Folding

Anyone who plays poker has gotten a bad hand from time to time. The deal doesn’t always go your way, so you through in your cards. Hope for better luck and a shot at the pot next time.

The idea of folding—cutting your losses—applies well beyond card games. This summer, it came home to roost on the blueberry farm. The kind of drought that only hits once or twice a century settled into central Illinois for 2012. Well, really it started last year. Anyhow, after consulting with various luminaries in the horticultural sciences, I’ve learned plants are pretty big fans of water and are known to get down right mopey when they don’t get it. Add in the slightly less obvious consequences of an early spring and somewhat late frost as well as severe pruning; you get a recipe for sad sack blueberry bushes. 

The weather turned warm early in the northern Corn Belt this year. I remember doing survey work in late January through mid-February, driving around with the windows down and the scent of spring wafting on the breeze. Might have even noted that observation one too many times to keep my survey partner interested. Point is, the thaw and heat wake up plants that lie dormant over winter—like blueberry bushes, for example. Alone, it might just have meant an early season for the berries, maybe a better chance to beat Michigan to the markets—most berries come out of Michigan, wicked cheap. Put a semi-late frost into the mix, and you still get an early season but one with far less fruit. When the bushes wake up, they start to flower. Pollen attracts bees, which fly around, helping the bushes make sweet, sweet love to each other. The stomach of each blossom that gets knocked up during such spring time promiscuity gradually turns from an innie to an outtie, rolling back the base of its petals till they make the distinctive little crown worn by blueberries. Freezing temperatures kill the flowers before they can see their little ones grow. So it was this year. Many a blossoming young maiden fell to the patch floor, never knowing the touch of a bumblebee or the joy of motherhood. 

Now, it may seem morbid to talk about the plants in terms of mothers and children. But pour the sweat of your brow and strength of your back into caring for living, growing things and see if they don’t start to feel like family. Maybe I’m just strange. Maybe you wouldn’t get the same sentiment. Or maybe I’m not too out there, and you just might be moved to see the life cycle playing out, aided by your hands. Also possible your hands might do less clearly helpful things. Blueberry bushes like to be pruned, especially old ones. It can rejuvenate a patch to whack it back after years of neglect. However, that means fewer branches, branches that would have made blossoms. Take away the possibility of flowers, then have a frost kill a bunch of what did grow, and top it all off with an unrelenting drought… well, the result is a pretty trying time for a berry family, or (tying it back to the start) a real shit hand in the game of blueberry farming. 

It’s not just the berry farmers taking a hit this year, either. Droughts are hard on all growers. That’s part of life in agriculture. Some years are plentiful, some are not. An established farm can often handle those kinds of ups and downs. It gets more precarious when you extend yourself, take out a loan, arrange a lease, start a new venture. It’s sweet when you jump into an immediately lucrative situation, less so when it starts off rocky. The latter is what went down for my employer this season. It’s got him skittish, worried about his finances and family well-being. Though he’s already anted up—on the lease, the labor, all that jazz—to keep paying interns would be like raising the stakes. Sometimes that’s alright, when your hand is good enough. Sometimes it’s less attractive, like when your possible straight dissolved into naught. The blueberries are done for the year, our small gardens not nearly productive or lucrative enough to justify transportation and employee costs. Thus, my boss is folding, which means I’m out a job. 

In a couple days, I’ll be headed to Boise for the remainder of the summer, until Labor Day (does that count as ironic?), when I start the journey to Pennsylvania for my next job. Leaving things unfinished isn’t my favorite pastime, nor is mooching off my folks. Yet, I’m grateful to be able to spend some time in my hometown, see friends and family, get ready for the upcoming year. I’ll miss tending to and seeing the growth of our gardens. So many plants are just coming into fruit and ripening: pumpkins, squashes, zucchinis, beans, tomatoes, cucumbers, amaranth, watermelon. It’s disappointing to think of them going uncared for, drying up and dying, or going to waste. Things don’t always work out like you plan, the old cliché goes. Hopefully the next deal finds me with better cards and a shot at the pot.

Farm Pics

Check out Dignity Farms facebook page to see photos from the farm! Click it!

Thinking one step ahead

I've just barely kicked off the summer of farm interning, and it's been grand so far. Yet, it's too short to get real comfortable and put off planning for the next thing. Not sure if you do much backpacking, but it's kind of like hiking in at the beginning of a trip, not having already decided which site you'll camp at. Stomping up the mountain towards the lakes, there'll be signs along the way telling you names of and distances to the lakes. My buddy Nick and I will often chat about which lake to go to along the way, dissecting the names, how long it'll take, and then which forks in the path look most interesting. Well, right now, I can see the next fork coming and needed to start deciding which way to go. Turns out, it's east.

I'm really enjoying farm work and craving more experience. But more so, I want to connect the work to people, especially kids and folks who could particularly benefit from getting in touch with the soil. There are so many options out there for farming, for community work, outdoors conservation or education, and so on. It can be kind of tough to narrow it down. Wasn't the case for me. I thought, 'how about AmeriCorps?' First time I browsed environmental positions I saw this place in Pennsylvania, Kimberton Hills. It's community living, centered on sustainable agriculture and takes extra measures to fully incorporate persons with developmental disabilities. Right up my alley.

I applied through AmeriCorps, and the place sent along a supplemental application. The end of the supplemental part asked for an autobiography. Never seen that before, and it was a cool way to really think about why I'm taking this fork. Here's what I wrote:

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Please write a brief autobiography, written in a narrative rather than a vitae format indicating significant experiences that have shaped who you are. Use this space to tell us important information that has not been sufficiently addressed in the application.

A friend just asked me this morning what’s led to my interest in farming. As I reflected on that, the foundation was clearly my family’s connection to the outdoors, time spent in natural settings and being taught about our responsibilities as stewards of those spaces. Throughout my childhood, we spent countless days camping, backpacking, hiking, fishing, canoeing, crabbing, boating, walking the Oregon Coast beaches, picnicking in local parks, skiing, and more. Backpacking was the real core of it all, though. Taking to the mountains—bringing no more than we could carry—instilled in me a deep and lasting love for just being in the natural environment.

Yet, I was a bit aimless in younger years, lacking personal direction. ‘The Path’ had been well laid out for me: do well in high school, so you get into a good college, so you get a good education and land a good job, so you’ll have what you need. It seemed straightforward enough for me, even if being somewhat less than inspiring. I’d been raised well enough to be able to get through an undergraduate degree on little more than an interest in my fields of study (sociology and psychology) and some vague ideas about what I might want to pursue later on.

After graduation, I idled around Portland, Oregon for a year and a half, working a couple jobs and enjoying time with friends and in the wilderness. It wasn’t enough, though. I wanted to build myself up, take on something challenging and aimed at benefiting someone or something other than just me. And I wanted to get out of the U.S. The avenue I found was Master’s International, a joint graduate program between the Peace Corps and about four-dozen cooperating universities. A year of course work and two years of Peace Corps, ending with an MA and some amazing life experience—sounded excellent to me.

Illinois State University offered the only sociology program at the time I was applying, which made the decision of where to go pretty easy. I knew Portland wasn’t a good spot for me to be, though, while putting together my application materials. Life was too cushy there, too self-centered, and my work wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as I needed—outdoor store. A move was in order, as was new employment. I headed back to my hometown: Boise, Idaho. My folks took me in once more, and I found work with S.L. Start, one of the jobs I described above. Also helped coached my high school’s men’s lacrosse team, and over the course of about a year I submitted applications and was accepted to ISU as well as nominated for Peace Corps service.

For the 2008-2009 school year, I took courses in sociology and economics with a programmatic focus on community development and a personal focus on environmental sociology. Each course brought new and interesting ideas to my attention, but it was a spring seminar on the U.S. and international agri-food systems that really rocked my world. The whole year’s study on the relationship between humanity and the natural environment and the process of development coalesced in that course. Innumerable connections formed between food production, distribution, social justice, community health, environmental sustainability and so much of my personal philosophy on Life and relationships. By the end of coursework, I was convinced food was foundational to almost all aspects of community development and ecosystem sustainability.

The two years spent in Micronesia only strengthened my perception of the inseparability of food, community and justice. A major driving force in choosing to do the Master’s International program had been to discern where my future labors lay, and I knew I’d done just that. Growing food in ways that could nourish not only people, but also full communities and the land became my goal. How to actually accomplish that… well, I’m still working on it. What I do know is that I need some real experience to go with the theory. So I signed on for an internship this summer with a local, organic farm in central Illinois. I’m also doing some traveling (writing from northern Michigan, right now, where I’ve been helping out on another farm and visiting friends), seeing other approaches to farming. The goal is to get a solid foundation in actually growing food and increasing my familiarity and capacity in working with the Earth.

From this summer, the next step is to get into community-centered agriculture, find a place and people who take a holistic approach to farming. I want to see and be a part of an intentional effort to bring together the planet, growing food, building community and sharing Life. I’m committed learning how to incorporate that effort into my future work as well as simply spending more time farming. To live the farm life for at least a full year, experience the seasons and what each brings. To see animals and vegetation and people and economics all brought together into one place and one design: that’s what I want. Camphill at Kimberton Hills does that in a way few other places I’ve found manage, and wonderfully, there’s an opportunity to join in.

Team Chuuk Music Video

While in Chicago, Team Chuuk put on a clinic for the Windy City residents. Watch the awesome. Watch it.

Chuuk Kids

A thought

I'm nearly finished at Illinois State University and will soon move to a small blueberry farm with two great friends from my time in Micronesia. So much excitement fills me when I think about the months ahead. Yet, I know they'll be short months, and something needs to come after. With that in mind, I've started poking around, contemplating where I'll go next and what I'll do there. AmeriCorps is standing out to me, so I put together an application and asked around for references. One of the people I contacted was a Peace Corps staffer who I got to know during my service. She was willing to do that for me, and shockingly quickly. In her response to my request Janeen said a couple things that got me reflecting, and here's what came out:

"Janeen,
Thank you so much for filling out and submitting that reference. And so quickly! I really appreciate your time and willingness to help. I consumed more than my fair share of both during the final months of my service, which just makes it that much kinder for you to extend yourself on my behalf now. Thank you.

In case you're interested, a link for the position I've applied to is below. I've no doubt it will be wildly different than Peace Corps, and amazing in its own right. This job is at an intentional living community, populated by families, young and old, and adults with developmental disabilities. Really an integrated place, though I'd suspect the people there might be somewhat homogeneous in terms of perspectives, politics, etc. Sustainable agriculture and interwoven labor, community, craft and celebration of Life are core values, which no doubt sounds pretty crunchy but also an absolutely delightful place to spend a year or two. They have 'volunteer' opportunities available for farm apprentices too, outside of AmeriCorps that I'll probably apply for. Will definitely let you know if they offer me a position.

https://my.americorps.gov/mp/listing/viewListing.do?id=5000

The U.S. has certainly looked and felt different since coming back. Nuance. My perspective was profoundly infused with nuance. There are more blemishes and more sore spots, but they're thrown into contrast by greater depths of beauty and appreciation. I love my home more and more honestly than I did before, but I also take it to task more often and more honestly. I think you're right when you say, 'maybe you can never go back.' The person who flew out of L.A. in September 2009 isn't the same guy who left Micronesia in August 2011, and that's the difference. You can never really go back, not because home is any different or isn't there, but because the person who left home isn't here anymore, not fully. And it's precisely a result of that 'tremendous and irreplaceable' gift received during Peace Corps: Life. I've more Life in me, more humanity, and brought more of both back to the States. Some of it is hard and wearisome, but mostly it's invigorating, joyful and driving. I'm grateful for that, filled with gratitude for the people of Woleai, Houk, Yap, Chuuk and Pohnpei, gratitude for Peace Corps, for you and all the shoali Peace Corps lani faliuwashe (people of Peace Corps in our islands).

That's pretty gushy, sorry. I got into a reflective moment after reading your email. It elicited some thoughts that have been swirling around for a few months now, and just coalesced in the response. I'll keep it more levelheaded in the future.

Thank you again, Janeen,
Be well,
Porter"

Photo Essay: Working Dignity Farms

This summer I'll be working on a small blueberry farm in the rural township of Pembroke, Illinois. Yesterday I was able to go out to the farm and do some tranplanting to clean up the rows of bushes. Also did some odds and ends around the farm of the guy I'll be working for. Here are some snap shots from the day.

An accomplishment

In February of 2007, I learned of a program called Master's International (MI), a combination of Peace Corps and graduate school. My friend Amy was looking at it for nursing, thought I might be interested too. Seeing as those were the only two ideas I had for my next step--and the desire to do each of them was preventing me from pursuing either first--MI sounded like the universe had just gift wrapped my upcoming three years and express mailed them to Portland. I got on the vast and mighty inter-tubes to check out the possible programs. There were about four dozens schools with a variety of degrees at that time, one of which was in sociology: Illinois State University. Normal, eh? Community and economic development? Okay.

I went to dust off the Peace Corps application I'd been working on, only to not remember the password... or user name... or where to access it. So instead, a fresh start. Of the myriad components needed, I tore through all but the following: two short answer/reflection questions for Peace Corps, GRE and statement of purpose for ISU, references for both. In other words, I did all the simple stuff, and fell short on all the real work. My job at the time had picked up, the GRE seemed too important to rush through, and I resigned myself to putting off the next step until the Spring semester 2008, rather than starting Fall '07.

I got a second job in March, working at an outdoor store with one of my best and oldest friends, Nick. Needless to say, the great joy it brought me to work and kick it with him in Portland wasn't the strongest motivation in the world for getting my apps together. I had till October, I figured, what's the rush? Besides, that daunting acronym test was still hanging out there, threatening to uncover the sham of my intelligence. Can they take away your BA if you bomb the GRE? Wouldn't surprise me. Nonetheless, I started tapping people to find references. The more people in on my scheme, the more likely I'd be to realize it. Talking with a friend from home, Nicole, I suddenly thought of what my plan meant a bit more tangibly than 'most badass, life changing experience.' It meant three years away from family and friends.

Considering my plan, the facts of my life in Portland and the people I needed to spend more time with, I resolved to push back the application one more semester, start Fall '08, and move back to Boise for a spell beforehand. Now this all reads--and probably seemed back then--as telltale signs that I'd never actually apply. Yet, even at the time, I knew it was going to happen. From the moment I heard of MI, it was a foregone conclusion I'd find myself at a grad school and eventually in Peace Corps. To facilitate that trek, to spend time with family, and to break away from a stagnant professional life into something more fulfilling, I moved to Boise just before Thanksgiving. Life was too comfortable in Portland, if you can understand that. It was too easy, too fun, too selfish. Friends all over town, beautiful natural spaces to hike and play in, phenomenal bars and breweries, amazing roommates, easy job steadily outfitting me for any outdoor adventure I could imagine, excellent arts and culture scene, growing sense of identity as a Portandia native. I had to tear myself from that first, if I was ever going to be able to push myself into a task so much more intense. As my Peace Corps recruiter would eventually tell me, "You need to divorce yourself from your life."

Leaving Portland hurt. Leaving half my heart was hard. Fortunately, I was back in Boise, where the other half dwelt. I enjoyed the holidays with family and friends, and came to terms with that departure, recommitting to the path I'd started down. Along the way, I knew my wisdom teeth needed to go. After Thanksgiving, that's just what happened. Then I needed a job, which I landed after Christmas, for a place called S.L. Start, working with a few gents in their home. Kevin, Greg and Rick are three high-functioning, bright, funny and delightfully quirky men. They happen to have an array of cognitive and physical disabilities, but with a little help they more than get by. I got to step in and provide that help from 7am till 3pm, six days a week for several months. I also got to help my buddy Blake coach our high school lacrosse team. That had me going from 7am till 6pm Monday through Friday, lacrosse games on Saturday from morning till afternoon (also on some week nights, lasting on till 7 or 8pm), and back to the guys' house on Sunday for another 7-3pm. I still found plenty of time to be see friends, visit my grandparents, hang with my folks. And along the way I studied for and took the GRE, filled out my apps in full, and got references in. Interviews for both Peace Corps and ISU came and went, feeling more like chats with friends than probing interrogations (Larry Badger and Beverly Beyer's great interview skills should be thanked for that). Just prior to an evening game against Eagle High, I received the call saying I'd been accepted to the Stevenson Center at ISU for a master's in sociology. A week prior I'd been cleared to start on my medical/dental/legal clearances for Peace Corps. Days came and went, till August saw my pops and I road trip to Normal, taking the northern route through Montana to Michigan, then down to Chicago and on to Normal.

Already close, Pops and I bonded even more as the miles ticked passed. We played cribbage, sipped beers, slept in the bed of his pickup at rest stops, floored it through North Dakota's barren eastern landscape, found the camp ground where my grandfather worked with the CCC (Bob Lake on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan), visited the family farm in Onekama and did some repairs for the folks living there, visited my buddy Max in Chicago and finally rolled into the sleepy little Normal. Normal is a college town, through and through, and very quiet in the summer. My apartment was bare, to put it mildly, with naught but our sleeping pads and a footlocker for furniture. We wandered around, watched a couple movies, drank some beers, and then it was time for Pops to get back to Boise. It was the first time I really felt the absence of family, after he left, but there were things to get done before the semester started, so I was busy enough before long. The real work began when course syllabi were passed out.

The word 'fail' following 'you will' came up a few too many times on the syllabus for Social Theory to prevent thoughts of running straight to Peace Corps. Such thoughts never translated into action, other than doubling down on my studies, though. I was fortunate to be a part of a Stevenson Center cohort filled with motivated and bright badasses with a wealth of experiences. Whether in class or a bar, someone's house or out for a bite, the conversations I had with them were engaging and insightful. I learned as much through discussing development, statistics, theory and Life with my classmates as I did through the courses. The fall semester closed out with an onslaught of papers and projects, seventeen hour days of reading and writing, and finally, a big ole party at Joe's. The director of our program even came. It rocked, and the spring brought on more of the same, but was far easier to manage. Peace Corps invited me to serve in Micronesia, I completed and had approved a thesis proposal, and spent the summer traveling, saying good-byes before boarding the early flight to L.A. on September 2nd, 2009--my dad's birthday--starting the three day venture to Pohnpei, Micronesia.

The two years of island life held so much, it's hard to distill down. The first thousand or so pages of this blog can testify to my inability in that arena. Suffice it to say, my time in Peace Corps was full of Life in its many different manifestations. I succeeded a little, failed a lot, laughed and cried and raged more than ever, loved, and grew more fully human. By August 2011, I had a wholly new understanding of the world and my place within it. My priorities had shifted, and I knew better the kind of wandering I was going to do from that point on, and why, than any time prior. Part of that meant coming back to Illinois, finishing what I started and closing this chapter.

I was offered a research assistantship for the full school year, to help me cover costs while preparing and conducting a new thesis project, and ultimately accepted it. Having planned on spending the fall in Boise, this was a major change but definitely the right one. Having direction was clutch throughout this 'readjustment' process. Coming home after two years in another country and culture is no easy feat. Lack of purpose can be a real pitfall for returned volunteers. Taking on the U.S., adapting to life here, being thrown into the professional development field for the first time as an active member, needing to find and learn a new thesis topic, all while confronting the mental/emotional issues stemming from service and return was challenging. Is that an understatement? Maybe, but I think it's enough. Point is, the whole point of the post, this past Friday (April 13th, 2012) I turned in a thesis draft for the 'right to defend.' All indications at this point are that I'll be sitting down with the committee to defend my thesis in a couple of weeks. During the interim, I'll finish up my work for a regional planning commission, reporting on the surveys I did for them. Afterwards, maybe some editing, definitely a couple solid days of formatting, then I print two final copies of the thesis to turn into the graduate school for binding. I'll have come to the end of my time as a Master's International student. Peace Corps and graduate school, Micronesia and Illinois State University will be parts of my past and, yet, permanent additions to who I am. As this end approaches, I truly see the past four years as an accomplishment, one not lessened for all the failures along the way, one I can build upon, one so inextricably tied to those who befriended and supported me along the way, one I can be proud of.

Team Chuuk in Chicago!