the symptoms of mercury poisoning, Ernestine complained of feeling sick and pain in her back. As she was taken from doctor to doctor, she got worse quickly, going into convulsions, losing her sight, and ultimately falling into a semi-coma. Then her older siblings, Dorothy Jean and Amos, started showing the same symptoms, and also slipped into comas. They were finally diagnosed with mercury poisoning and treated.
When they ate the meal, Mrs. Huckleby was 7 months pregnant. In March, baby Michael was born. On August 10, when this article was written, the baby still seemed fine.
The article is clear about the two older siblings. Dorothy Jean, who was the least affected, was the first to show signs of improvement, regaining most of her sight and learning again how to walk and speak. Amos too awoke from his coma, and was learning to talk and walk again, but he would never see again.
After informing us that “with Amos and Ernestine, the outlook is not so good”, Ernestine is no longer mentioned.
The article “In 18 Months, Mercury-Poisoned Girl Is Almost Well”, written by Ralph Blumenthal for the NY Times on 6 June, 1971, reports on Dorothy Jean’s almost miraculous recovery. Amos is said still to be confined to a wheelchair and having difficulty speaking. At 14 months, baby Michael, who was thought to be normal at birth, turned out to be blind and severaly mentally retarded.
Ernestine, who was 10 at that time, remained in the hospital, having awakened from a more than year-long coma. She was still blind and unable to move except for rolling over and moving her arms a few inches. Probably it was around this time that the photo of her that heads this entry was taken.
But what was the extent of her brain damage? In other words, was she thinking and feeling? Was she conscious? The article does not say.
Another article informs us that in 1974, Dorothy Jean and Amos were doing very well. Dorothy Jean lived in her own apartment with her 6-year-old son, and had two clerical jobs. Amos lived at home and attended a high school for the blind. He could walk again, though not for long distances, and spoke with difficulty.
Ernestine, we learn, returned home to be cared for by her parents.
Next there is a whole slew of articles on how the case fared in several courts.
The family lost its suit against the Federal Government, for $3.9 million, in August 1974. But they won the $3.6 million lawsuit against three companies, in that they settled out of court in February of 1976, just a few hours after the trial started. The figure of the settlement was never revealed,  except that it was “very generous”.
That’s it! I could find nothing more. Are you as disatisfied as I am?
I’ll keep digging. I believe she deserves our recognition as a person – I was almost going to write, “as a child”, but today she would be 47 years old, if indeed she is still alive.
I published a review of A Handmade Life, by William Coperthwaite, on Suite101.com.
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It took me a long time to write this review, simply because I wanted to do the book justice. And 700 words are not enough to do it justice.
There was, for instance, no space to treat Coperthwaite’s fascinating views on education and childrearing. I will be probably write a separate article on that (UPDATE: did so, you can read it here). Food for thought, definitely, for the home and unschoolers! I did manage to reproduce, at the end of the article, Peter Forbes’ touching photograph on p.109, of Bill carrying a very young child: there is such protection in his stance, and such an outlook for the child…
Neither could I do justice to Coperthwaite’s self-sufficient and sustainable life in nature. I’ll try to devote an article to that too, for the homesteaders!
I still hope you will go and read the review: I did get some things said! There is also some criticism. However unwavering my championship for this book, I couldn’t in all honesty withhold that one reservation…
But most importantly, I hope you will read the book. It was written by a thoughtful and kind man, about lives that are possible for all of us – lives that are for that reason “democratic” in Coperthwaite’s sense. And the photographs by Peter Forbes are simply gorgeous.
It’s time to come clean, lastly, about my “Manifest“:
What do I have to do?
Preserve, not things,
But skills to make things
And skills to make the tools to make things
And the resources to make things
And the skills to preserve these resources
Etc.
Of course Coperthwaite was the one who brought home to me: the need to preserve our skills and tools so we and our children can survive in a difficult future. I am sure I will reflect more and often about A Handmade Life.
Enjoy.
I added an article on Amie’s puzzle skills in the Child’s Play section.
Beside a short history of how Amie approached her jig saw and fit-in puzzles at around age 16-18 months (a history that is perhaps representative of other kids that age), there is also a funny VIDEOÂ of her solving some jig saw puzzles at 18 months of age. Go have a look-see!
