I have had writer's block the past few days as I have toyed with thoughts of springtime and the whole idea of gardening. I've struggled with this topic because I kept telling myself that I'm not a gardener; I would only be writing of this topic simply because that's where all the magazines lead us this time of the year. While the communities that surround me are beginning to see the frost come out of the ground, my yard still remains covered in a large blanket of snow at least a few inches thick. It's difficult to get in that same frame of mind since my season here starts much later than in town. Nonetheless, I need to prepare; gathering seeds and looking forward to the results of a great harvest.
Being from the south, it is almost always assumed that I grew up on collard greens and ham hocks, having a great big garden and must be a good cook with thousands of good ol' southern recipes. The truth be known, it was nothing like that. I lived in a neighborhood where I know there were some families that had gardens in their back yard, but I don't recall seeing a lot of them. Perhaps they were there, but as a child, one doesn't pay attention to those kind of things. One of my greatest memories though, is sitting with my best friend Joy on the front steps of her porch crackin' beans and shuckin' corn before we were allowed to ride bikes. Her mother had a huge garden and made the best fried okra of anyone I've ever met since then. Those memories have laid dormant in my mind for many years now.
I use to dream of the day I could have my own garden. I attempted it once out back here, but I put the cart before the horse so to speak. The ground is like pit run here, so I had my husband haul in some dirt for me and began planting everything imaginable. As the plants began to take root, excitement filled my heart as I was finally accomplishing my goal of becoming a gardener. When the tomatoes were ready to be harvested, I was so excited. I rushed to the house to grab a bucket and by the time I returned, my entire garden had been mowed down by one lonely deer that traveled through my yard. There was almost an early harvest of meat in my freezer that year as disappointment and failure sunk in. I had failed to build a perimeter; after all, we do live in deer country! Being the so called "city girl" I was, I never dreamed that animals would come in and steal my harvest! As the deer sat there chewing the final blades of grass that surrounded my tiny piece of heaven, I realized that I was never going to make it as a gardener. Years have passed and what once was a space filled with rich soil is now covered in grass and clover. I look out my window everyday and dream of what "could have been"; if only I could drive a stake in that hard ground.
I've been thinking hard about revisiting the whole gardening thing this year and I must say at first I was apprehensive. I've been contemplating "square foot gardening" mainly because all the research I have done on it shows that it takes less water, less ground, can be done "above" the ground and provides an abundant harvest. Still I need a perimeter. I don't know how to build one by myself and again disappointment fills the air. But at 6:27 this morning, my eyes opened wide; I've been a gardener all along; year round!
I believe that my purpose in life is not about how much money I can make. While I need it desperately to make ends meet, I don't think I was put on this earth to be a twenty year career woman with a great pension, 401K, IRA and all the trimmings. It's been disappointing at times, but I now can come to peace with it. I now realize, I've been planting seeds all along; reaching out and sharing what I've learned with others in the hope of a great harvest; that they might learn something new; open their hearts and minds to something different; to set a perimeter in their life; boundaries. It really takes less energy to watch it come to fruition and when done in smaller bits, produces great reward just as a square foot garden.
The world lacks a perimeter. With today's new technology, the deregulation of rules and values; churches falling apart and war, there are no longer boundaries in place; anything goes and look at where we are. Fighting with those we love; fighting over land, animals, the earth; food; religion. It doesn't have to be. Become a year round gardener. Determine what it is that you want harvest; build a perimeter to protect it; sow your seeds everyday; year round and I promise, your harvest will be plentiful.
Have you ever been really hungry? Many would answer "no", but I bet you have. We tend to think of the word "hungry" only in relation to food. So for those that have never truly experienced hunger in that sense, it's difficult to relate and one goes about their life. It's only when they see a picture of someone with tattered clothes, a five day shadow on their face or a woman standing with a rag muffin child that society turns and say "oh, sad". Then for a moment, they rush a few cans of food to the local food bank or better yet, make a drop off at the grocery store because they don't even know where the food bank is located. That's alright, at least they made an effort and any help is greatly appreciated. One in eight Americans suffer everyday from the lack of food and many go without several meals a day; even days. What many don't realize is that the local food banks are set up as "emergency food assistance". They do great wonders with the donations they receive, but it is not enough.
The definition of hunger goes beyond food; it means discomfort; weakness; a strong desire. So again, have you ever been hungry? Chances are you have. Hunger is like a dirty diamond in the rough; it has many facets; each that shine brilliantly when the cloudiness is washed away. It's a matter of how we choose to look at it.
Sixteen years ago, I didn't look much different than the picture I have here on the blog. Maybe a few less wrinkles and better eyesight, but physically, not too different. I dressed pretty much the same. I think it is fair to say that my looks are not a fair assessment of what one would think as being a "hungry" person; one of discomfort; weakness; but perhaps a strong desire.
When I divorced my first husband, while it was my choice, I had not thought beyond how I would make ends meet with two small boys. I only knew that I wanted to be on my own and soon I found myself sitting at a Salvation Army with a boy tucked tight under each arm. By nightfall, I would have no place to go, no place to sleep and no vehicle. I moved to Montana because I had been here for a few visits and knew this would be a good, safe place to raise my boys. I just failed to have a plan. It was one of the worst times of my life and I had created it. Suddenly, complete strangers picked me up by my broken wings and took over. I can't even recall how I got from one place to the next; they literally were like angels carrying me. By nightfall, I was sitting in a little furnished studio apartment; groceries were on the kitchen table; milk was in the fridge and a lady said she would stop by in the morning to help me arrange day care so I could work; and my rent was paid up for about a month through a group called Neighbors in Need. It happened so fast I never got to say thank you.
While my story is not one of hunger for food, I had a strong desire; a hunger to make things right in my life; to get back on track. I was only down on my luck as many would say. I was starving for help as so many do today. Discomfort and weakness come in many forms and with today's recession, we are seeing it more and more. We were not prepared for a recession; we didn't have a plan. Rarely does one live by the rules of society that say we should have a three month emergency savings tucked away and it is times like these that we become hungry; unfortunately even a hunger for money. The lack of money can create a hunger beyond all others. It controls us; our relationships; what we do on a day to basis and even our food supply. We finally submit and ask for help. It's what we do from that point on that determines our success.
I survived my short lived discomfort and weakness through the help of others and by holding my head high in difficult times. I found a job and was fortunate to have a boss that would pick me up everyday for work, drop my boys off at day care and bring me home. Over time, I was able to get an apartment and bought a Radio Flyer wagon for transportation. The boys would ride in the wagon and when I had groceries, they walked beside me. I had slowly began my road to independence, barely paying my rent and living in somewhat of an empty apartment. I was so proud the day I bought a car for $125! Ran like a charm; well, kinda. I loaded up the boys and drove almost to Glacier Park out of sheer joy, but then turned around out of fear I would get lost. Little did I know at the time that the Park was only another mile down the road. A few months later I met the love of my life and have been with him ever since. Yes, he was truly an answer to my prayers and has raised my two boys as his own. Together we have a beautiful daughter.
A few years later after receiving my degree in Human Services (imagine that), I returned to the local food bank; this time as a paid Volunteer Coordinator. I soon realized that their efforts are simply not enough. Food banks are set up as "emergency assistance". A person was allowed twelve visits per year. That could be monthly, weekly, etc. When their visits were exhausted, they had to find alternative resources and often times there were none. During their visits, they were permitted one pound of meat; one pound in the form of either burger, lunch meat, bacon, etc. and ten pounds of food per family member. That's it. Many did not know what to make of the food that was provided and it ended up going unused. They were permitted, however, to visit daily for bread, doughnuts and other danishes that were not healthy for them; still it was food. It bothered me that at one time, I walked in their shoes, but I never saw how it all came together as the food bank and other agencies came to me. My needs were met and my situation truly was "emergency assistance". However, many rely on their services daily all over the nation. This is the hunger we as a society relate to and there are many ways we can help through volunteering with local agencies; donating to food banks; working with community supported agricultural programs, etc.
With all the joy and comfort I now have in my life, my hunger has never gone away. It is no longer a discomfort or weakness, but a strong desire to help others. Not only with their own lives, but to help them understand others who are down on their luck; hungry. My hunger is the strong desire to motivate others to get dressed even when there's nothing to do; let them know that it's alright to ask for help regardless of their status in the community; to tell them to fake it with a smile until things turn around; to encourage them to turn that discomfort and weakness into a healthy hunger; to help others have a strong desire to knock the dirt off that diamond and shine. What are you hungry for?
I had never been around any other race of people before other than Mexicans in Colorado. To me, blacks didn't count since I was from the south and grew up around them; they never seemed different other than the foods they liked and they lived in others areas than me. So when I moved here, I told my husband "boy, there sure are a lot of Mexicans, I wouldn't think they would like it up here where it gets so cold". That was when I realized just how naive I really was; they were Blackfeet, Sioux and Assiniboine Indians and there was an Indian Reservation just other side of the mountains; not to mention several other tribes throughout the state! My husband has taught me a lot about the Indians and how they think and live as he had lived among many when working in the oil fields. They were simply something I only knew about through history books. I never took the time to understand them or appreciate them beyond that.
Today, there are thirteen different tribes throughout the state; eleven are original that go back prior to Montana becoming a state. Alcohol abuse is a serious issue on many of these reservations and sadly, is most often times the focus of any main stream media. Rare are stories told of the good people there. Clearly there is still segregation of sorts when one speaks of the Indian aka the Native American; depending on where you live and who you talk to. While the nation did away with segregation of blacks throughout the fifties and sixties, there was a new beginning for them as they attempted to integrate into the so called "norms of society". Native Americans, on the other hand, were simply put out on the plains over a hundred years ago and given reservations they could call home; clearly there is a certain amount of segregation that continues to exist today; wanted or unwanted, it is still clearly divided. Don't get me wrong, according to many white men; they have been well taken care of ever since with government funding, programs, housing and schools. That is a controversial topic and not the direction of my post here today. But I feel it is important to share with you a story that might otherwise never be told of one of their people that has touched my heart in a roundabout way. It is important that they are not forgotten and others know there are beautiful and good people among them just as in our own communities.
Lenny Boxer was a young Indian man from Fort Kipp, Montana who came to know my husband back in the oil boom days of the late seventies and early eighties. My husband Scott is a blond haired, blue eyed Norwegian farm boy, just so you know. Scott had worked his way up from the lowest man on the job, the "worm" to working derricks, the man at the tip top of the oil rig that pulled pipe out of the ground and the right hand man of the driller. Lenny had seen Scott a few times on another rig and would always ask Scott to come and work for him. Embarrassed, Scott would laugh and explain how he couldn't leave his driller like that. So one day, Lenny showed up and yelled to Scott that he had talked his driller in to trading for Scott. That was the beginning of a wonderful relationship between these two men that would last forever.
Scott ended up being the only white man on his crew and when the shift was over and the guys headed to town for a cold one, he stuck out like a sore thumb against all theses dark skinned men. Lenny would turn and say, "no worries Scott, they won't mess with you when you're with me" and he was right. The Indians had a great respect for Lenny. He was a stout man and could hold his own when it came to a rowdy bunch of young Indians. He would sit and cry as he spoke of his time in the military over a beer or two and Scott would laugh in disbelief at his stories; thinking "yeah right". But in his heart, he liked Lenny so well, he wanted to believe him.
Lenny was a family man and family meant everything to him. He even raised his oldest daughter on the rigs teaching her every step of the way. Soon his next youngest daughter joined his crew and each work side by side holding their own just as the other men on the crew. They were his babies. Scott soon joined his extended family in a way as Lenny became his surrogate father away from home; always looking out for him, making sure he had a place to stay, etc. Whatever Scott needed, he could rely on Lenny to always be there ready to help. His kind spirit and eminent stature among his own people carried over in his work. Together they traveled throughout eastern Montana and North Dakota setting up, drilling and tearing down rig after rig.
The oil boom crashed in the early eighties and Scott's oil field days came to an end. He moved to the western part of the Montana to pursue a new life and Lenny stayed behind with his girls drilling on smaller rigs throughout the plains. Over the years, Lenny would pop in to town and call Scott. Their reunion, if only for short periods, kept them close at heart. I had the opportunity to meet Lenny as we traveled to eastern Montana and found an oil rig off in the distance. Being so close to Lenny's hometown, Scott just knew Lenny would be working on it. As we arrived, all one could see were three smiling faces as we approached the platform. There stood Lenny and his two daughters working away. While they couldn't stop to visit, their smiles spoke volumes as Scott introduced me. Their visit was cut short as we had to leave the platform for safety reasons, so they quickly tried to set a time and a place to see one another later that evening and smiled and waved good bye. We never did meet up with them due to one thing or another, but we were both content by the looks on their faces that their love for Scott was so genuine; so deep.
A couple years passed only to bring the news of Lenny's death through a phone call via an old friend from the oil days. Lenny had learned that he had cancer and within three months was gone from this world forever. It happened so fast and the family moved on. By the time Scott had learned about it, two years had passed. All of our visits to eastern Montana, driving past his old place on the highway, thinking he was working somewhere; Lenny laid buried in the field beside his home at Ft.Kipp beneath an American flag flying over him.
I recently thought of Lenny as he has become an regular part of Scott's storytelling over the years. I began researching the internet to see if I could find a photo of him to share with my husband. They never took photos of one another. My search brought me to his obituary that spoke of his military career as a Untied States Marine and medals he had received. I looked up each medal to learn their meanings and I shared them with my husband. As his heart swelled with pride, he suddenly realized that the man he had once know was a hero; a brave and noble Indian. He was everything that Scott so desperately had wanted to believe. Lenny had once shown Scott scars that he said he had received in battle and Scott, being a young kid, would laugh at him over a beer joking that he probably got stabbed by one of his own people. As it turns out, Lenny was a decorated Vietnam War veteran. He received two purple hearts, a Navy Commendation Medal, Presidential Commendation Ribbon with a Bronze Star and a Vietnam Service Medal with a Silver Star. He was a tribal board member for the Fort Peck Indian Reservation for several years.
Lenny has always been a common name in our home as we have raised our children over the years. It's as if they know him in some way. They know that he was dear to their father's heart. His old war stories have more meaning today than ever now and his spirit will live on through our grandchildren one day. While I never really knew him, I am forever grateful that I had the opportunity to meet someone who could touch another person's life so beautifully; someone from another culture than our own who took a kid under his wing and taught him many lessons about life over their time together; about cultural differences; about true friendship. I hope one day to find a picture of Lenny to share with you as I create a new page of inspiring faces on my blog.
I hope that if someone comes across your life that touches your heart or inspires you, that you recognize them; that you pay tribute to them. Let the world know who they are or who they were. Share your stories.
With recession comes great things, if we open our hearts and minds. Everyday people in our nation hold a gift for us waiting to be seen, instead we turn our heads. Now, Haiti has given our nation the same gift, but will we see it this time?
Let me ask you, is it more appealing to watch one that is physically attractive or the man in the suit who drives a BMW fail than one who is less attractive, rides the bus or chooses to wear blue jeans and a t-shirt everyday?
I wish there were a news channel made up of "everyday people". You know, those we like to call the "blue collar workers". A smiling steel worker, reporting on the side for extra money, sitting on a stoup with a man who just lost his home; a woman who volunteers at a local soup kitchen happily reporting how the numbers were down today; an interview of a deceivingly sharp looking business woman who actually rides the bus to work from the ghetto and makes $7.25 an hour cooking $25 a plate meals and goes home and cries every night because she still can't come up with enough money for the electric bill. News of the small farming community that had a parade at midnight due to flight delays for troops arriving home so they knew they were appreciated. These are the everyday people of our nation. They come in all sizes, shapes and beauty just like Corporate America. Some are educated, some not. There is crime and corruption in their world, too. Get the picture? It just doesn't sound as exciting does it?
Instead we find ourselves turning on the news to watch how Corporate America is broke. I'm talking about Wall Street, large cap private financial gurus and the overpaid people of our nation. Stories of those losing their homes; being laid off from $125 thousand dollar a year jobs; selling second and third homes and finally tapping in to their 401k's and IRA's to simply make ends meet. Their bank accounts have dwindled in to the thousands. No doubt that their world has been rocked. On their way to work, they grab their cappuccino; stop at the dry cleaners; on to the day care to drop off little Billy and Susie; have lunch with their colleagues; then stop at the take and bake on the way home to grab pizza for dinner and back out the door for drinks at the open house around the corner. A life of luxuries and envy that every man and woman have thought about at least once in their lives; or not. But as the market crashed, their lives entered into a tailspin; not knowing how to face what lies ahead. They have relied on the rest of America to care for their every need and now cannot do for themselves. Their lessons are right in front of them if they could only see beyond the veil.
These corporate gurus are being served by "everyday people"; everyday. You see, everyday people start their day the night before. They lie awake til three in the morning thinking about what the new day will bring. They track the calendar in their mind wondering if they forgot to pay that bill on the fifteenth; or was it the tenth? As they start the new day, they dig around the house for loose change so they have the exact amount for the bus or their kids lunch money. If they have time and the luxury of a computer at home, they rush to check their bank account before they leave to see if they need to make a deposit before two o'clock rolls around. They arrive at work on time to be greeted by demanding customers who don't even know their name. No matter how nice they look, how determined they are, they continue to struggle, but they manage. The cliche' "it takes money to make money" rings loud in their minds. If only someone would recognize their talent and pull them from the wreckage. When the lay offs come, they go in to overdrive in an effort to keep what little they have; taking second jobs and even moving in with family members to save wherever they can. At the end of the day, some return to their modest homes with only the bare necessities to make a good meal for the night. If there were a window to their soul, you would see that there lies character and gratitude behind their blank stare as their children greet them at the door and make it all worth while. Their core values of love, family and doing whatever it takes pull them through the worst of times.
There are various definitions of hardship just as there is a significant difference between the daily lives of those working in Corporate America and everyday people; the service industry of America. Some may have a couple thousand in the bank and say they are broke while others are truly living in the negative day after day. The news reports that times are getting better and unemployment is decreasing, but some towns across America are still seeing unemployment rates of ten and twelve percent. These differences in lifestyles should no longer seem to be important as they enter the unemployment lines from both sides, yet sadly they will never become one. The corporate world hasn't hit rock bottom yet. They have not yet experienced what true hardship really means. While the "everyday people" of this country struggle daily to make ends meets, they are survivors. They live in survival mode each day of their lives. They may lack the knowledge or resources to rise up, but they are rich with character and gratitude; with a love and commitment to God and family like no other; they believe in helping others no matter the cost because it is the right thing to do, they believe in sharing and pooling their resources to make things happen. Times like this are not the place for thinking only of ones self.
The disaster in Haiti, as sad it has been, has many lessons waiting to be learned as well. There is no longer a hierarchy of sorts, all have become one; equal. Oh, there is still government in place although it has taken back seat to the crisis at hand. Together they unite to sing songs of praise never questioning God, their purpose in life, or mourning for their possessions that are now lost; grateful to be alive. They quickly pull together as one; with a common goal of rising up from the rubble. Material things do not matter. Their loved ones are gone forever. Disease walks the streets and death surrounds them still. The rains will soon come. Despite everything they have lost, they quickly create organization with what remains; immediately grabbing whatever food, water and shelter they can find; helping their neighbors; creating a leader for each block to be responsible for whatever was needed in their self-created communities; and still, they smile. Their graceful character and gratitude speaks volumes.
America will always remain a diversified country, no doubt. Just as the everyday people of our nation, Haiti has given the world a gift if we would only open our hearts and minds and see it this time. Whether it is the result of poor financial decisions, being taken advantage of, greed, generational welfare, you name it, pulling together in these difficult times is what America needs. There are wonderful lessons to be learned when one is truly down on their luck. It builds beautiful people just as we have seen in Haiti. While everyday people in America may not receive the recognition they deserve for their services, they are the force that keeps our nation strong. They are some of the most beautiful and richest in character of all our nation. Appreciate them; learn from them; ask them what their name is; listen.
Do you ever lie in bed at night, especially in the dead of winter, close your eyes and just as you begin to fall into that ever relaxed state, you are jolted by the sound of flies buzzing all around? You turn the light on; take a look around, nothing. With the lights off, your attempt to return to that peaceful state is interrupted once again. Frustrated, you get up and behind the curtain, lurking in the corner of the window, find it, smash it and go back to bed. It's only a matter of minutes before it seems as though a colony has moved into the attic above in retaliation and the buzzing sound becomes overwhelming. Sound familiar? Perhaps not, but flies in the attic can refer to much more in our lives.
There are two types of flies; infesting and invading. The infesting flies complete their life cycle indoors where they can find favorable spots to breed. While invading flies breed and develop outdoors, they tend to drop in occasionally to simply wreak havoc; well, not really. Just as these pesky little critters can drive one crazy in the middle of the night, there are other flies in the attic; those conversations in our minds that we can't seem to tune out in an effort to get a good nights sleep; our job (or the lack of); bills; kids; money; things we have done and the things we have left undone. Over time our minds become infested with so much “stuff” and just when we think we’ve got it all resolved in our heads to turn over and go to sleep, something else pops in our minds and adds to the frustration. We are left staring at the ceiling with our heart rate ready to go through the roof. These, my friend, are flies in the attic and unless you find a remedy, they will continue to breed and some will drop by only to aggravate the buzz and send us in to overdrive.
There’s no doubt that with the recession comes stress. No matter what the income level, many are experiencing additional stress such as cut backs at work, unemployment, and the rising costs of fuel and groceries to name a few. Some of these are daily concerns for many but can be exacerbated when there is a crisis at hand. Suddenly people come down with flu-like symptoms at the worst possible time and just as the outdoor fly dropping by, the stress level rises and productivity decreases.
Locating a remedy to the flies in our attic is as simple as Integrated Pest Management (IPM); identifying what is causing this infestation and creating your own IPM techniques. It puts you in control of the situation faster, unlike the unsuccessful quick fix remedy of smashing the one fly and returning to bed only to deal with another shortly afterward. Just as flies continue to breed and will never go away; our daily stresses will always be there, too. By creating your own IPM, you can create a simple, long term and ongoing three-step plan that will help you accomplish the ultimate goal: managing flies in the attic.
Sanitation
Don't let fruit rot in your garden! Harvest everything and remove all decaying material on a regular basis. When applied to flies, it sounds pretty simple, doesn't it? Good health and cleanliness is important. Eat foods that are good for you and stay with you during the day and eliminate those that are bad. Don’t let life pile up on you. The flies in your attic are clutter that creates stress and chances are if they are invading your mind, they are invading your everyday life and your health as well.
With cleanliness comes great pride, relaxation, new found ways to save money at times and organization; therefore a reduction of stress. This isn't about worrying how others see you; it's about taking care of yourself and reducing your stress to a manageable state. By creating some simple habits, you can manage the flies in the attic
Inspection
If you can identify what is attracting the flies,half the battle is won! Some surveys show that less than 10% of the population in this country is clutter free. It drains us of energy, time, and money and causes disease. Take a quick assessment of what is causing all this clutter in your life. Is it procrastination, laziness, feelings of being overwhelmed? One example is your wallet or your purse; better yet, your car. Dump it all out and look inside at receipts and see where you have spent money on unnecessary things, look at the amount of energy it took to get things to its current state and how much time and energy it is going to take to get it all back in order. We all lose things; keys, our coat, the other shoe. As a result we spend more time trying to find it than we did placing it where it didn't belong in the first place. Everyone has a "catch all" place in their home; a kitchen counter; a desk; dresser, etc. Take a quick assessment of all that is there and what you put off as a "when I can get around to it". It doesn't take long to become overwhelmed and embarrassed by what you have created and the down hill spiral begins. You know in the back of your mind that you should deal with it and yet go to bed not being able to turn it off.
Exclusion
Weather-strip your mind! Keep a tight screen! Get rid of the "un-necessaries”! While we can't prevent all thoughts from entering our minds in our efforts of a good night's sleep, there are ways to reduce them. Just as having a screen prevent flies from entering, creating that same screen in your mind is helpful. Assess the task at hand and screen the information. Ask yourself if there is anything you can do at that very moment to fix it. If not, determine if it is worth jotting down a note and dealing with in the morning or if it simply needs to be thrown out; rotten information (or fruit) not worth keeping. It is important to keep a tight screen. When a fly senses a temperature difference, it finds its way in and the invasion begins. A screen is a filter. It still allows for smaller and more manageable thoughts, yet keeps the overwhelming from entering.
New flies will come and some will go with time; it’s inevitable. There’s no sure fix to flies in the attic. If we wipe out as much of the rotten fruit in our gardens as we can on a regular basis in one good swat and set the bait outside our door for the pesky invaders that aren’t welcome, we can become successful IPM entrepreneurs!
Did you know there's a difference between farming and ranching? Some of you might, but I know many like myself at one time, who take that for granted. Farming is actually cultivating and harvesting and ranching is raising livestock like sheep, cattle, etc. Of course, you'd never admit that you didn't know, believe me, I understand. Did you know that Montana is one of the largest wheat producers in the country and roughly 30% of that production feeds Russia and parts of Europe? Me either. My husband grew up farming and ranching both in a VERY small town in eastern Montana, population of maybe 40 now; graduating high school class of nine, I think. His great grandfather homesteaded there almost one hundred years ago and ran a mercantile store in addition to farming and ranching; something one just doesn't hear of growing up in the city. While the farm is still in operation today, it's a struggle to break even.
The expenses involved in large farming and ranching operations today to maintain quality production barely makes it worth their while. But it's the quality of life that keeps some hanging on; the core values and the old belief of working together as a family and a community to get things done; being self sufficient as well as the pride that comes with knowing they are needed by the rest of the nation. But as their children get older and with all the new technology today, traditional nights of watching basketball games and attending community events in some of these small towns become a thing of the past. The children move on to college and the city life; never to return other than for a short visit. Businesses slowly start closing their doors after fifty to a hundred years of surviving droughts, recessions and plain hard times. As the older generations enter into their final days in the local nursing homes, old homesteads are abandoned and the mice settle in.
Farming and ranching communities are dying all across America primarily due to a lack of interest from these younger generations. Market pressures and low prices are forcing some out of business as well while others are slowly being bought out for recreational property by big time investors who want to put conservation easements on millions of acres; promising long term leases and then terminating the lease over time; slowly putting the farmers and ranchers out of business altogether. Massive sized turbines cover the landscape now as far as the eye can see with big money leases in place. Don't get me wrong, I am all for alternative energy. But there must be a balance.
This past week as the winter storms hit the Washington, DC area, I received a call from my son stationed there with the Marine Corps. His first words to his dad were "oh my gosh dad, you would think the end of the world was here" as he spoke of his journey through town to buy a quart of orange juice in the nine largest metropolitan area of the United States. People panicked as the word of a winter storm hit the news. Shelves were suddenly depleted of the basic foods; milk, eggs, bread, and meat. Rooms filled quick at the local hotels as people feared getting stuck in their cars. Power outages reached from the metropolitan area as far as Virginia for up to thirty hours in some places. Another storm hit today.
America has become too dependent; relying on others for even our basic needs. When we want something, we expect it to be there when we decide to go and get it. We are taught at an early age the life skills necessary to skate through life; checkbook management; how to pay bills; a basic understanding of history, etc. and failed in teaching self-sufficiency. We are a spoiled society having everything at our fingertips at a moments notice. When it comes to a leak in the plumbing, a car breaking down, having no power, no heat and the possibility of our food running out, we panic. I'm not saying that everyone should rush out and become masters of all trades, but there must be balance.
Small scale farming and ranching is becoming more and more popular across the country as society sees the rising cost of food with no end in sight for a recovering economy. Self-sufficiency is empowering and goes hand in hand with sustainability. By learning how to do for ourselves, we can maintain even in rough economical times. The balance between these and the new wave of promoting alternative energy in the way of oil, gas, wind energy and land conservation is teetering toward the latter. Without our farming and ranching, we deplete our food source not to mention the impact on the rest of the world. Even for those that choose to hunt wild animals in an effort to feed their families, restrictions have become so tight in some areas that even they are unsuccessful in providing an alternative food source for their family.
Sustainability means to support; to maintain; to endure. We must find a healthy balance; working toward the common goal of giving back to the earth what at times must be taken in order to survive. Especially when it goes beyond survival for unnecessary luxuries.
The "friendly" in "eco-friendly" becomes "not so friendly" when the pendulum swings too far to one side or the other. Judgments are cast on both sides thinking one is better than the other; better yet, right or wrong. In order for there to be harmony in this effort, one must earn respect for the other side and be open to learning and understanding and set judgment and stereotypes aside. These extreme attitudes leave us stagnant at a time of when our nation is most vulnerable to fail.
Some fear being frugal as becoming a "Thrifstorian" as my daughter calls it. They envision second hand clothes, buying day old bread, and discontinued items. Frugal living is simply living within your means; it's about your "needs" vs. your "wants". There is no rule that you can't have the things you "want" in life, but it requires focusing on your needs first, then wants. Sounds like common sense, right? So why do we all manage to live beyond our means? Why do we have credit card debt? Why are we insurance poor? I plan to throw some ideas and resources out there for you to consider "in the event" you should ever need them.
For me, it all started shortly after becoming unemployed. I suddenly realized that I had to start making things stretch. Food in the pantry was disappearing before my eyes with no check coming in to replace it all. Every time I turned around, one of the kids was hitting me up for money to go somewhere; clothes; pictures; field trips, etc. And of course, getting winter tires, the oil changed, my annual mammogram (with no insurance) hit all at once as well. My husband is a builder and at the time, we were building a spec house for ourselves, so no income there at the time either (it's for sale by the way).
Where did all that money go? The truth is, we all, no matter what our income level is, big or small, have the tendency to live beyond our means. Of course you already know that; it's a cliche used everyday in this world and so easily ignored...until reality hits. The good news is there are ways to get back on your feet and I hope to share some of them with you.
I saw it coming and failed to prepare for it while I had money rolling in. The company I worked for was slowly taking on more debt than it had income at the time and the crash of the construction industry only exacerbated it. You see, this isn't the "big city", no corporate paychecks here with 401Ks, medical benefits, etc. Maybe a few, but not enough to mention. Oh wait, they did manage to get a Simple IRA a few months before I was laid off, so I guess there's a whopping thousand bucks out there! But I did manage to make some of the best money around this valley. While I am grateful for that, my last paycheck stretched only so far and then the waiting game for unemployment to kick in seemed like eternity. But I refused to go down without a fight; no way was I going to hit rock bottom, whatever that was.
We are a proud society never wanting anyone to think we're struggling. Even if you have a good job right now and feel this isn't for you, read on because job security is never certain. If you're self employed, consider yourself "unemployed" every morning you wake up. You constantly have to wonder where your next client/customer will come from; thinking of new ways to market yourself in an effort to build relationships and therefore, client retention. So while you may not feel you need this information yourself (I hope you never do), perhaps you know someone who could benefit and will share this blog with them.
Sustainable living has been around forever, it simply has a name now. Another term is the "green movement". But what I have noticed is that it has become stereotyped. For those that want to do good and leave a smaller footprint on the land, we have a tendency to call them "greenies" or "granolas". Therefore, if we feel we do not fit into those categories in our everyday life, we resist our temptations to get involved; fearful that we may become "one of them"; that we must dress and act differently; or that we must jump in and transform all of our bad habits at once and "go green". Notice that I say "we" because I have definitely been on the outside looking in at this topic. Because it is such a broad topic, one questions where to begin.
It's not a matter of getting caught up in the politics, it's a matter of finding what works for you and working toward a common goal of leaving things better for future generations.
Let's face it, we have the capability, the knowledge and the resources to be more self sufficient in this country. But it takes more than engineers to make it happen. By finding what works for each of us in our daily lives, we can work toward the common goal of sustainability. Who is to be the judge as to how much or how little, making an effort is all that matters.
Join me as I explore sustainable living and find where you can make a difference.
No, I haven't lost my mind and yes there's still snow on the ground here in Montana. Half of the east coast is being pounded with more snow as I write. But I noticed that my Vitamin D was not doing it's job these past few days and my Peri menopausal state of mind got me to thinking...flowers! I went to town to visit my friend Shelli, who you will soon meet, to have tea and when I left there, I had nothing to do. I have been so overwhelmed lately with bad news, I simply did not want to go back home. So I drove all the way in to town simply to look at flowers, or so I thought.
I had this idea in mind that I would go to the garden center and look at flowers to cheer me up. I thought surely they would have some indoors. As I ventured inside this massive building just waiting for that welcoming fragrance to hit me, suddenly the nasty aroma of fertilizer hit me square in the face. As I looked around at the empty shelves, boxes on the floor with new product waiting to be unwrapped, disappointment set in. The closest thing to a "flower" I got were some little tiny bulbs in a bucket of dirt just ever so slightly beginning to bloom. They looked so lonely that I almost bought one just so I could look like I actually came in for a reason. I wondered around for a moment as though I was on a mission and as soon as the clerk went around the corner, I made a mad dash out the door. How silly I must have looked! I mean EVERYONE knows there's no flowers in February at a garden center! Why didn't I think of a florist? After all Valentine's Day is coming up. As I jumped back in my vehicle, it dawned on me. The simple thought of flowers excited me so much in the dead of winter that I drove twenty miles just to look at them. While I was disappointed at first, I could have gone on to a florist, but I didn't. Instead I went home...still thinking of those imaginary flowers.
Flowers have a way of moving us. They can be exciting, refreshing, relaxing and make you happy all at the same time. You don't have to wait for a special occasion like Valentine's Day to come along and cheer you up when it's twenty below outside. Then it hit me.
Flowering Tea! Grab a chair and sit a spell while you experience the beauty of teas that bloom as you brew. It's a bundle of dried tea leaves and flowers that are bound together with cotton string. When they are steeped, the tea is released and the flower begins to bloom before your eyes. The nice thing about flowering teas, or "blooming teas" as some may call it, is that their mild flavors do not seem to be affected by longer steeping. The flowers usually will last up to fifteen minutes and can be refreshed simply by adding more water.
So who says you can't have flowers in the dead of winter! Remember to take time for yourself, slow down and appreciate the finer things in life! Now pardon me, my tea is waiting.
Oh you know who I'm talking about. Matter of fact, they entered your mind just as soon as you read it. We all are guilty of procrastinating when calling that one person for whatever reason. I'm not talking about a long lost love from the past or opening Pandora's box, I'm talking about someone who has touched your life in some way that perhaps that they might be unaware. We all have good intentions or simply think of the old cliche "oh, they know how I feel" or "yeah, some day"and put it off a little longer. We as a society have become somewhat desensitized by the use of computers and simplifying the whole thing by opting to send an email. But nothing beats a good old phone call, believe me. It's not only more personal, but the joy you will find in your own heart by simply calling someone out of the blue. Letting them know how special they are or how they touched your life at one time or another could be the one thing they needed to hear that day. It may enlighten them to know that they had made a difference in the life of another.
Over the past sixteen years, I have tried my best to contact those who have touched my own life. At first I thought it was a silly thing to do, but it has been so rewarding that I am committed to inspiring others to do the same. It isn't about always staying in touch, but rather an effort to reach out; never looking for something in return.
One of my first calls was to my old pastor in Tennessee. I was not a real "Sunday go to meetin' girl", but I did attend fairly regularly with my best friend when I was young. I don't recall any special sermon he gave, but he put up with me, that's for sure. I was a young girl from a divorced family in a time that divorce was frowned upon more than today. My best friend and her family made certain that if they went, I went. I recall my friend running upstairs in my room many times on Sunday and saying "c'mon, momma and daddy are waiting, hurry up" as she was pulling clothes out of my drawers. I think I must have wanted to be noticed or something when I was little. It never failed that every Sunday (at least it seemed) the congregation would sing "Just As I Am". The pastor would allow those who felt they needed forgiveness of their sins to come forward. Well, you would have thought I was the worst sinner in the world! That song would make me cry and up to the front I would go; every Sunday! Couldn't even tell you why, but there I was, receiving forgiveness of all my sins. Looking back, I think it was simply having something consistent in my life that was good, really good. I'd like to think Pastor Chevalier knew that and made a special effort to always reach out to me. But you see, I don't think he did it intentionally. I think he was just that way to everyone he knew.
So one day, while sitting here in Montana, I decided to look up the number for Pastor Chevalier and give him a ring. I had not seen nor talked to him in probably twenty five years, I bet, and oh did he remember me. I could here the wonder in his voice as to the purpose of my call. I didn't even know myself what I was going to say, so I opened my mouth and out it came; "I just wanted to thank you for making a difference in my life. You taught me to keep God at the center of my life and I am forever grateful". We continued to chat for a while and hung up. I never gave it another thought, but I felt so good inside. About a month later, my best friend called and said she had a story to share. Her father still goes to that church and while our pastor had since retired, he had been called back to preach one Sunday. Then she says "and Daddy said he talked about YOU!" Pastor Chevalier had proceeded to talk to the elders in the congregation about a young girl that many might recall named Susie (my old nickname) and that he received a call from her out of the blue. He mentioned our conversation and his message to them was to never give up on the younger generation even when they don't feel they are making a difference, because they are. I never expected that in in return, but I am glad that I followed my heart and called him. Pastor Chevalier has since passed and I am blessed to have known him.
Today, my husband received a phone call much to his surprise. You see, my husband worked in oil fields during the big boom back in the late seventies and early eighties. He has shared many stories from those days and spoke of people that he worked and lived with. A few of those people have always stood out in his storytelling. Recently, I started researching their names in attempt to find some of them for his upcoming birthday on Valentine's Day. One was a guy who pulled up looking for a job in a little VW bug, torn tennis shoes and the clothes on his back. As he would laugh, he would claim how this guy taught him to be frugal. He spoke of how they lived together and one time decided to go grocery shopping together. My husband liked blowing his big paychecks and eating good, but this guy told him he was going to show him how to "save money". They ended up buying bologna and bread and just the bare essentials. To this day, my husband swears he thought he was going to starve to death! Funny how he has never forgotten him and thought so much of this guy for many reasons. Well, I found him living in Minnesota and doing very well. As I write, I can hear my husband's laughter as they talk on the phone for the first time in almost thirty years; something an email or a letter just could not replace.
These are just a few examples of the joy I have found in a simple phone call. Who knows if they will stay in touch, I hope so. But it isn't about that. It's all about reaching out to someone. It's about knowing in your heart that you can mark that off of your list of things to do and smile. But beware, you will find you're not only doing it for yourself, but helping others do the same. The rewards are as simple as a "thank you", but they will live within you forever. It doesn't have to be someone from long, long ago, you know who they are.
I hope you will call them. .
We are never prepared for it....especially when it is someone dear to our hearts Some avoid talking about it thinking that it will simply go away or fear that if they do talk about it, it will happen. But it is inevitable; certain. Some have yet to personally experience such an event in their life, while others have experienced more than their share. One never becomes desensitized; it's painful. We grieve not only for ourselves, but for those that have passed and the ones left behind who are also grieving. So how do we reach a "comfortable" place within ourselves to talk about it? How do we prepare ourselves for such an event? The following are a few brief stories of my most recent experiences with death and dying and an opportunity for you to find your own comfort level about this topic. If you're still not ready, no need to worry, it will be here for you to return to. I have put together a few things that I hope will help reduce your own anxieties when faced with death.
Over the past few months, I have experienced a distant family member, now in their final stages of life, battle cancer. I have watched them transition from a healthy and vibrant person to a weak and frail being who struggles between letting go of the here and now and making the transition to another life beyond and how it has affected their family members as well as myself. Just a few days ago, I almost lost my brother to a what I later learned was a bleeding ulcer and waited anxiously by the phone for hours expecting the worst, but was blessed to learn that he was given another lease on life. I also attended a funeral for someone I once knew. Her death was unexpected and a tragedy at that. I had not seen or spoke to her in quite some time, but I had no regrets or sadness for myself. In the past, whenever we said goodbye to one another, she would always say "see ya later Marilyn", with an upbeat Scandinavian tone; taking for granted that there would always come another day when we would reunite again. I felt that same way as I said my goodbyes to her yesterday as it did not seem final, just a transition in her life. Of course, my heart filled with sadness for her two children as I watched them fade in and out of reality; numb to their surroundings. While each of these situations were entirely different, for the first time in my life, I stepped outside myself and remained objective and observed my feelings, emotions as well as those around me. I took it all in as a lesson to be learned; one that I could share with others in hope that may better prepare themselves for such an event.
There will never be a "comfortable time" to talk about death, especially our own, as I myself have avoided it for many years now. But through my observations over the past few months, I feel it is the "right time". When I was in college in my thirties, I learned of Swiss psychiatrist and internationally renowned author Elizabeth Kubler-Ross. She was one of the pioneers of what is now known as Hospice and the 1969 author of "Death and Dying". Little did I know that her name would stick with me for many years to come. Not because I paid attention, of course, but rather that she wrote a book about the most uncomfortable thing imaginable and now here I find myself referring back to her! I'm not a huge fan on the topic and I can't say I have ever fully read anything she's ever written. I simply tucked her name away in my "book of knowledge" as a reference for that "rainy day" so to speak and here we are.
Hospice vs Home Health Care
It is only natural that when a person (caregiver) is faced with a loved one that has been diagnosed with a terminal illness or is dying as a result of a tragic accident, they become emotionally involved and tend think they know what's best for them. How in the world could a total stranger walk in to their life and possibly have a clue as to how to care for them like they do? So they roll our sleeves up and settle in. For a while, the patient may remain self sufficient and able to do for them self, however over time they become more and more dependent on the caregiver. What they fail to realize is that they become so emotionally involved that suddenly they are faced with being alone; day in and day out. They find it difficult to allow someone else to come in for one reason or another; guilt that they couldn't do it all; pride; a lack of knowledge; insurance; the list goes on. Suddenly they are faced with unforeseen tasks; getting them in and out of a wheelchair; helping them to the bathroom; picking them up when they fall; changing bed linens possibly with them in the bed; and/or then the regular routinely chores around the house. By not seeking the help they and their loved one so desperately need at this stage, they risk injury to both; improper movement and/or the lack of; bed sores; back injuries; broken hips, etc. Understanding the difference between Hospice and Home Health Care services is important.
Hospice focuses on patient comfort; pain and symptom management and support services for the patient and their family members such as counseling and education; understanding that the patient and their family's social, emotional and spiritual needs will increase as death becomes closer. Their job is to keep your loved one comfortable and make sure that as they become more dependent that they are not alone; the most common fear of many people is dying alone. Keep in mind that no antibiotics are given at this stage. If you request them, Hospice will not be able to continue their services. This can be difficult when often times pneumonia sets in. However if a patient goes in to remission, they would be no longer eligible for Hospice and begin aggressive therapy. Pain medications, medical equipment and supplies are a covered expense with Hospice as well. Home Health Care on the other hand focuses on rehabilitation of the patient and requires that the patient be home bound and qualifies for medical equipment and supplies such as commodes, walkers, wheelchairs, etc. Neither of these services provide housekeepers as many people tend to think, however some may have volunteers available to help with household chores.
Understanding and Respecting the Cycles of Grief
The cycles of grief apply to so many areas in our lives apart from death and we can generally bounce back pretty quick. But the grief of losing someone, especially unexpected, can be devastating. Getting stuck in a cycle without any progression toward the final stage of acceptance, can lead lead to serious consequences at times. I feel it is important to visually see the cycles of grief and understand that one may bounce back and forth between some stages and may or may not be at the same stage as you. Most importantly is the ability to recognize the stage that you and others are in, respect one another and help one another take steps in reaching that final stage of acceptance. It is not a time for casting judgment. Below is a list of the stages and a graph of the Kubler-Ross cycle:
Shock Stage: Initial paralysis at hearing the bad news
Denial Stage: Trying to avoid the inevitable
Anger Stage: Frustrated outpouring of bottled-up emotion.
Bargaining Stage: Seeking in vain for a way out.
Depression Stage: Final realization of the inevitable.
Testing Stage: Seeking realistic solutions.
Acceptance Stage: Finally finding the way forward.
Letting Go
It sounds so final. The one who is dying struggles just as much as you do. It's a transition for them; letting go of the here and now and moving on to another life. Many talk about it in their final moments; seeing those they love and places they have only been in their minds. For those of us left to pick up the pieces, it's difficult to let go for our own reasons. We become sad for our own loss and wonder how will we go on without them. But often times they need our permission to pass. The most difficult thing for us to do is give someone permission to die. Sounds silly, but in reality, it is often what is needed for them to move on. When you can bring yourself to be OK with letting go for their sake, it is a relief like no other and you can feel good about celebrating their life; knowing that they are ready and you have given them their wish rather than putting yourself first. It's only natural that we do, but how wonderful when we can reverse it and give them our blessing. Don't look at it as a closure, but rather a new beginning; a time for you to take their best qualities and make them your own so that they may live on in your heart forever. Know that it's OK to let go and that you will do just fine.
Preparing for Your Own Death
Although it is certain, our time is uncertain. Preparing for your own death may seem to be the more difficult task to face. Why would you want to place the burden of wondering what your wishes were or were not onto someone else? The best piece of advice I can give you is to start by writing down what you don't want. We don't always know what we want, but we certainly can come up with things we don't! It could be as simple as playing sad music. Writing letters can often be helpful as well rather than leaving it on the shoulders of someone else to relay. Give the letters to a designated person to hold in a safety deposit box in the event of your demise.
Financial guru Suze Orman has a Protection Portfolio that is very easy to use and inexpensive. It is written in layman's terms, therefore no need for a dictionary; she provides all of the terminology for you. I highly recommend visiting the site at https://www.suzeorman.com/index.cfm. It provides all the information you need and is a proactive means of making sure that your wishes are carried out. I have no affiliation with the site and do not receive any kick back for mentioning her site. It is simply a recommended tool.
Death is certain. To many, it is a transition from the life cycle to the unknown. I do believe that there is life beyond and I am comforted by that. Oh, I will still grieve for those I have lost and those to come. This is only a small part of understanding and becoming comfortable with death and I hope you will no longer be afraid to talk about it, that you realize that it is OK to talk about it, and research on your own in an effort to reduce your fears and/or anxieties in the future. Communicating your feelings and writing them down is extremely helpful. Share those feelings with others so that they might understand you better when such an event takes place.
It is difficult to accept death in this society because it is unfamiliar. In spite of the fact that it happens all the time, we never see it. ~Elisabeth Kubler-Ross~
The world lacks a perimeter. With today's new technology, the deregulation of rules and values; churches falling apart and war, there are no longer boundaries in place; anything goes and look at where we are. Fighting with those we love; fighting over land, animals, the earth; food; religion. It doesn't have to be. Become a year round gardener. Determine what it is that you want harvest; build a perimeter to protect it; sow your seeds everyday; year round and I promise, your harvest will be plentiful.
Grab a chair and sit a spell while you experience the beauty of teas that bloom as you brew. It's a bundle of dried tea leaves and flowers that are bound together with cotton string. When they are steeped, the tea is released and the flower begins to bloom before your eyes. The nice thing about flowering teas, or "blooming teas" as some may call it, is that their mild flavors do not seem to be affected by longer steeping. The flowers usually will last up to fifteen minutes and can be refreshed simply by adding more water.
