I grew up on a dirt road at the end of which was an old-growth wood of many hundreds of acres. It bordered what is called Contraband Bayou. I have written before of this wood and Jean Lafitte, the pirate rumored to have buried his loot among the cypresses. I hunted those woods, fished those waters, was a boy along those banks, in that place. Today, like all the area surrounding, it is concrete pavement illuminated by halogen lights, a Walmart, a Super Target, a casino or two, budget and luxury hotels, homes built on every conceivable patch and lot. It is an absent landscape.
For those of you still advocating for eternal growth and progress, I pose these questions: What is your secret to finding beauty in what we have achieved? Does your heart flutter at more shopping opportunities and a new strip mall? Are the woods and bayous and rivers an obstacle to your betterment? Do you see productive agricultural land along the highway as an opportunity for a solar farm of concrete and silicon and metal? When you see a pastured hill or a majestic stand of hardwoods, do you calculate only the fill dirt or the timber that can be sold from it. Is your heart unmoved by the leveled and the dead? If so, then I will tell you that you are the enemy.
Last year, when the world came to a stop — when the skies were empty of travel, when the wheels of commerce slowed, when seagoing vessels with the latest fashions from sweatshops rusted at their piers for lack of workers — tell me that you didn’t catch the smallest flicker of hope for a better and more sane world. If not, then you are the enemy.
In that year, when you had your hands in the dirt for the first time in your life, when the first tomato was ripe and sliced in your salad, when the sweet corn you grew was roasting on the grill, when the chicken you raised had been butchered and fried for Sunday dinner, tell me that in your secret treasure chest of desires you longed instead to be in Myrtle Beach or Pigeon Forge playing putt-putt or standing in line at the all-you-can-eat buffet with tens of thousands of your kin. Tell me that and I’ll tell you that you are the enemy.
For the news writer who penned these words: “Right now, the mega site is just an empty landscape. While there’s still a long way to go before business is up and running, it’s a springboard for growth at Red Stag and in Sweetwater” — do you sincerely believe that the pristine 400-acre property next to the interstate is really improved by becoming an Amazon-like distribution center? If so, I’ll say once more, You are the enemy. You would sacrifice 300-year-old oaks and countless wildlife for 10 to 20 years of economic activity.
Tell me that you find an absent landscape of pavement and metal buildings beautiful. Then give me your address; someone wants to know.
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R.I.P. Diane Di Prima
I’m not that old, only 67, and the landscape of my youth has been gone a very long time. I can barely stand to think about it, it brings me to tears. And aren’t you sick and tired of hearing about “progress”, the true religion of many in this country of ours? But as a people, we seem to fear nature, what else can it be? As the old growth woods of your childhood and mine also, in the state of Washington, are gone is indeed a sin and a great tragedy. Thank you, Brian, for writing this post today.
I think ‘fear of nature’ is close, Heather, to the problem. And it may be a bit of just plain unfamiliarity with nature, as well. For many, nature is something out there, in a National Park. It is never close in, something they could observe around the corner. Maybe that is why “they” don’t think of the costs and what we lose?
Brian,
I think it comes down to the question, “When is enough, enough?” Capitalism assumes that resources are to be exploited for the benefit of the general populace. In reality, the vast majority of the benefits accrue to a very limited few and the rest are left holding the bag for the negative aspects of “progress”.
My own little farming community used to support an amazing number of small dairy farms, now nearly all gone, replaced by mega-factories with thousands of cows. Along with a huge manure problem. Hundreds of independent family businesses replaced by one operation, buried in debt and a mountain of manure. Progress? I don’t think so.
You have witnessed that change close up, Don. I think the past year might accelerate that move. The larger corporate entities have emerged with a stronger hand. The small business has struggled, lost market share, gone away. Surely there must be a change in this drift.
I suspect that we are all our own enemies — or at least those of us who have invested in the stock market, hoping for good returns in our 401k or IRA. Perhaps those desires encourage us to vote for politicians who serve such interests as well. I can think of several in my own family (well, the majority, come to think of it) for whom this is true. All of them would decry the loss of such areas just as you and I do though.
Well that is the conundrum for each of us. The machine/Matrix keeps us close and well fed. It is hard to bite the hand that feeds. You and I have both made that effort, feeble as it is, to break away. I always come back to explaining what I do as an effort to preserve the muscle memory of an alternative. We shall see in the end.
Then there seems to exist a kind of hope that needs to be crushed.
The hope that one can accumulate the kind of wealth that future generations won’t be experiencing, and then retire.
Once that hope is gone, with the objects of glass and steel we are so invested in losing their ability to generate the kind of surplus we’re craving, we’ll be seeing more clearly (not a pleasant feeling).
As luck would have it, there are different ways in which this destruction of hope might happen in the near future.
And the good things is that once that happens, there is no going back for a good long while.
The next shopping mall size buildings will one day be temples again.
“The next shopping mall size buildings will one day be temples again.” Brilliant, Michael. Welcome back.
Beautiful! Eloquent as always. My Mom sold our family farm and I have found it harder to deal with then I thought possible. I miss the comfort of knowing “home” was just a short drive away. My only comfort has been the knowledge that the new owners love it as much as I do, and in knowing my Grandfather would be pleased in seeing the beauty restored in those acres.
Angela,
Well that must be some consolation. Think how much worse it would be to drive by the old place as part of the expanding Atlanta?
Brian
I am so thankful the new owners have no plans of development. I hope it stays that way.
AMEN! I agree WHOLEHEARTEDLY❣️
I riffed off your post, linked it in, and created one of my own. Given as those are my comments to your thoughtful post, I’ll post the URL here:
https://agrarianslament.blogspot.com/2021/06/an-agrarian-rage.html
Tomorrow, when I generally try to post on agricultural topics, I’ll link that into my main blog.
I’d simply add here that my entire life my aspirations have been limited to wanting to be a basic agrarian stockman. Now at my current age its never going to happen the way I’d hoped. Its the single biggest failing of my life. Part of that is that I’ve watched as land went from barely affordable, to completely unaffordable, and from productive to playground.
I don’t say much to people about it. One of the sad things is that is that there really aren’t many people you can talk to about it. You are providing the best public forum for that.
Pat,
Thanks for the kind comments and the thoughtful post over at Agrarian’s Lament. You more than likely are already reading over at the Front Porch Republic? If not they are home for some of the best writing on similar topics, including distributism.
Reading your post, I have witnessed the equivalent of the ranchette up and down our valley. The result is always the same, denuded pastures, a skinny horse, a divorce, then wash and repeat cycle, except next time with mini goats or donkeys. God, these people love a miniature donkey.
My best,
Brian