Random Interesting Links: Goodbye Space

As you are probably aware, today marks the final launching of the NASA space shuttle program.  This is sad.  I am a big fan and, honestly, don't see why we want to stop sending people up.  I dimly recall an urge to privatize (a popular urge these days) but I have been a fan of Kirk, Spock, and Bones too long to think it is a good idea to let corporations control outer space. It just seems shortsighted to me.

Well, that is all.  It just seems that the day needs to be noticed and marked in some way.

Here are two links.

This one is to the official NASA launch page.

This one is to the Goddard Project.  It is a program funded by the Worcester Area Mission Society (WAMS), the service arm of the Central Association of the Massachusetts Conference, United Church of Christ (CA-MACUCC).  WAMS does do many, many other things.  Most of them are a of a traditional church service variety.  However, this is perhaps the most fitting to link to today.

Swimming Transcendentalism

Life at the parsonage has been a bit crazy lately.  Summer is upon us and various programs for the kids have coincided with various projects of my own and of the family in general.  Also, there have been maintenance issues.  Right now contractors are digging up my garden to put in a pipe that will connect the ol' parsonage to the town sewer.  Losing the garden has been sad.  However, retiring the cesspool most likely put in a century ago when plumbing finally came to Eliot Church is such an overdue joy I can put up with re-planting.  Sadly though, all this action does mean that I am home on a beautiful day.  I would rather be swimming. 

Swimming is my preferred form of exercise.  However, I see no real reason to do it in a pool.  The pool always has a "fast lane" and a "slow lane".  Both are for folks who are getting their assigned laps in so they can be healthier people.  There is nothing wrong with that.  I am just not linear enough as a person to enjoy it.  Why isn' there a "treading water for a while" lane?  Perhaps a "pretend you are a whale" lane would add some zing to Adult Swim.  I drive the kids to the "Y" every weekday.  I believe I am qualified to assert that there is no place or reason there for an "admire the view" lane. 

So sue me for wanting swimming to be more stately and entertaining.  I will stay out of your way at the pool and go to the lake. This weekend we managed to get over to Walden Pond.  Many of you will remember it from literature.  Every once in a while the 'burbs make a lasting positive contribution to society.  Impressionism springs to mind.  So does Transcendentalism...OK it has been a while...

Lots has happened to the poor old pond since Henry Thoreau (with the help of his buddy Bronson Alcott) cleared a small piece of Ralph Waldo Emerson's Burbanian possessions to build his one-room house.  The plan was that Henry would play flute to the fishes, garden, write and walk to his friends' homes for dinner.  It worked out famously.  Fame has both preserved this area in the midst of development and attracted many, many visitors.

The pond is quite a bit more crowded than it was back in Thoreau's day.  It is a state park with a changing room, two small beach areas and a life-sized statue of the great man, himself.  There is also a mock-up of his cabin located near the parking lot.  The original cabin site is about half way around the lake near a large pile of rocks.  It turned out that Alcott's memory was a bit off when showing folks where the house was.  Thankfully this meant that the stone-offerings brought by Thoreau worshippers failed to obscure the actual foundation when it was finally located.

Anyway, it was a fantastic day for a swim.  The crowds stayed right on or next to the shore.  The wet-suited fast-lane folks jumped in, swam across the lake, came back, stripped off their wet suits and marched on to their power-bars or power lunches or whatever.  This left the middle of the lake for boaters (no motors, please) and random water-treading back-floaters like myself.  It was awesome. it was rejuvenating.  I was reminded, in fact, of a sentence describing Horace Bushnell written by one of his biographers, Barbara Cross.  "In isolation, a 'sweet sense of estrangement' crept over him, and he responded to the 'sublime cataracts' of the East Hampton ocean and of Niagara as to the 'divine music' which he heard in the 'lofty passes of the alps.'"  OK, Concord Massachusetts isn't an Alp.  Still, it was nice and with my eyes pointed to the sky and my ears in the water I could have been anywhere.

Walden isn't where I usually do my swimming, though.  The next day we went to Dug Pond, the town beach in my own municipality.  It was somewhat less crowded, but judging by the number of brief conversations and encounters I had there, it appears that I know a lot of teenagers and middle-aged men.  I must be old and semi-respectable (sigh).  The view is a bit different as well.  Instead of forest and wet-suits there were familiar faces and the emerging facade of our new high school.  You could hear the power-tools and the trucks trying to get it ready for the students of a year from now. Still, with your head in the water you could be anywhere. 

I like fresh-water swimming.  I like it up in Northern Maine where the water is cold and the crowds are thin.  I like here in town, too.  It isn't just exercise.  Watching the landscape and the people who enjoy it I am reminded that--along with William Henry Furness--I can "rejoice that we can so freely approach the infinite majesty of heaven, that in this vast and various creation we are not lonely and forsaken".

I think I am OK going to Dug Pond.  I wish I was there now...


Here is a link to Walden Pond for you non-MetroWesters.

Here is a link to Dug Pond, in case you plan to visit me this summer.

Here is Horace Bushnell.  Incidentally, for a more nuanced view of the man, I would recommend Gary Dorrien's work on liberal Christianity.  Cross wrote in 1958 and rather glossed over some of Bushnell's less liberal traits.  Also...yes, I really did think of that sentence about Bushnell while floating in Walden Pond.  I just read the book and that is the best sentence in it...

Here is  William Henry Furness.

The CSA Has Begun! (With Links to MHOF and Dismas House)

I must admit.  The beginning of this year's Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) share has added a bit of spring to my step over the past day or so.  It has been a busy time.  School is ending.  Summer services are beginning.  There is other stuff to.  I look at my metaphorical plate these days and find it close to full.  I bet some of you are feeling the same way.

Last year the CSA buyer's group at the church was quite a bit larger.  Some folks split off to form another group.  Others just decided it wouldn't work for them.  That's OK.  I have to say, though, that it works for me!  It is amazing what a bag of local organic veggies can do for one's spirit. It elevates our minds and joins us to the ground. Last night we had a salad that didn't even know it was picked yet.   May there be more salads like that to come...

Here is a link to the Many Hands Organic Farm where our share comes from.  They do good work, both with their veggies and with Dismas House.   Here also is a link to the Many Hands Sustainability Center. When choosing a farm, we felt that this was the one where our money went farthest.  We are very, very happy with our choice!

Ya know...I believe there are a few slots left for the Framingham pick-up site.  You might want to check it out.  After all, every Burbanian should eat more vegetables...

Post-Easter Blues



I always find it hard to get going the week after Easter.  Yes, the seasons have changed and we are all supposed to be spritely and vigorous.  However, it takes time for me to ramp up.  No doubt part of this is because of the toll Lent, Holy Week, and Easter can take on someone in my profession.  Every job has times like this.  It is the high-energy time.  It begins when many folks are feeling sluggish from their winter hibernation. It ends on the official "resurrection day".  That's a lot of pressure.  That's a lot of activity.  Of course, it is also allergy season....



Whatever the reason, I find that right after Easter I want to either hide indoors or climb a really large mountain in some less populated region.  I also would like a place with fewer cars.  I was raised a country-boy but don't particularly miss it except when each season changes.  The 'burbs just don't feel (and certainly don't smell or sound) the same as where I grew up.  I miss the connection to nature that comes from inhabiting a place where nature--not people--still holds the balance of power.



 Well, we didn't drive up to Maine.  We also haven't hidden in some far corner of the parsonage.  What Norm and I did manage to do was to drive about a mile away to the local bird sanctuary.  We just barely managed to beat the rain.  It was good to be there.  We walked on some of the trails we enjoyed during our winter hikes and marveled at the changes.  We spotted some birds and reported them to the office so they could go on the list.  It was nice to be out, even if it didn't quite meet all of our requirements.  Burbania is about compromise, after all.



We also signed Norm up for  homeschool classes at the sanctuary.  This is good.  He has taken them before and misses his friends.  These classes--held in various locations and on various subjects--are very important social outlets as well and educational ones.  Norm is considering a second year of homeschool.  A lot will depend on whether he feels he can see other kids.  Homeschoolers spend little time at home, actually.  A lot of it is spent with fellow-students.  A lot of it is spent in nature.  Which reminds me...its time to plan for summer camps...



1.3 Car Family

You may recall that one of the very first posts on this blog was about going down to one car. This, I think, is one of the great challenges for the environmentally conscious Burbanian. Some would even say it is impossible in certain settings. I live in the sort of area that a few residents still like to call "semi-rural". It's not rural at all, really, but there are big-ish lawns, space between houses, trees, and not so much as a bus stop within two miles. So I and my neighbors climb into our cars--one for each licensed driver in the family--and go about our business in splendid isolation from each other.

I am not judging, trust me. Checking out the date on that early post, it appears we have been attempting to get down to one car since November, 2009. That is a long time. We first made some mild attempts to sell our Toyota Sienna. I don't like this car very much. Driving it is like driving one of those Star Trek shuttles...or paddling a raft over a lake of Jell-O. Funny thing, it looks like there are enough mini-vans around town and nobody wanted another one. Altering our strategy, I made calls and sent some emails about selling my car. It was a Saab 9-2x (really a re-badged Subaru Impreza). I didn't want to sell it. It got better mileage. It looked better. It was more fun to drive. Also, I could fit all the kids and the dog in it to run errands if need be, maneuvering through the tighter areas of the family bus-route with little thought or worry.

We had pretty much given up selling that car too when a miracle occurred! I got into an accident and totaled the Saab. This was a couple months ago.  Now we are embarked on the journey toward single-car ownership in a big way. You may ask why we haven't bought another one. Perhaps a "Smart" car, or a two-door hatchback with three seatbelts in the back? The fact is, we cannot afford it. So there may be--to be honest--a bit of putting a smiley-face on a bad situation when I say we are planning to take the plunge. However, this is not entirely the case.

I realize that my personal energy-policy view could be seen as somewhat eccentric. However, I truly believe that we need to start considering potentially inconvenient lifestyle changes if we hope to live on this rock in the future. I think the government should consider making us turn off all non-essential appliances for a hour or two a day, for example. I also am not a fan of hybrid cars, which substitute one form of pollution (batteries) for a portion of another form of pollution (petroleum) so that we can continue to drive larger cars than we need. Really, hybrids are a dead-end. You can, in fact, purchase a regular car that uses less gas...but that would mean compromise in comfort, convenience, and so on.

So, anyway, we only own one car now...the boat-like Sienna. Having only one has in fact reduced the amount of total driving we do. Norm and I walk the two miles to the train station when we need to go into Boston. My wife and I pool our errands at times in order to get everything done. Is it inconvenient? Yes. Does it reduce our carbon footprint? Yes. Will it work over the long term? I don't know.

See, here's the thing. When I had my accident I wasn't planning on a single-car lifestyle. I do most of the after-school driving. However, I rely on my wife to pick up the youngest from daycare after she gets out of work. By that time I am miles away--usually at the YMCA--and beyond helping. I also have meetings in Worcester every month and there are weddings I will officiate this summer in scenic locales. These are sticking points in the schedule.

What we do have, which has helped us immeasurably is my dad's car. It is a Saturn Ion from the time when Saturn really started phoning it in. I mean, it was born broken and it hasn't gotten better over time. However, while we do not use it much, it gets us through the scheduling bottlenecks until we are able to plan for our one-car existence. Our goal is to ease out of it, which I think may be possible...once this "Y" calendar cycle is exhausted, perhaps, or maybe just a little bit longer...

OK, I have my doubts. We are still trying, though. I would like to get us at least from 1.3 cars to 1.1 this summer. At that point one can rent occasionally and bike more frequently. Maybe--with some lifestyle adjustments--it is doable.

Here is the link to that old post about selling our car

Here is a post about the cars of the future.  It looks like I never edited this post for typos, spelling, and grammar...but the cars are nice...

Sacred Spaces and the Folk Chapel

     The congregation recently gave me a generous graduation gift in honor of the completion of my DMin. Part of the gift was a stole with pine trees on it.  The other part was meant to help defray the costs of a vacation.  Recently we made use of this second part. 

     Many folks like to go south during the winter.  Honestly, I have trouble seeing the attraction.  My family likes to go out in the snow.  You can't beat the winter.  Retreating from it just makes you more isolated.  Therefore instead of some warm spot like Florida, we went north to Stowe, Vermont.  It is one of our favorite places.  We stayed in town at one of the many motels, but we spent much of our time on skis and snowshoes.  The kids love it.  We love it, too.

     Of course, even though it was a vacation, I couldn't completely remove my minister hat.  On one of the days, I took Norm and Son #3 on a hike to the Chapel at Trapp Lodge.  The chapel was built by Werner von Trapp to commemorate his coming through the Second World War in one piece.  Part of this story is, of course, told in (or adapted to) the "Sound of Music" movie.  In real life, Werner was one of the Trapp kids who escaped Austria and the Nazis.  He was also a musician and a farmer.  During the war, however, he served in the 10th Mountain Division.  He was, not surprisingly, happy to get back home.

     The chapel is an interesting place.  It is small. It fits only four or five people at a time.  There is no electricity, so all the light comes from the "windows" along the walls. The images inside are mostly Christian.  There are crosses, as you can see in the picture.  Also, a strangely beat-up Gideon Bible lies on the table.  There is a place to put your written prayers, too.  In that sense it reflects the religion of the Trapps at the time it was built.  Though there is no reason to believe that the family is more religious than any other, the main lodge has quite a bit of religious imagery in the public spaces as well.  It isn't overwhelming, but there is enough for a minister to notice without trying too hard.

     However, there is another vibe that works its way through the chapel scene that, I think, is what continues to make it a sort of pilgrimage spot for a variety of people.  It is set in a beautiful location and its presence accentuates the spiritual element of the natural world that surrounds it.  That is, it transcends sect and helps us reach the religious sense that exists in all humans regardless of their interest or creedal affiliation.  One of my mentors in the ministry--a Presbyterian--once told me that all Mainers are at least half pantheist.  He meant it as a compliment.  I am pretty sure that it was true when he said it and that it is true today for many folks.  People who live in Northern New England may have an easier time of seeing this dimension of their lives than folks from Burbania.  Still, deep down, Burbanians have this tendency, too.

     Perhaps it is true, though, that rural people are bigger chapel builders.  There is certainly less fear of being considered different.  Having some sort of shrine outdoors can make one stand out a bit.  In my time in Maine (all my childhood and a good chunk of my adulthood) I have encountered a great many shrines and markers that folks have put up for the purpose of devotion.  I have built a few myself.  I don't see that happening as much where I live now.  There is the expense of owning a large enough piece of Burbanian land.  There is the effort of construction.  There is also the sense of faith as being intensely private.  If there is any outward sign of a religious life, it is usually kept inside the Burbanian home. 

     Also, there is a greater connection to the land in rural places.  There just is.  Working outdoors, or knowing a large number of people who do changes your relationship with the earth.  That relationship has grown with time and with contact in a way that a few camping trips and a lift ticket cannot replicate.  Our relationship with the earth benefits more from "quantity time" than "quality time."  This can be said about many other kinds of relationships.  If we are really half-pantheists at heart, it would make sense that shrines and chapels would be built by those most comfortable with the imagery and the language of the natural settings these objects rest in.

     It should be noted that many of these shrines that I have seen are not built by terribly religious folks.  Or, rather, they are terribly religious (as most people are) but they are not big into organized religion.  People who go to Werner's chapel may go to church or synagogue, but I bet most do not.  It still means something to them.  It still brings them closer to the Divine, whatever that might mean for them.  Chapel building is a form of democratic folk worship.  We should be doing more of this, even in places where the societal structure is less flexible than it is in Stowe, Vermont.

     Incidentally, it would be a great place for a wedding.  I bet it would cost a whole lot of money unless--of course--it was a "guerrilla wedding.".  I always wanted to do one of those...

Back to the CSA

I have been dealing with the snow by planning my spring.  Part of this involves figuring out the future of my rather small garden.  Part of it means ordering my Summer CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) share once again....

Last year at the church a group of people got together and split up large shares between them.  It was quite a lot of vegetables.  Doing it as a group also meant that we could take turns driving to the initial pick-up spot some five miles away and returning the veggies to the parsonage porch where they are more easily accessible.  I have learned since coming to Burbania that distances over 4 miles are viewed as arduous and inconvenient.  At that distance, one usually crosses a town line.

This year it isn't clear what will happen.  Many of the people who took part are not planning to take part this year.  Some aren't sure they can eat that many vegetables.  Some didn't like the fact that the food--necessarily seasonal--didn't connect conveniently to family tastes or meal plans.  There were, for example, an epic number of beets that are making a mighty compost for my garden.  Also, many members of the church travel quite a bit in the summer.  They just don't know if they will be around enough for it to make sense.  Finally, the farm added what they call a "medium" share, which is smaller and more manageable for those Burbanians who don't own a goat.  This is a good thing, but it means that we don't really need to pool our resources in the same way.

None of these issues really apply to me enough not to do it, however.  We don't travel much except to Maine.  Also, I liked getting all those vegetables.  I wouldn't have eaten as many otherwise.  I even like pre-paying as money can often feel tight in the summer.  There was always the security of knowing that there was a meal in the fridge.  Now it turns out (what a surprise!) that we all need to be eating a lot less of everything but eating a much higher percentage of veg!  Some folks are saying fruit and vegetables should be half your plate!  There is no way I will be able to do this without the CSA.  This winter--with no CSA, just snow--I have tried to keep up, but my vegetable eating has definitely dropped off.

  This year I am getting a medium share of vegetables and a fruit share.  What I have done is suggest to folks that they can order shares if they wish and we can then coordinate shared pick-up.  Of course, if no one else does sign up, I am fully prepared to make that epic five-mile drive on my own.  After all, there is a grocery store practically next door where I can purchase ingredients that suit what is in my CSA bag.  On weeks that one cannot pick-up, the vegetables go to a good cause. 

Incidentally, I am making this offer to anyone who lives in the area.  So let me know if you are interested!

Here is a link to the farm...

Yep, It is Going to Snow...Again

Everyone is talking about the snow these days and it is hard not to.  The last storm taxed our resources and our patience quite a bit.  Our road--normally about a lane and a half wide--is down to one lane.  Faced with the challenge of getting their precious charges to nursery school, however, suburbanites with their SUV's have driven up over the snowbanks on either side.  Now it is concave.  It is our own personal half-pipe.  Also, presented with the shortage of paid snow-days, the school system is going to try to race ahead of the storm and get the schools open today.  It is a tough call that might have gone the other way in December or early January.  Now there are only 1.5 snow days left for the year.  The snow is supposed to keep falling until Thursday morning...

Regular readers will know that I am making peace with winter as best I can.  It has always been a rocky relationship.  Winter makes us sleepy.   More specifically, it makes us want to curl up in bed with a jar of cookies and a box of decongestants praying for a glimpse of the sun.  Even as a child in Maine, nestled among the happy memories of sledding and the snow forts are more problematic ones, like fetching wood in the freezing cold in order to stoke the fabulously dangerous stove that burnt my fingers and made some rooms ridiculously hot while leaving others untouched.  I wore a hat to bed well into my adulthood.  I still do when the parsonage furnace breaks.  I still remember my youngest sister breaking into tears one late February morning in Cumberland County because the clouds had gathered above us for the tenth day in a row.  In addition, I somehow list among my happiest moments a Palm Sunday where my wife and I sat in the window of the Bagel Shop in Bangor watching the rain wash the last snow of a very bad winter into the Kenduskeag canal.  It may be the reason for my deep and abiding love for lox and capers.

That having been said, I am in relatively good spirits.  I am on sabbatical, after all.  Even being yelled at by an old lady this weekend for "messing up the trail for everyone else" while cross-country skiing was only momentarily humiliating.  I like snow shoes better anyway.  This storm means great snowshoeing for a few days.  I will happily take them...and I will bring Norm.

In fact, my problems with the snow reside mostly in two categories.  The first is the clearly taxed infrastructure.  This snow is stretching the resources of our town, its institutions, and its people.  That worries me.  On an interpersonal level as a pastor, I am worried about the stress levels of my community as these resources get even more stretched.  As a parsonage tenant, I am worried about what will happen when the snow melts.  Last year the town sewer backed up and flooded my neighborhood with untreated waste...twice.  When I say flooded, by the way.  I am speaking of actual feet of standing water (and other things) on our lawns and in our basements.  The sewer pipe belongs to the state.  There is no reason to believe that it will not happen again this year.  Of course, I am philosophical.  As I have mentioned repeatedly on this blog, we are not meant to live this way.  It requires too much of the earth.  But, then, there is the clean-up...

The other category is education.  Every time a snow day is called, I am put in the position of figuring out exactly how much I can ask Norm to do with his brothers home.  It is messing up lesson plans and putting us behind.  A brief chat with other homeschool parents at the MFA drop off last week indicated that many of them just ignore snow days and move right along with their plans.  Certainly homeschool programs do not cancel as often.  However, it is a hard thing to make a kid study when you have a mixed family of school and home-school kids.  At this rate, Norm Academy will be going well into August.

Ah well,  what can one do?  I have cookies and decongestants...and a shovel so I am ready.  Here are a couple links to earlier "snow-posts" that are a bit more cheerful here and here.  That second one is for the homeschoolers.

Also, the Atheneaum is opening today!  I won't be there.  I will be shovelling.  Then I will be reading the books I inadvertently saved from the flood.   However, if you want to help with the clean-up, you can always contribute here.  Here is a link to the original post about the Athenaeum.  Might as well read all this stuff....you aren't going anywhere.

Update:  I should note that the title is now officially misleading.  It is snowing now...hard.  Also, the town decided to burn the remaining half snow-day and the kids are on their way home...

Slowness

Last weekend my wife and I actually went out to dinner without the children.  The older ones were at a sleepover and the younger one was semi-safely ensconced at the YMCA "Parent's Night Out" kid corral.  We walked a couple of blocks from the Y and went to a "Pre-Columbian Mexican" restaurant that is a dedicated part of the slow food movement.  It even had a slow-food decorative motif...snails...on the walls and windows.  The snail is slow food's international symbol.  Did I mention that the movement was started by the French?

The food (we had the cactus) was fantastic!  We will go again without the children.  It is a bit pricey for our particular tax bracket, but folks seemed friendly and there were other families with children around so if you have the means, go for the family theme.  Of course, the concept isn't for everybody.  It takes a lot of patience, something we don't always have a lot of practice at. The folks next to us, for example, were less than pleased by the pace of the service (it is slow, which they warn you about when you sit down) and weren't so sure about many of the dishes (which were traditional and new to us Burbanians).  I also chafed at moments, but then I would look at the snail and remind myself that this, in fact, was the point of being there...slowing down.

Slowness is something that I do not do well.  Many people do it even worse.  We are not rewarded for being slow.  We are impatient with each other and so we are rewarded for being prompt, convenient, even early.  The tortoise may win that famous race, but we really wish we were the hare.  Actually we wish we were a smarter hare who figured out how to crush that tortoise while winning fame for our greatness and wealth for our multi-tasking.  Let's face it.  We tell the kids about the tortoise but we don't expect them to follow his example so much.  Grown-ups don't, so it would be hypocrisy to tell kids to...right?  Sometimes being an adult is about looking busy, rushing about with a cellphone in our ear and a determined look on our faces.  It is the sign of success for many and slowness gets judged.  To practice slowness is to fly in the face of the Burbanian culture, which is not an easy thing to do.

Part of my goal this year is to become slower at things.  Perhaps by doing so I can experience life at a pace that enables reflection.  It is part of the "sabbath" dimension of my sabbatical-not-yet-begun.  Of course, I am somewhat prepared.  I compost.  Composting is very, very slow.  I garden...also slow.  I brew beer.  It can takes weeks or months to make a proper beer!   I use dry beans. With each of these, though, there is a trade-off.  There are things that do not get done.  Is that OK?  Sometimes yes and sometimes no.  Another challenge when we try to reclaim slowness is that we must also reclaim certain values that have been sacrificed to our need for speed.  I am learning what those are for me (see the previous post on "stuff").  What are they for you?

I made a beer today.  I also worked.  The work I did (I hope!) benefited from the pace my brewing set.  Everything is timed and measured.  Everything has its place.  This is how slowness (and slow-food) helped me write that doctoral paper.  Perhaps it will continue to help.  Maybe it will help you.

I am making a farmhouse ale (or more accurately a "parsonage ale").  It can be be fermented hot.  I added some saaz hops along with some older pellets of dubious origin.  I put in some coriander seeds that grew in my garden (itself a months-long process).  I pitched the  yeast.  I carried it upstairs to the spare bedroom where it sits with the lid off and the windows open, wafting in the humid air of a hot Burbanian day in Eastern Massachusetts.  There is a baseball game going on outside.  Perhaps the sound will somehow be picked up by the fermentation as well.  Maybe when it is done--a month from now when we will be swinging for the stands at church--I will reflect back on this day and it will have been worth the wait.

The Oil Spill is My Fault

I bet you probably ride your horse to the grocery store, or maybe bike, or perhaps walk.  I bet you do this for work, too.  I too, in fact, walk to work and my wife commutes from the kitchen to her home office.  However, it is my car that gets me to the store and back. Even though I have a CSA share, the bananas I put on my kashi this morning definitely weren't grown in the Commonwealth. Also it carries us to children's after-school activities (of which there are many).  In fact, on the weekends we like to get out of town (car again) and up until recently I was studying for my doctorate in Chicago (car and plane!). 

My house isn't illuminated by candles and it isn't heated by them either.  No, some sort of petroleum product comes in from the street and makes my furnace go "whoosh" when it is in a whooshing mood.  When it isn't, there are the good, old, electric space heaters.  This is helpful, since our internal temperature in the winter is usually determined by the prevailing winds.  My fridge seems to be powered by something.  So too is my gas-stove.  I like my TV and computer and did I say that I drive a car?  Often?

Fact of the matter is, my whole neighborhood is petroleum-based.  Without it we wouldn't be able to live the way we do.  Even if we take the train to the city we have to drive to it first.  Without oil our lawns wouldn't be nearly as well-sculpted and our social lives would be much less interesting.  Our range would shrink and we would need to be friends with each other because we would be all there was to see.  Sounds quaint at first, but...really?  Burbania 24/7?

Again, those of you who go by horse and carriage are probably fine, so don't think I am talking about you.  I am talking about me.  BP is sorry.  Well that's nice.  The other oil companies say that they would never do such things.  Um...OK.  The President wants a new energy policy.  Good for him!  But part of this mess is mine.  What about my new energy policy?  What can I do, wretched man that I am?  Ultimately for the species to survive, lifestyles have to change.  That means mine, too.

It appears that there is in my person another law at war with the law of my mind.  Yes, Paul said that (more or less).  It's in Romans.  Observant guy, no?  Some of us ignore how our behavior affects the world.  Some of us worry about it.  Either way, something needs to be done.  This is a situation I would like to see discussed more than it is.  I need guidance. When I sit down in my car and debate turning on the air conditioner I am faced with the stark fact that I am a coward and need help to make the sort of change I believe in.  Will a new energy policy help us to dig out of cultural and economic norms more than a century in the making?

Who can provide some leadership on this?

Walk Score

Well, yes, it has been a long, long time.  I finished my DMin, however and am now--one hopes--more productive.  Yes, this is a ridiculous picture of me.  However, I am standing in front of the Hyde Park Union Church (UCC/ABC) in Chicago.  It has a "walk score" of 82 out of 100, which is pretty darn good!  In contrast, my neighborhood walk score is 52, which is not so great.  What is your walk score?  Check it out here.

Call of the Domestic?

A couple of days ago I was sitting at the parsonage typing up emails, thesis stuff, sermon notes and such, when I looked out my window and saw eight deer walking down my street!  I am bringing this to your attention because, honestly, this is not a good thing.  I realise that some folks like that about the 'burbs.  The presence of such beasts let's us feel "a little bit country," like we aren't destorying the environment with our living patterns.  Of course, the reason they are there is precisely because we are.  Their habitat has been drastically cut.  They are hungry.  This means they have to cross busy streets to find food on the town baseball diamonds and hope they can get back.  The parsonage, along with five other houses, is on a small island.  The Charles is on three sides and there is a small canal that completes the moat effect.  It's not much, but as a deer it is hard to get off without endangering yourself.

I grew up in the country--in Maine in fact.  Growing up people would ask me if I had ever seen a moose or a bear.  Of course I had!  However, I have seen a great deal of wildlife out on the roads down here and in the yards of people in Burbania.  I see more more of some species than I ever saw growing up.  Not bears, of course, because we would have the police shoot them, but deer certainly, foxes, too.  Again, it isn't that there are more, just that we have taken away their space.

I remember going to visit my wife's parents in suburban New Jersey and seeing literally scores of dead deer by the side of the road.  Back then I wondered if perhaps if the deer weren't actually the ones out of place.  I can't help but wonder that today, too.

Christmas Shopping II: For The Kids

Ok, so I have talked a bit about our family's plan for siblings and friends.  Perhaps not surprisingly, the conversations with my fellow adults were neither contentious nor traumatic.  The conversation with the kids, however, can be another story.  I started talking with the kids about this months ago.  In some sense they knew it was coming.  They read the paper and/or listen to the news on the radio.  They are smart boys and know that times are hard.  Why wouldn't we be "downsizing"?  Everyone else is.  In addition, as preacher's kids and regular denizens of the church school they have a pretty good grasp on the fact that Christmas is not their birthday. 

The relatively sustainable, inexpensive, and very local entertainment of Craft Sunday, Pageant Sunday, and Christmas Eve services create a narrative and a mood that beats the biggest tree, the flashiest lights, and the largest of presents.  Still, they want some presents (and a tree) and--as I have mentioned before--I do too.  In the end it was still rather difficult to hash out a series of  present "rules" that the kids felt was fair and respectful toward their sense of what the holiday means.  We did come up with a plan, however, that I thought I would share with you.

First, we developed a theme for our gifts to each other.  Most of our presents must be things that bring us together as a family.  Sorry, no "DS" upgrade this year.  Also, it should be something that in some way broadens our horizons as a family.  So we made a list that included travel options (Vermont, Quebec City, even a "hotel vacation" in Boston) and specific items like snowshoes and camping gear.  We are now in the process of working together to create our "package".  Today we all went over to our local downtown sporting goods store to price out snowshoes, tents, and other such gear.  The kids understand that there will be sacrifices and tradeoffs in our final plan, but they will be a big part of the decision making process.

Incidentally, we had a great time at the store.  Our primary target was the snow shoes (a popular family past time last year, so we should ultimately save a bit by not renting) and we recieved a great deal of no-pressure advice and information from the person helping us.  They are local, we are local.  They know we will be back. 

Of course, it should be noted that some of the "surprise" will be left out of the present openning ritual, but I am not sure that there is really all that much suspense left for kids in the "circle stuff in the catalogue" technique.  This way we get a chance to anticipate the holiday together and reflect on its meaning.  Anticipation and reflection sound a lot like Advent to me...

Christmahanukkwanzakah Shopping!

Here is a picture of my brother Matt demonstrating our Christmas shopping technique.  The location is a used bookstore in downtown Providence, RI.  Saturday marked the beginning of our annual ritual of gift purchasing for family and friends.  Sunday I preached about being intentional about our holiday purchases, making sure that our covenant with the earth does not get overwhelmed by our busyness and, therefore, eventually degenerate into late night runs to the Container Store for some overpriced plastic.

This is a real challenge, I think, for all of us.  We are busy!  We also want to do the right thing.  If our goal this year is sustainability, then this is where the rubber (or the money) meets the road, both environmentally and financially.  So let's get down to brass tacks.  What you cannot see in the picture is that Matt is practicing intentional shopping as per the rules of his big brother (me).  So, for what they are worth, here they are.

Proper Attitude

While some of the things I will mention may not work for you, there are two things that I think are crucial to practice.  First, we need to practice conversation.  I am one of those people who believes that it is important to give presents because they are symbolic representations of our connection to and relationship with each other.  However, I also believe that these gifts need not be expensive.  The key is to have a sense of the receiver's values.  It is also important that the reciever has a sense of yours.  We need to talk to each other about money, religion (these holidays are religious, right?), and politics.  As a gift-getter I do not want to get anything that seems to me like a repackaged jar of petroleum.  I also don't want you to go broke.  I also want you to know I will not be giving you petroleum and--though I love you--will not go broke either, assuming that you do not want to have me, my wife and my three kids living in your basement.

Second, we need to take our time.   This is why I start early.  As a minister I can safely say that I am one of the busy ones as we approach the major holiday milestones.  You may be busy, too.  Finding time now may seem hard, but it is not as difficult as trying to find a parking space at the mall after Black Friday.

Proper Game Plan:

So, after having "the talk" (or more than one talk for each of you distinct communities) it is time to lay out the ground rules for the gifts.  Here are my rules for purchases for siblings and other adults...

The presents I purchase must be at least two of the following three things:

Used:  You will again observe that Matt is at a used book store.  You can find some truly fabulous things there that--I promise you--you wouln't think of otherwise.

Recyclable: This is the rule for things that are purchased new.  Used gifts are being recycled!

Unique/Surprising:  The gift needs to be something that says something about you and about the person you are giving it to.  My goal is to have the receiver open the present and say "Wow, I never in a million years would have thought of this but it sure is cool!"  Obviously this is easier to do at places where they sell used books, crafts, and random inexpensive antiques (in some places they are called "junk dealers").

They must also fill both the following criteria:

They must be purchased locally.  By "locally" I mean in an independant store or other organization (my church sells calendars, for example) where you live or where you are shopping at that time.  I do not live in Providence, but I do not mind my money going to downtown businesses there.

They must be less than $12 per person!  OK, maybe $15 in some cases but the idea to to get something great!  A $9 gift that is unique says something better than a more expensive gift that says "lot's of people are getting this, so I thought of you".

Rules like this make the giving a game and a challenge, which makes it more fun....

Now, like I said before, there are different rules for different communities.  I have had the "talk" with my children and we have a slightly different plan for them.  Also, some folks really do not want more stuff, they might like a gift to a charity or social justice organization given in their name...or a plant.

Whatever the plan you come up with, I urge you not to give up or despair.  Gift giving (and receiving) is a way to say "I love you" and "you are not alone".  Both important expressions of the sustainable life.

Update:  Someone on Facebook asked me where making your own gifts falls in these guidelines.  My bad.  These are the rules I use and, as someone whith very limited creative skills, making stuff doesn't naturally occur to me.  However, they fit nicely, I think, as being certainly unique, usually recyclable, obviously local, and often inexpensive!

Closer to Creation II

Here is the second sermon in the "Closer to Creation" series.  This gets us up to speed.  The next one (they are always on the third Sunday of the month) is November 15.  They are much better "live" if you are around and feel like coming to church...

Closer to Creation II: Foundations of the Earth
(Delivered on October 18, 2009)
Rev. Adam Tierney-Eliot
Job 38:1-7, 34-41
Mark 10:35-45
Dawn Potter: Tracing Paradise

Since I committed to this sermon series

And to this idea of covenant with the earth
I have spent quite a bit of time
Exploring various ways in which we impact our environment
And various ways that I could change my lifestyle
To reduce my impact on creation

As a family we went through a phase of reducing our power usage
Basic things like turning off lights when we don’t need them
Turning off those items in our house (like our computer)
That switch to “standby” when they aren’t being used
And, of course, those fluorescent lightbulbs
We have reduced our transportation needs as well
With my wife, Allison working more from home
And cutting out the long commute to Quincy each day

But one of the areas that has been most interesting
Has had to do with food
Few things, after all, are as fundamental to our existence
As what we eat
And so we are thinking about perhaps making our next covenant
About eating and consuming
Around the holidays
Occasions that involve large meals
For friends and relatives
Perhaps one thing we could all do is try to see how local
We can get
Make this a “local Thanksgiving”
Set a geographic radius around Natick and try to keep to it
Examine where our food comes from, measure the distances
Experience as much as possible its source

Just outside the borders of our Boston suburbs
There lies an agricultural region
That could make use of our money and interest
And even here in town, with the Organic Farm
We are reminded of its presence


And while it may be too late to plant
It is not too early to start thinking
About other ways we can connect with our food
Like Community Supported Agriculture
Or CSA’s How many have heard of this? (show of hands)
How many of you are part of one? (hands again)
What it entails, basically, is the purchasing of a share
Of the crop of a local farmer
Which enables them to plan and plant
And it enables us to get local produce in season


Now, some of you already have one of these
And there is a wait list for many farms
But if you are interested in doing this in the spring
Please feel free to talk to me about it now
As our local association of churches in the UCC
Is currently working with a couple of farms to develop
Additional CSA opportunities in Natick and Framingham

So, these are ideas for the future
Some for the near future and others farther away
But my first covenant had to do with food as well:
I put in a garden this year

Now, I know that some of you have much bigger gardens
And some of you have plots at the Organic farm
But this was a rather big step for me
You see, there is a reason why I didn’t feel so moved
During the previous six years that I have lived in the parsonage
The fact is, I have a long history with gardens
And growing things
But it is a rather checkered history
Primarily marked by failure

Do any of you know what I am talking about?

More than once I have lost track of my potato plants
Thanks to a neglectful weeding schedule
And at other times the garden served as an extension
Of my unintentional ministry
To the deer and raccoons
And when I lived in Harmony Maine
My failures were popular topics of conversation
Among the locals
So –perhaps not surprisingly—
When I moved down south to Natick to serve this church
Gardening was not a priority


Now after my first modest comeback season
I can safely say that
I am still not very good at it
My garden has given me few culinary gifts
And probably hasn’t alleviated the need for even one drop of fossil fuel
But, of course, it was not a complete failure
We do not measure our success--we gardeners--
Solely based on yield
After all,  it brought me closer to creation
And it reminded me how little control over nature I really have

Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?...who laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?

God asks this both of us and of Job
And the garden asks this same question

I think that when people say things like “My Garden”
They mean it in the sense that I (or perhaps you)
Might refer to Eliot
As “My Church”
I am committed to it
I work to make it the best it can be
Within the bounds of my limited abilities
But it doesn’t always do what I would like it to
It is its own thing and grows according to its own internal logic
Its wisdom in the inward parts as it says in Job

In the same way I might be able to pick a pepper from my garden
And say “I grew this”
But really it grew itself according to its own pattern and needs
I was an interested party, an ally, a witness and protector
But I didn’t grow it...it grew
Where was I at the foundation of the earth?
After all, the garden is alive, and organic in a sense that
Will never be quantified by the FDA
So it is with our children, with communities like this congregation
And with us
Parts of creation/small pieces of a greater existence and a greater history

What we read and heard in Job today
Is a reminder that we are just passing through
What we think of as ours is not ours
No matter what we build on it
No matter how we landscape it
Ministers are constantly being reminded that
The congregations we serve were there when we came
And will continue on when we leave
So it is with the land
So it is with life, itself

We are renters on the earth
It isn’t our foundation that was laid
So perhaps we should be a little more concerned
With how we treat the place

Can you hunt the prey for the lion? What provides for the raven its prey, when its young ones cry to God, and wander for lack of food?

This passage in Job reminds us again
That we are not truly in control
We do not really have the right to place our priorities
Above that of the garden that sustains us

Our faith, points to this greater order
Not made by human hands or conceived by our philosophy
But like those disciples in Mark today
We often get so caught up with how far up the table we will sit
We forget our place, even though we try to do the right thing
My friend Dawn Potter, who used to laugh at my sad little garden
Wrote that John Milton, [that devout man], never got to the point of conceiving that nature might be valuable in and of itself.

And tells that story about how that poor seminarian
May also have missed this lesson
Perhaps, however, we can get to that point
And not just think it here in church
But believe it and feel it and enact it
In our own lives

There is a part of each of us
That knows this fact
And wants to prove that it is true
There is a part of us that yearns for a connection
Even in the midst of our striving
And sometimes it gets its way
Calling us outdoors

Now, I went Apple Picking recently
This wasn’t part of my covenant I just did it for fun
But while I was there
I couldn’t help but remember a time and a place
Where one was paid to pick apples, not the other way around
And that if I was picking them for myself
I got a discount for contributing my labor
But here and now we pay money for the privilege of picking them ourselves

And we do pay, often gladly
Grateful for the opportunity to connect
To converse with the land
Perhaps in that moment when we hand over the money
And get our bag, or sometimes just our parking space
We wonder to ourselves how something this essential to our lives
Has become purely recreation for so many of us
Replaced by other tasks that, ultimately may not really be as relevant as what we eat

And that question (or bundle of questions)
About what is essential
Brings us back to the covenant with the earth:
These covenants may not give us the answer to that question
A CSA share may not alleviate our responsibilities
Turning the heat down in our houses may not make us feel
That now we understand all there is to know about creation
But it will make sure we keep asking the questions about our place
And our role
And they will encourage us to keep on the path
To the foundations of the earth

Closer to Creation I: Sermon Notes

These are the notes to the first sermon in the "Closer to Creation" Series entitled "Something In the Water".  They are notes, which can make for tricky reading and absolutely horrific formatting in Blogger.  Sorry about that.  It is meant to be heard rather than read...

(Delivered September 20, 2009)
Something in The Water
Rev. Adam Tierney Eliot, Eliot Church, Natick, MA
Psalm 42
Genesis 1
Mark 9:30-37


Mary Oliver begins her "Morning Poem"

That we read today by saying that
Every morning the world is created
This is a great and hopeful idea
But if this is the case,

It while the world may be re-created
It isn’t always renewed it isn’t always healed
Most mornings the earth looks a bit too much like some of us
Which is to say a lot like we were the day before
But a little bit older, still tired, just wanting to go back to sleep


Who here has heard of “Mountaintop Removal”?
It is a very efficient way to remove coal
Where they make a mountain or hill about 500 feet shorter
To get at the deposits
Sending tons of rock and toxic minerals
Sliding down the side of the mountain into the lakes and streams below
Drying many of them up
And poisoning the water of the animals
And the human communities that live in the valleys
Of southern Appalachia


It all happens relatively quickly for the mining industry
So it is efficient in one way/ one human way/ one cheap way
As long as you don’t consider the collateral damage
Done to the world around it
And yet—even knowing the consequences--we keep on doing it
We keep on day after day, morning after morning
Allowing for this immense level of destruction
To fulfill our own energy needs
Pastor Peter Illyn an evangelical minister in Kentucky
And an environmental activist comments on the devastation
Wrought by this technique and our complicity in it
By asking us:
Have we really lost our souls? Have we lost our connection with God and with the miracle of life that the earth is a commodity to be scraped up?

These questions are in the form of a lament, really
And they could be asked of any number of environmental tragedies
Have we lost our connection with God and with the miracle of life?
Have we lost our connection with each other?

You see, we sometimes look at situations like this
Like Mountaintop removal
And see them as horrible situations that happen out there
But when we think about it we know
That the coal from those mountains
Fires the generators that power and heat our houses
Here in New England

We are connected, we are responsible
But the damage done to that connection has been great
So much so that we have a hard time finding it
And sometimes we can feel its absence
Even when we can no longer give it a name
No longer recognize our own isolation


Our world today is in the midst of an environmental crisis
And a spiritual one
Like the psalmist in our responsive reading today
Who equates his feeling of emptiness
With that of a deer looking for a drink of water
And finding that all the rivers have run dry
What should be abundant now seems to be gone
Deep calls to deep at the thunder of your cataracts;
All your waves and billows have gone over me


Now, our question today is a human one
Are we doomed to be forever isolated from each other
From nature, from the Divine?
Are we helpless before our own desires and perceived needs
That we ignore those of our children and of the rest of the world?
Or can we change?
We have grown accustomed to getting ahead
To surviving in a culture that measures success in individual terms
Of achievements of wealth, of material goods


This is not a new way of measuring our worth, either
It was the way in Jesus’ time as well
There is no nostalgic past
Free of exploitation
Just less efficient methods for exploitation in our historical past
There is no garden of Eden that we can get back to
From the beginning of history
We see that our very human nature
Sometimes pulls us away from one another
Just like what happens to the disciples in our reading today


So, if we cannot go back, (or if there is no “back to go to)
Is there hope that we can move forward?
Now, since you know that this is the first in a sermon series
I suspect that you know what I am going to say:
Yes, I believe there is hope,
For though there are many powers of isolation
In our world today
There is also the power of community
Just as our society has found ways to push us apart
We have also found ways to come together


Jesus sat his disciples down and told them
Whoever wants to be the first
Must be the last of all and the servant of all
We are here in a community of faith that recognizes this
And also sees
That even though the book of Genesis
Makes for very strange science
It also reminds us of a very basic truth
That we are all made from the same stuff
We all come out of the water
It is in us and we are in it
That is the essential message of our Water ritual today
We are in communion with each other
To some extent not because we chose to be
But because we always have been, because we must be
And I once again take the liberty of paraphrasing Thich Nhat Hanh by saying:
That We are all waves who have forgot that we are just part of the ocean


In our English language we call ourselves humans
And the earth is called the earth, the words are unrelated
In Hebrew—not just the ancient language of the Bible
But the Hebrew spoken by millions of Jewish people today
The word for human is Adam (one of my favorite words)
And the word for land  is Adamah
Literally we are the people, the things
That come up from the dust of the ground
Rabbi Arthur Waskow says that perhaps
We could all call ourselves "Earthlings"
To better get at our relationship
But I am afraid that I, at least,
Have seen too much science fiction for that


You get the point though, right?
Even as we are pushed apart by our individual needs
Even as the suffering of the earth seems somehow distant
We can only be pushed so far
Because our substance is the same
We are Adam and Admah
And we must ultimately find a way to heal the whole of creation
We have no other choice



I have one more Hebrew word for you today
And that is Berit or “Covenant”
The Teva Learning Center
A Jewish environmental and educational organization
Encourages its students to engage in a spiritual practice around
Berit Adamah or a “Covenant with the Earth”
And ask that they give up something
Some habit or lifestyle choice
That causes harm to the earth and isolates us from it
And try to give it up for at least six weeks


Through the course of this sermon series I will be practicing
A covenant with the earth and would love to have company
And I was thinking of you
For another thing that community does
Is generate both support and accountability
We can share, we can discuss, we can learn together
At least every third Sunday
You will hear from me, or Donna, or Matt
In other words:
We did not make our mess alone
So it will take all of us to clean it up


What I am proposing is a series of covenants
A series of beginnings for each of us
With each lasting six weeks
Some people choose to change their spending habits

Buying more local produce for example
Others find ways to walk or bike
Not just for exercise and recreation
But for practical transportation so they drive measurably less
Or we put in gardens and lower our thermostats
Or give up bottled water
The trick is to make a commitment to do something achievable
Stick to it for six weeks and then make another covenant
Always growing closer to creation
To being in communion with the Divine
With the Earth, and with each other


Let us take a moment now to consider
Berit Adamah and what that might mean in our own lives


(Silence)


In the Beginning when God created the heaven and the earth, the earth was void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said “let there be light” and there was light.

Renewal Project

This year I am (with the help of the other ministers at Eliot Church) preaching a sermon series entitled "Closer to Creation".  It is about those "principalities and powers" in our own lives that keep us from connecting to nature and living more sustainable lives.  This Sunday is the first one.  In my research and preparation I have found the material from the Renewal Project to be extremely useful for framing these issues in explicitly faith-based ways.  I realize that many of my clergy friends are already familiar with this group.  But I thought I would post the link anyway.

Renewal Project

Learning A Few Things

I haven't posted lately because I have been learning a few things.  First, I learned that I am not a very good gardener (yet, at least).  I should qualify that.  There is a way in which all that nature provides, coming from God as it does, is beyond my control.  All I can do is help (which, of course, is what a gardener does).  The tomato blight, for example, is not something that I can do much about.  But I do wonder what else I could have done.  I have also learned that one cannot dig oneself out of a hole all that quickly if the hole is as wide and deep as the one I have made concerning my relationship with the earth.   I have learned that time flies by, too.  This particularly true in early September, where the kid's needs and the church's needs take precedence over any actual life changes or meaningful (I should say "non-work related") reflection.  Ah well.  One step at a time.

I have also noticed, for what it is worth, that the landscape of Burbania can work to separate us from Creation.  This is not to say that there aren't beautiful vistas, etc. to look at.  I have merely observed that it is sometimes hard to notice them or to get a feal for the forces that created the river or the hill when it all seems so tame and convenient.  The landscape feels made for us rather than us for it.

I have a few pictures here of Maine where I grew up.  I am fortunate to own a piece of land on Lake George in Skowhegan.  It isn't all that large a lake, actually.  The hills aren't very high.  Yet it does a good job of putting us in our place. 

 

The first picture was taken at sunrise.  This second one was taken some time after. 

These living entities help us to remember our place and our connection.  Otherwise our motivation can flag a bit.  Nature exists "out there" for some of us.  We may go hiking or camping but, ultimately, it is a form a recreation akin to apple picking unless we find a way to get the created world back inside us and relate to it in sacred conversation.  The feeling of smallness and insignificance that we can feel at moments of connection with the earth is an important feeling.  It reminds us that life isn't all about us.  In fact our lives may not be as much our own as we would like to think and as we are told by a striving culture.

When we were up in Maine we did some hiking.  When we get to the top of some of these mountains we can look out and see miles and miles of ridges, forests and hills.  People and our problems seem to drop away in that moment.  Life is good and we are part of something greater. 

Of course, we can do this in even the most humanity-laden landscapes.  Perhaps it won't be quite like this view from Mt. Blue.  However, it can still be breathtaking in its own way.

Speaking of ridges and hills, check this out.  I found it across the street from the parsonage.  It was equidistant from the river and the garbage can...

Speaking of Runoff...

So I mentioned in my previous post about the Charles River Watershed people at Greenfest and how they helped me to grasp some of my own responsibilities toward keeping the river clean. I already do some of these things. My lawn is "organic". I let professionals change my oil, etc. Sadly however, my responsibilities do include picking up dog poop, which is not my favorite thing (sigh). With that still in my mind, I took a peek over across the street and saw this.

I took this picture last night from the porch of the parsonage. You can rest assured that the same image greeted me this morning, but with a slightly larger blast radius as squirrels and others visited the smorgasbord overnight. What happens is that over the weekend we get a large number of people who go to the park to either canoe or picnic (or--apparently--vaccuum) then, instead of "taking only pictures and leaving only footprints" they leave us--and the Charles--their garbage. That is the river about twenty feet in the background.

Now the town does its best to clean up after these folks and the core mess will be gone in a couple of days, bit I think it does serve to accentuate the seriousness of a certain crime that serves a a punchline as much as anything else in our conversation: littering. What do we do when there aren't enough garbage cans? Do we drop our stuff on the ground or do we put it back in the car and put in into our own garbage can when we get home? Presumably the garbage arrived in a car (or a boat, but the boats go on the top of vans and trucks when they are finished). Presumably we thought of that water bottle as ours before we were done with it. Why does it belong to the town, the squirrels, the park's neighbors, and--ultimately--the river now?

When I was a boy I did a lot of camping, hiking and such. Still do now that my boys can all walk. The rule was (and is) that if you pack it in, you pack it out. Shouldn't that still be the case?

More From Greenfest Boston

Here is a note for those who have to manage presentations at events: be like these folks and put "people people" in your booths. Also, make sure they know what they are talking about. As I mentioned, the car geeks were friendly and knew their stuff. Many of the other booths were a bit more spotty. I realize that a stranger talking to you can be disconcerting. Then again, if you are at a table trying to sell something it pays to be polite. One person even snarled at me!

That having been said, most folks were fine and got their message across. Perhaps the best presenters were with the Charles River Watershed Association (above). They had an excellent interactive demonstration showing the way that the Charles (and, for that matter, other rivers) manage to get polluted. We live about 40 yards from the river, so the presentation had a great effect on the kids. Also--considering the stated goal of the family project--it is one of the more obvious and practical considerations for me. We live right next to the Charles yet it is hard to remember how our actions may effect it. These good people furnished us with coloring books about water runoff and a Charles River recreation guide. Very classy.

These two pictures are of friendly and hard-working organizer types. I swear that the folks at Youth Build Boston (below) almost had me moving to Roxbury to put in roof gardens.

Also worthy of mention (but, sadly, without cool pictures) were the Mount Grace Land Conservation Trust, Mass Bike, and The Marion Institute (whose "Bioneers by the Bay" conference in October may be worth checking out). There were many other great conversations and useful tips and information, including one "organic lawn-care" specialist who said my plan of allowing diverse grasses and other vegetation (dandelions for the most part) to dominate my lawn was the good and ethical thing. Now that's a relief! I left my name just about everywhere. Perhaps over the next few weeks some these other organizations will get back in touch...

Charles River Watershed

Mount Grace Trust

Marion Institute

Mass Bike