Bring out your dead flesh

I was reading an interesting article in the New York Times today about meat consumption in the United States and the conditions under which meat is produced here. If you've read or even heard of Upton Sinclair's The Jungle, you know that this is not really news. This article focuses on production and consumption rather than the processing of the meat, which is the focus of Sinclair's book. The reason I'm bringing this up, and it's not because I'm a militant vegan (far from it), is because I feel like we don't think enough about where our food comes from and how much of an impact food production has on our world.

As you'll know from my last post, I grew up on a horse farm where we also raised a few cows, a goat, and some geese at various times in my life. I always considered myself attuned to the ways of the farm and to the plight of farmers. A very romantic vision, I know. In order to keep our horses and other animals fed we interacted with different producers (a more high-tech name for farmers) - the grain guy, the hay guy (and occasional gal), the shavings guy (wood shavings=bedding for the horses' stalls) - you get the idea. When I went out into the world, I thought, I know about agriculture and I appreciate where our food comes from and how difficult farming can be, even if I do live in the city. I mean, these guys are at the mercy of mother nature. Can you imagine a crueler mistress? I'm sure you know what's coming now. In 2003, as part of my job in Illinois government, I was assigned to oversee the Agricultural Advisory Council because of my vast knowledge of agriculture. (Insert sarcastic eye gesture here) Really, there were only a few other people in the office with more knowledge than me but they were actual lawyers who did actual lawyer work. So, there I was at the first council meeting feeling all happy surrounded by my fellow farm people, telling everyone that I actually grew up on a horse farm. None of these folks were impressed. For them, horses were something that came with a farm, but they didn't have anything to do with making money on a farm. So what. Horses. Anyway, as the talk moved to crop yields, livestock production contracts, grain elevator failures, next year's profit/loss margins, and other things I couldn't really understand (I do now, mostly) I realized that what I knew about farming wouldn't even amount to a hill of beans, as they say. I was completely humbled and had much more than a hill of beans of respect for these people who are responsible for feeding us.

This brings me back to Mark Bittman's New York Times article. If growing up on a horse farm and interacting with real farmers couldn't make me realize that farming has a profound effect on everything we touch, how could urban and suburban dwellers have any clue about this stuff? Bittman's article brings to light how our ravenous consumption of meat (well, not by me, I mostly eat vegetables with an occasional hamburger or pulled pork sandwich thrown in for good measure) is negatively effecting the environment and our health, not to mention the unsuspecting animals who are injected with antibiotics to fight off the diseases caused by their confinement among thousands of other animals being force fed before they are sent off to slaughter. I understand that we need to eat, but we don't need to eat 200 pounds of meat, fish and poultry per capita per year. That's just crazy! No wonder we are so fat and unhealthy. It's amazing that our arteries don't rebel on a daily basis. According to a study cited in Bittman's article, the production of 2.2 pounds of beef is equal to the "amount of carbon dioxide emitted by the average European car every 155 miles" or it is the same as the energy required to light a 100-watt light bulb for 20 days. So, the moral of the story is we eat too much meat, we don't need nearly the amount of protein that we consume, and we can get all the protein we need from plants. So eat more plants and let the poor cows (and buffalo) roam.

Little Bo Peep Rides the Range

Since this blog is called “observed”, I thought I would start with an observation/memory from my childhood. It was 1985, we had just pulled into the barn driveway on a busy Saturday afternoon and were greeted by a throng of people who seemed to be gaping at some activity. In case you’re wondering, I grew up on a horse ranch about an hour outside of Chicago. We had two barns and about 55 horses that we boarded for other people (including a few of our own). We also had three huge pastures, one with lots of trees and a creek, one with one really excellent tree on the top of the hill that turned this brilliant gold in the autumn, and one with no trees at all. So, back to the story.

My mom and I pulled into the barn driveway and stopped the car to see what all the fuss was about. Before we could even get out, my grandfather had come running up to warn us and to tell my mom that she better take care of this. Through the crowd, we could see what “this” was. In the big pasture with the tree on the hill, we could see Little Bo Peep (yeah, that Little Bo Peep) trotting across the pasture, parasol and all, on a white horse known as Joe. As we got closer, and my mom began to disperse the boarders, we realized that it was Janie dressed as Little Bo Peep being filmed for a music video by Caroline, the former lawyer/musician/barn eccentric.

Now, this might not sound that unusual to you. Maybe you’re thinking, “So what. People shoot music videos all the time and they generally include unusual, theatrical elements”. Well, picture Little Bo Peep as a fit, middle-aged man with a day’s worth of scruff on his face trotting around on an old white horse trying not to fall off or drop his parasol while maintaining the little girl persona of his character. It all seemed normal to me. I mean, weird things happened all the time at that barn. It was one hell of a childhood. Oh, and I should tell you that our musician, Caroline, she was on the order of Phoebe from the show “Friends” but with a raspy, Tom Waits-type voice and a dirty, saggy bohemian look. She also liked to sunbathe in the nude and ride in the forest preserve a la Lady Godiva, except without the long blonde hair or the young, firm body.

As soon as our Lady Godiva saw my mom, she came running over saying loudly in her rough, sing-songy voice, “Hello! You don’t mind if we shoot our video here do you?” My mom, a generally open-minded person, told her to finish it up in a hurry since they were causing a scene and hadn’t even bothered to warn her. Caroline went on to say that they would be done soon, and that wasn’t it so great that Joe was behaving? And didn’t Janie just look fantastic in his outfit? What a great video this would make! And then she proceeded to sing us a few bars of the song so we could get the idea. Mom smiled and rolled her eyes as she walked away. If only I had pictures of all this.

The First Post

Well, here it is. A public space for some of my writing. It's an experiment in progress so please be gentle with your comments. I suppose I could write an extremely long disclaimer that no one would read, but I think I'll skip it. Here's the short version.

While studying for a PhD exam I was inspired by the writing of Truman Capote, and other journalists who write on the border of fiction and nonfiction, to begin recording some of my own observations, thoughts, and ideas for stories. I have no formal creative writing training and very little practice. Most of my experience is in academic writing (and some press releases and newsletters during my former life in politics) so this is a bit of a leap for me, but I thought it was time for me to go public with my life and my writing.

If you have some constructive criticism, praise, or want to contribute positive energy to the conversation, please share. If you like to post comments to bring people down and make yourself feel better, please don't share. Thanks for reading!