Time is so funny.
We spend time relaxing with friends, sitting at home stuck indoors, learning new things about ourselves and the world around us, and on occasion doing truly constructive projects.
Where does it go?
I've noticed that with age time seems to fly by even faster. In elementary school time was measured by those coveted holiday vacations and dreaded school tests. Time stood still between Thanksgiving and Christmas as me and my sister waited to receive the presents we'd been asking for all year. During summer breaks time flew by while we played at the lake or struggled with adult emotions at summer camp.
In college time evened out and stayed at a steady speed for a while. I enjoyed the ride. There was so much to soak in and learn, both in and out of the classroom. The years went by filled with new ways of thinking, new people to discover, languages to learn and cultures to explore. The steady speed of time helped me to find out who I was, or a piece of who I am.
But, the last few years time has become extremely sporadic. One second I am throwing myself into projects I love, completely forgetting about time. The next minute I'm back on my couch struggling with the really difficult questions of time that everyone asks themselves as they grow up. Should I go back to school? Can I get a good job? Am I making the most of the time I have?
Time is the one consistent. No matter what else happens in life, time is the one thing that is guaranteed to keep speeding, walking... bumbling ahead. All we can do is try to make what we have count in the short blip we have in the relatively infinite time of the universe.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Long Winters
What is a season... What constitutes spring, summer, fall or winter?
It can't be summer if there's still snow on the ground and it's cold... or can it?
And certainly if it's winter there can't be 100 degrees of heat outside...unless you live in the southern hemisphere...
Seasons are relative, and locational. To be honest, I think seasons are more feelings then the changes in the world around us. Take for example, this winter in Seattle. It is unusually snowy here in the city. For most Satellites the city in the winter is a gray, drizzly, rainy place. When it snows city dwellers hide in their homes, shut down their businesses, and run to REI for down coats while they wait to see if the snow goes away. What happens when the snow doesn't disappear you might ask... nothing good. The feelings associated with snow here are much different then the feelings I have as a long time east coaster, from a state where snow sticks on the ground for almost half the year!
So far this winter has been a comical, almost cartoonish experience! An inch of snow on the ground and the University of Washington shuts down, city roads are deserted and what cars are left are slipping and sliding around residential streets. Growing up in Vermont an inch of snow meant there was a foot more to come. It also meant time to break out the snow pants/boots/hat/gloves/wool socks and wool layers, because you were going to be walking to school!
For me winter is not the stress that comes with navigating freak snow storms. It's the mystery of snow falling on the ground and the way each little snowflake feels on your face as you build a snow man in your back yard or snow shoe through a dense maple tree forest. Winter is the warmth and comfort you get from drinking hot chocolate while sitting by a crackling orange fire with friends on long dark nights. It's the tingling sensation you get in your nose when it finally starts to thaw out, and that fully satisfied feeling that comes from seeing the ground completely coated in a white blanket.
My advice to Seattle: Be safe, forget the worrying and enjoy the experience of having cold and snow right in your own backyard.
It can't be summer if there's still snow on the ground and it's cold... or can it?
And certainly if it's winter there can't be 100 degrees of heat outside...unless you live in the southern hemisphere...
Seasons are relative, and locational. To be honest, I think seasons are more feelings then the changes in the world around us. Take for example, this winter in Seattle. It is unusually snowy here in the city. For most Satellites the city in the winter is a gray, drizzly, rainy place. When it snows city dwellers hide in their homes, shut down their businesses, and run to REI for down coats while they wait to see if the snow goes away. What happens when the snow doesn't disappear you might ask... nothing good. The feelings associated with snow here are much different then the feelings I have as a long time east coaster, from a state where snow sticks on the ground for almost half the year!
So far this winter has been a comical, almost cartoonish experience! An inch of snow on the ground and the University of Washington shuts down, city roads are deserted and what cars are left are slipping and sliding around residential streets. Growing up in Vermont an inch of snow meant there was a foot more to come. It also meant time to break out the snow pants/boots/hat/gloves/wool socks and wool layers, because you were going to be walking to school!
For me winter is not the stress that comes with navigating freak snow storms. It's the mystery of snow falling on the ground and the way each little snowflake feels on your face as you build a snow man in your back yard or snow shoe through a dense maple tree forest. Winter is the warmth and comfort you get from drinking hot chocolate while sitting by a crackling orange fire with friends on long dark nights. It's the tingling sensation you get in your nose when it finally starts to thaw out, and that fully satisfied feeling that comes from seeing the ground completely coated in a white blanket.
My advice to Seattle: Be safe, forget the worrying and enjoy the experience of having cold and snow right in your own backyard.
Monday, January 3, 2011
The Terminal
What's the movie that came out a few years ago... with Catherine Zeta Jones, and Romance movie stud Tom Hanks?
You know, the one where Tom Hanks' character finds himself stuck in the airport after his home country has a coup and changes leadership. Oh yeah, The Terminal.
Well, I wasn't stuck in JFK and I wasn't in transit between two countries, but I was forced by United Airlines to spend the night in Chicago at O'hare International on my way from Vermont to Seattle. A wary word of advice to all travelers between the East coast and West coast- If you can afford to, spend the extra money and take a direct flight (at least during winter months).
Learn from my misfortune. When I arrived at the airport in Manchester on Dec. 29th I was endearingly optimistic. Earlier in the day I'd checked my flight to see that it was on time. Then full of nostalgia I pulled myself and two carry on bags from my childhood home and headed out with my mom towards the airport. It wasn't until 15 minutes after I'd arrived at the terminal that United announced that my flight would be delayed an hour, at least. Again, my optimism kicked in and I humbly asked the agent at the flight counter about my connecting flight in Chicago. He re-assured me that all flights going in and out of Chicago were experiencing delays and not to worry about my connection. Trouble sign #1....
My plane took off a hour and a half after its scheduled time, spent 20 extra minutes in the air circling O'hare until they were cleared to land, and then took 15 minutes to taxi to the gate. By the time I made it off my plane and jumped on a bus across the airport to my gate, my plane had been gone for 15 minutes... Trouble sign #2.....
My optimism stayed intact, although significantly diminished, while I struggled through lines of people to talk to a customer service representative (trouble sign #3). The United representatives were extremely overworked and had no sympathy. They informed me that they couldn't book me on a flight for another three days (January 1), and that they would not help me in anyway during my stay at the airport (thank you United...). When I finally... and embarrassingly... threw a small fit they finally told me that they could put me on standby for a flight leaving the next morning.
Normally I would have looked at this as another adventure, try to make the best of it, and move on. But for some reason this bump in the road took a toll on me. You could literally taste the bitterness of everyone stranded in O'hare. The United representatives weren't discrete about taking out their annoyance on the waylaid travelers either. Tired and frustrated, everyone left in transit to their final destinations desperately tried to secure the last seats on already full flights. The man at the counter next to me struggled with United as they explained that he would have to wait 9 days to get on a flight home. The next morning I spoke with a woman who took her dog out for a walk at 11:30pm, only to find that she couldn't get back through the security barrier for the rest of the night, and had to sleep just inside the airport doors.
In The Terminal Catherine Zeta Jones was compassionate to Tom Hanks, and helped him through his confusing and stressful JFK experience. My experience with the United airlines representatives was very different.
You know, the one where Tom Hanks' character finds himself stuck in the airport after his home country has a coup and changes leadership. Oh yeah, The Terminal.
Well, I wasn't stuck in JFK and I wasn't in transit between two countries, but I was forced by United Airlines to spend the night in Chicago at O'hare International on my way from Vermont to Seattle. A wary word of advice to all travelers between the East coast and West coast- If you can afford to, spend the extra money and take a direct flight (at least during winter months).
Learn from my misfortune. When I arrived at the airport in Manchester on Dec. 29th I was endearingly optimistic. Earlier in the day I'd checked my flight to see that it was on time. Then full of nostalgia I pulled myself and two carry on bags from my childhood home and headed out with my mom towards the airport. It wasn't until 15 minutes after I'd arrived at the terminal that United announced that my flight would be delayed an hour, at least. Again, my optimism kicked in and I humbly asked the agent at the flight counter about my connecting flight in Chicago. He re-assured me that all flights going in and out of Chicago were experiencing delays and not to worry about my connection. Trouble sign #1....
My plane took off a hour and a half after its scheduled time, spent 20 extra minutes in the air circling O'hare until they were cleared to land, and then took 15 minutes to taxi to the gate. By the time I made it off my plane and jumped on a bus across the airport to my gate, my plane had been gone for 15 minutes... Trouble sign #2.....
My optimism stayed intact, although significantly diminished, while I struggled through lines of people to talk to a customer service representative (trouble sign #3). The United representatives were extremely overworked and had no sympathy. They informed me that they couldn't book me on a flight for another three days (January 1), and that they would not help me in anyway during my stay at the airport (thank you United...). When I finally... and embarrassingly... threw a small fit they finally told me that they could put me on standby for a flight leaving the next morning.
Normally I would have looked at this as another adventure, try to make the best of it, and move on. But for some reason this bump in the road took a toll on me. You could literally taste the bitterness of everyone stranded in O'hare. The United representatives weren't discrete about taking out their annoyance on the waylaid travelers either. Tired and frustrated, everyone left in transit to their final destinations desperately tried to secure the last seats on already full flights. The man at the counter next to me struggled with United as they explained that he would have to wait 9 days to get on a flight home. The next morning I spoke with a woman who took her dog out for a walk at 11:30pm, only to find that she couldn't get back through the security barrier for the rest of the night, and had to sleep just inside the airport doors.
In The Terminal Catherine Zeta Jones was compassionate to Tom Hanks, and helped him through his confusing and stressful JFK experience. My experience with the United airlines representatives was very different.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Superwoman
"It sounds like you had a protective shield keeping you safe"
After Thanksgiving my whole world changed... not unlike it has changed in the past. People, places, and certain events open your eyes to new emotions when you're least expecting. And I certainly didn't expect it to happen while riding my bike home from a full day of work downtown at REI on the Friday after Thanksgiving, Black Friday.
My family, and friends here in Seattle, know that I've been riding my bike the 4.5 miles to and from work. I inherited the bike from a Taiwanese man that I have never met. He was a previous tenant of the house where I'm renting. He worked at the University of Washington last year, and when he returned to Taiwan left his bike in the back yard.
When I moved here, after returning to Seattle, my landlord asked me if I could prepare the backyard/house for winter by stacking chairs and moving tools to the shed. In the process I discovered the beaten up, unloved mountain bike. At first I thought it wasn't so shabby. It carried me the 9 miles I ride daily and allowed me to get to the grocery store and out to dinner with friends. But there were, as with most abandoned bikes, problems. In this bike's case there were major problems with the brakes.
Working at REI has it's perks and I was able to take my sad bike into the bike shop and have the brakes tightened. I knew this was just a temporary fix, and I hoped it would last until I could buy/find myself a new mode of transportation. My hopes were thwarted on Black Friday, when coming home from work I was hit by a car.
Saying that, even writing that, feels like a confession. Nothing traumatic has ever happened to me before, and at the moment I realized a car was going to hit me all I could think about was the momentum of my body, and the surprisingly slow rate at which I was tilting towards the ground. Once I hit the ground, I was back up in two seconds. My bike was in my hands and I was checking the brakes. I didn't even occur to me to check myself.
A man walking on the side walk had seen the whole collision. He ran over, asking me how I was doing-if I was ok. Nothing really made sense and I said, "I'm more worried about my bike, the brakes are broken." His response was, "I can fix the bike, you I can't fix." I insisted I was fine and that my bike was what was broken. When I met the man who had hit me I said, "nice to meet you.... erm.... maybe not..." The whole event is mostly a blur. The whole time I just wanted it to be over.
Once I was on my own again, walking my bike the few blocks back to my house I broke down. I was physically fine, but what if I hadn't been. What if he had been driving faster... what if there had been cars behind me... who would know what happened and who would let my family know the fate of their daughter. Over the next few days I stewed over these thoughts, and then finally I decided to contact the driver. After a few conversations and an emotional coffee shop exchange, we agreed that he would compensate me with money towards a new bike.
It's been a few weeks since we resolved the accident. But I still ride around Seattle thinking every car might make a simple mistake that endangers me. Who will tell my family. It's cliche, but true. Life is spontaneous, and too short to be restrained from doing what you want to do.
After Thanksgiving my whole world changed... not unlike it has changed in the past. People, places, and certain events open your eyes to new emotions when you're least expecting. And I certainly didn't expect it to happen while riding my bike home from a full day of work downtown at REI on the Friday after Thanksgiving, Black Friday.
My family, and friends here in Seattle, know that I've been riding my bike the 4.5 miles to and from work. I inherited the bike from a Taiwanese man that I have never met. He was a previous tenant of the house where I'm renting. He worked at the University of Washington last year, and when he returned to Taiwan left his bike in the back yard.
When I moved here, after returning to Seattle, my landlord asked me if I could prepare the backyard/house for winter by stacking chairs and moving tools to the shed. In the process I discovered the beaten up, unloved mountain bike. At first I thought it wasn't so shabby. It carried me the 9 miles I ride daily and allowed me to get to the grocery store and out to dinner with friends. But there were, as with most abandoned bikes, problems. In this bike's case there were major problems with the brakes.
Working at REI has it's perks and I was able to take my sad bike into the bike shop and have the brakes tightened. I knew this was just a temporary fix, and I hoped it would last until I could buy/find myself a new mode of transportation. My hopes were thwarted on Black Friday, when coming home from work I was hit by a car.
Saying that, even writing that, feels like a confession. Nothing traumatic has ever happened to me before, and at the moment I realized a car was going to hit me all I could think about was the momentum of my body, and the surprisingly slow rate at which I was tilting towards the ground. Once I hit the ground, I was back up in two seconds. My bike was in my hands and I was checking the brakes. I didn't even occur to me to check myself.
A man walking on the side walk had seen the whole collision. He ran over, asking me how I was doing-if I was ok. Nothing really made sense and I said, "I'm more worried about my bike, the brakes are broken." His response was, "I can fix the bike, you I can't fix." I insisted I was fine and that my bike was what was broken. When I met the man who had hit me I said, "nice to meet you.... erm.... maybe not..." The whole event is mostly a blur. The whole time I just wanted it to be over.
Once I was on my own again, walking my bike the few blocks back to my house I broke down. I was physically fine, but what if I hadn't been. What if he had been driving faster... what if there had been cars behind me... who would know what happened and who would let my family know the fate of their daughter. Over the next few days I stewed over these thoughts, and then finally I decided to contact the driver. After a few conversations and an emotional coffee shop exchange, we agreed that he would compensate me with money towards a new bike.
It's been a few weeks since we resolved the accident. But I still ride around Seattle thinking every car might make a simple mistake that endangers me. Who will tell my family. It's cliche, but true. Life is spontaneous, and too short to be restrained from doing what you want to do.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
New Experiences
Put coffee in your oatmeal.
I have now been back in Seattle for two months!
The experiences of my last visit to Alaska still permeate my everyday reality. Anytime I hear Alaska mentioned I jump at the chance to reminisce about my time there and the beauty that is so hard to find anywhere else. The entire month of October I was in culture shock. After falling easily back into the intense routine of everyday life in Alaska, and driving for five days on the Alcan highway through some of the most remote country in the North America, arriving back in civilization with no home and no job was tough. A few gracious friends took me (disillusioned and struggling with modern amenities) in, and let me set up my tent on their back porch. They took me in even though they were dealing with bed bug scares and new house mates moving in! For this I am indebted to them.
As I once again dug into the challenge of re-acquainting myself with technological devices, I was able to secure a part-time position at the REI Seattle Flagship Store (2nd most popular tourist attraction in Seattle & rated one of the best place to find a date) working as a sales specialist in the men's clothing department. I also found a wonderful house in Greenlake just three blocks from my last Seattle home. There's even a vegetable garden to take care of out front!
Now I am fully assimilated back into lower 48 culture. But lately, because of a few interesting conversations and quotes from close friends, I have been thinking more about living in the present. Living in the present is tougher than you might think initially. It means letting go of worrying about the mistakes you made in the past, not worrying about the problems yet to come, and just letting the moments of your day sink in and happen without thought of consequence. I am so used to jumping from one place to the other and feeling the need to seek out my next adventure that I haven't been truly living in the present. I am finding that I have had a lot of amazing experiences over the past year or so, but because I've always been searching for the next job, or the next place, I haven't been able to sit back and appreciate the small moments.
So here's to the small moments and appreciating the things we take for granted. It's been suggested to me before, and now I think I am consciously going to attempt to listen. Put coffee in your oatmeal, boil it with the oats along with cinnamon, brown sugar and milk. Enjoy the sweat caffeinated experience-and mostly importantly- live the moment!
I have now been back in Seattle for two months!
The experiences of my last visit to Alaska still permeate my everyday reality. Anytime I hear Alaska mentioned I jump at the chance to reminisce about my time there and the beauty that is so hard to find anywhere else. The entire month of October I was in culture shock. After falling easily back into the intense routine of everyday life in Alaska, and driving for five days on the Alcan highway through some of the most remote country in the North America, arriving back in civilization with no home and no job was tough. A few gracious friends took me (disillusioned and struggling with modern amenities) in, and let me set up my tent on their back porch. They took me in even though they were dealing with bed bug scares and new house mates moving in! For this I am indebted to them.
As I once again dug into the challenge of re-acquainting myself with technological devices, I was able to secure a part-time position at the REI Seattle Flagship Store (2nd most popular tourist attraction in Seattle & rated one of the best place to find a date) working as a sales specialist in the men's clothing department. I also found a wonderful house in Greenlake just three blocks from my last Seattle home. There's even a vegetable garden to take care of out front!
Now I am fully assimilated back into lower 48 culture. But lately, because of a few interesting conversations and quotes from close friends, I have been thinking more about living in the present. Living in the present is tougher than you might think initially. It means letting go of worrying about the mistakes you made in the past, not worrying about the problems yet to come, and just letting the moments of your day sink in and happen without thought of consequence. I am so used to jumping from one place to the other and feeling the need to seek out my next adventure that I haven't been truly living in the present. I am finding that I have had a lot of amazing experiences over the past year or so, but because I've always been searching for the next job, or the next place, I haven't been able to sit back and appreciate the small moments.
So here's to the small moments and appreciating the things we take for granted. It's been suggested to me before, and now I think I am consciously going to attempt to listen. Put coffee in your oatmeal, boil it with the oats along with cinnamon, brown sugar and milk. Enjoy the sweat caffeinated experience-and mostly importantly- live the moment!
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Returning
"Did anyone visit Calypso last year?"
In my life I've had a few opportunities to visit places that I've loved and left. Leaving home for college and returning after graduation, visiting Cortona Italy with my family after high school and returning during my junior year of college study abroad, going back to DC for Obama's inauguration after graduating from George Washington University and currently my return to Calypso Farm to help with their fall field trips.
My first experiences in all of these places were ones of growth. Each place taught me about myself and the world around me. It is because of these initial moments that returning to these places feels like coming home. There is a familiarity with the culture, the surrounding environment, and old hang out spots. But in returning, I have found that I need to be aware of the changes that have happened since I left. Most times these changes are small, almost unnoticeable until looked at more closely.
These are the feelings I've been working through since arriving back at Calypso. Nevertheless the past few weeks in Alaska have been great. I have reconnected with the amazing Calypso community and hurtled myself back into the large, and sometimes hectic, field trip coordinating routine. The garden here is just past it's peak of production and large carrots, kale, potatoes, beets, lettuces, Brussels sprouts, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, zucchini, squash and more are being harvested. I am constantly amazed by the amount of produce and the variety of vegetables that can be grown together in one place.
I am also still learning new things about the Ester community. Last summer I discovered the gold mining operations in Ester gorge, and I saw the gold mining dredges. I knew that Ester had been founded by prospectors searching for gold during the gold rush. But last week, for the first time, I got to see a prospecting operation up close! Judy, a beloved Calypso volunteer, invited us to tour her husband's gold operation... right in their backyard! Judy and her husband are both retired from their full time jobs but her husband keeps busy following his own gold "vein" (as miners call the streaks of amethyst where gold can be found). The day we visited it was raining, but Bob brightened the dimness of the weather with his jovial explanation of how he found his "vein" and how one sorts through rocks and mud to pan for gold.
"you can't pan in the river, if you ever go panning in a river you know it's a fake operation. You gotta have a bin to catch anything that falls out. Then you can just re-pan instead of it flying off in the current."
Bob took us through the archeology of the site, how he found his vein, and the long... painstaking process of finding gold dust, gold nuggets and gold lines. He also explained how his operation is different from the big mining operations.
"if you're like the high school kids around here, you know that to pay for school all you have to do is go search through the old dredge piles."
Apparently, gold dredges are only built to sort for gold dust-anything bigger like a gold nugget the dredges toss out like a rock because nuggets are so rare to find. By running a small prospecting operation, Bob is able to catch all of the above.
As Fall rolls in and the trees change to yellow, I only have a month left in Alaska. I still don't know what will happen after I am done at Calypso. The uncertainty is exciting, but I am also fighting a slightly nervous feeling. I'll keep you all informed as I know more about my next steps.
In my life I've had a few opportunities to visit places that I've loved and left. Leaving home for college and returning after graduation, visiting Cortona Italy with my family after high school and returning during my junior year of college study abroad, going back to DC for Obama's inauguration after graduating from George Washington University and currently my return to Calypso Farm to help with their fall field trips.
My first experiences in all of these places were ones of growth. Each place taught me about myself and the world around me. It is because of these initial moments that returning to these places feels like coming home. There is a familiarity with the culture, the surrounding environment, and old hang out spots. But in returning, I have found that I need to be aware of the changes that have happened since I left. Most times these changes are small, almost unnoticeable until looked at more closely.
These are the feelings I've been working through since arriving back at Calypso. Nevertheless the past few weeks in Alaska have been great. I have reconnected with the amazing Calypso community and hurtled myself back into the large, and sometimes hectic, field trip coordinating routine. The garden here is just past it's peak of production and large carrots, kale, potatoes, beets, lettuces, Brussels sprouts, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, zucchini, squash and more are being harvested. I am constantly amazed by the amount of produce and the variety of vegetables that can be grown together in one place.
I am also still learning new things about the Ester community. Last summer I discovered the gold mining operations in Ester gorge, and I saw the gold mining dredges. I knew that Ester had been founded by prospectors searching for gold during the gold rush. But last week, for the first time, I got to see a prospecting operation up close! Judy, a beloved Calypso volunteer, invited us to tour her husband's gold operation... right in their backyard! Judy and her husband are both retired from their full time jobs but her husband keeps busy following his own gold "vein" (as miners call the streaks of amethyst where gold can be found). The day we visited it was raining, but Bob brightened the dimness of the weather with his jovial explanation of how he found his "vein" and how one sorts through rocks and mud to pan for gold.
"you can't pan in the river, if you ever go panning in a river you know it's a fake operation. You gotta have a bin to catch anything that falls out. Then you can just re-pan instead of it flying off in the current."
Bob took us through the archeology of the site, how he found his vein, and the long... painstaking process of finding gold dust, gold nuggets and gold lines. He also explained how his operation is different from the big mining operations.
"if you're like the high school kids around here, you know that to pay for school all you have to do is go search through the old dredge piles."
Apparently, gold dredges are only built to sort for gold dust-anything bigger like a gold nugget the dredges toss out like a rock because nuggets are so rare to find. By running a small prospecting operation, Bob is able to catch all of the above.
As Fall rolls in and the trees change to yellow, I only have a month left in Alaska. I still don't know what will happen after I am done at Calypso. The uncertainty is exciting, but I am also fighting a slightly nervous feeling. I'll keep you all informed as I know more about my next steps.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Got Veg.
Got Veg? New Holly Youth and Family P-Patch does...
I realize that there is a lot to catch you up on. Especially since I have now officially completed my 2009-10 AmeriCorps term, and I honestly don't know if I can catch up on everything that has happened over the past year on this blog. Never the less there is one thing that I do want to devote time to writing about.
Whether your family, friends or random internet reader interested in organic food and food systems, I think that you will be able to relate to this entry. In the United States there is a huge gap in youth education concerning where the food they consume comes from. I've read about cafeteria lunches consisting mostly of greasy pizzas popped in a microwave right before being served as that days hot lunch, accompanied by heated up frozen tatter tots that count as the lunch vegetable. I've also heard youth grown at the thought of eating a fresh garden carrot with a little dirt on it, stating they'd prefer to get their vegetables from the Safeway down the street (at least they're eating veggies). But statements like this blaringly highlight the evidence that there is a disconnect between American youth and the food they eat.
Yes. I know that these days I am preaching to the choir. there are literally hundreds of efforts across the U.S. to improve school lunches and connect youth to the environment. Despite these efforts, the bills that are being passed in Washington DC are not making big enough changes. Most recently I read an article about the newest bill entitled "Improving Nutrition for America's Children Act of 2010", which grants .6 cents more per child to healthier school lunches... (you can read more here http://edlabor.house.gov/blog/2010/06/improving-nutrition-for-americ.shtml). The bill also promises more access for students who are eligible for school lunch programs, and also justifies the small increase in funding by saying it is the first increase in 30 years. It's better than nothing, and probably will help students in the long run. But it is a very small step to solving a problem that has been growing for the last 50 years or more. If government continues to avoid solving the problems in youth nutrition that it has caused through supporting organizations like Mansanto and subsidizing crops that ultimately make us an obese nation, than we will definitely not meet the goals set by Michelle Obama's Task Force to reduce childhood obesity by 2020. Not to mention our youth will continue down their current path of becoming the first generation to dye before their parents (BIG DEAL!).
I realize that there is a lot to catch you up on. Especially since I have now officially completed my 2009-10 AmeriCorps term, and I honestly don't know if I can catch up on everything that has happened over the past year on this blog. Never the less there is one thing that I do want to devote time to writing about.
Whether your family, friends or random internet reader interested in organic food and food systems, I think that you will be able to relate to this entry. In the United States there is a huge gap in youth education concerning where the food they consume comes from. I've read about cafeteria lunches consisting mostly of greasy pizzas popped in a microwave right before being served as that days hot lunch, accompanied by heated up frozen tatter tots that count as the lunch vegetable. I've also heard youth grown at the thought of eating a fresh garden carrot with a little dirt on it, stating they'd prefer to get their vegetables from the Safeway down the street (at least they're eating veggies). But statements like this blaringly highlight the evidence that there is a disconnect between American youth and the food they eat.
Yes. I know that these days I am preaching to the choir. there are literally hundreds of efforts across the U.S. to improve school lunches and connect youth to the environment. Despite these efforts, the bills that are being passed in Washington DC are not making big enough changes. Most recently I read an article about the newest bill entitled "Improving Nutrition for America's Children Act of 2010", which grants .6 cents more per child to healthier school lunches... (you can read more here http://edlabor.house.gov/blog/2010/06/improving-nutrition-for-americ.shtml). The bill also promises more access for students who are eligible for school lunch programs, and also justifies the small increase in funding by saying it is the first increase in 30 years. It's better than nothing, and probably will help students in the long run. But it is a very small step to solving a problem that has been growing for the last 50 years or more. If government continues to avoid solving the problems in youth nutrition that it has caused through supporting organizations like Mansanto and subsidizing crops that ultimately make us an obese nation, than we will definitely not meet the goals set by Michelle Obama's Task Force to reduce childhood obesity by 2020. Not to mention our youth will continue down their current path of becoming the first generation to dye before their parents (BIG DEAL!).
In March I also began to organize a garden club at New Holly for Middle-High School students. I originally started the club as a way to connect older New Holly youth to the P-Patch program, but I also wanted it to be a safe place where youth could come to learn and share nutritious healthy meals. So, with the help of some of the other AmeriCorps in my program, everyother week we cooked dinners and on other weeks we worked in our P-Patch plot. The club was a success drawing over 20 youth to the New Holly Community Kitchen and P-Patch garden. We made dinners of stuffed red lentil/rice peppers, fried eggplant, kale chips, egg drop soup, stir-fry and spring rolls-just to name a few. We also fixed the New Holly Youth and Family P-Patch fence, planned and planted a garden, learned how to make compost and harvested veggies to use in our dinners! The youth who participated were amazing and really fun to work with. They came to meetings excited to cook and share meals. I learned a lot just from planning club meetings and interacting with the youth. To check out a video that was made about the club click here: http://pugetsoundoff.org/
It feels good knowing that even though government isn't moving fast enough in terms of food policy, there are still programs that allow people like me to make a small difference in youth education around food. In fact AmeriCorps programs such as AppleCorps are begining to pop up all around the country in the form of FoodCorps. Until the changes we need are made higher up I can only hope that AmeriCorps volunteers, nutritionists, gardeners and others in the food movement keep up their efforts to teach and expose students to healthy, fresh, nutritious food.
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