The person I'm likely to be

I read these words attributed to the author Reynolds Price, when he was in his thirties; "This is it. I'm now the person I'm likely to be...from here to the end."

"Wow", I thought, "Could that even be true?" For most of us, so much changes over the next 40 to 50 decades. For some, including Price, devastating events change our lives in dramatic, unforseen ways. There could be great joys, or opportunities that open up an entire new world. For many of the young adults in this CNY town, at 30, they have done almost nothing other than attending school. Life, real life, has hardly made a mark on them yet.

So I began to wonder. Who was I at 30, and where am I now 3 decades later?

See the girl in the picture? She is a young farm woman with two preschool daughters, two teenage stepsons, a husband, a barn full of cows, and an off farm job. This relaxed moment is at Vacation Bible School, which she teaches while on vacation from her off farm job. What you can't see in the picture is our two girls dressed as honey bees. The VBS offering is going to Heiffer Project to buy hives of bees for needy families.

What I remember clearly from these times is how, about Wednesday, I would volunteer for all kinds of things, not realizing that my energetic feelings were the result of several full nights of sleep in a row. By Friday I would be having panic attacks at the idea of returning to my 3am job. In February of this year, overwhelmed with physical work, and lack of sleep, it was all I could do to NOT commit suicide.

Holiday Retail

Did I mention I hate retail?

Not completely of course, but I hate the idea that our duty is to shop. National holiday? Go shopping. Got a day off? Go shopping. Can't sleep? Go shopping.

Did I mention I work retail?

Your three day weekend, means I lose a day off, so you can shop.

That's not completely fair on my part.

 I lose a day off because one of my coworkers is on vacation. She wants a vacation when her family and friends are off work for the holiday weekend (go figure). They don't work retail. That's the way it works. If someone wants a day off, you cover them in the hopes that someday they will cover you. So in effect, you don't have any vacation - you would work fewer days in a year if you did not take your vacation. What you have is the opportunity to work more hours, so that someday, you can get hours off when you want them. Of course in the office I worked in, vacation meant, working like heck for 2 weeks to get everything done ahead of time before vacation, and then working like crazy to catch up once you get back. Sort of like housework when you go away for the weekend and leave your teenagers home, or your husband.
Wouldn't it be nice if there were a few days a year when everyone was off? We'll leave out religious holidays to be fair to everyone. Let's say one day a quarter.
Presidents' Day, Memorial Day, Independence Day, Labor Day and Thanksgiving. Maybe Thanksgiving is a religious holiday. I think of it as a National Holiday.  We could change that to Election Day.
Four days that no one works except emergency personnel. And let's compensate those essential people well for giving up their day off. Four days, to sleep late, relax over breakfast, put your feet up and read a book or the newspaper. Cuddle with your honey and your kids, or the dog and cat. Take a long soaking bath. Four days with out rushing around.

Song and Journey

One of my earliest posts was about a rock in a stream, the chaos it caused, and suffered.
Today I came upon this quote. It has a slightly different take.

I'm paraphrasing, and I'm not sure who said it, Marianne Williamson or Joseph Campbell, something like..

"When the shit hits the fan, you know you're work has started."

Sleep in the City

Sleeping in the city has proved to be a major hurdle for me. I live across the street from a bar, on a street that is heavily used by commuters, on a hill, with a stop sign. On a good day this means it will be quiet from around midnight until the newspaper delivery guy races around the block at 330. Then there is a break until 5ish when commuter traffic starts.

Wake Up and Smell the Coffee

I saw this ad for an activity to fund clean water projects, while raising awareness about poverty. The idea is to give up all the various beverages you drink in a day, and drink only water. Then you take the money you save and give it to a clean water project. Sounds like a great idea.
I drink coffee almost entirely, and I brew my own. I'm only spending about $10 a week, when I buy organic, Fair Trade beans, and then the cost of about a quart of milk a week. So, no group will be getting rich off of me. I figure with coffee at restaurants, etc, maybe $20 a week. That will be helpful to someone, and will break me of a reflexive coffee habit.
Actually doing this makes my coffee addiction sound worse than it is. The problem is that I can't drink anything else but plain water. I can't reach for tea, not even herbal, or juice or milk. I'm already cheating by putting Stevia leaves in my water.
So even though I went from 6-10 cups in a day, to 1 cup, my complaining makes me sound like a Heroin addict in withdrawal, to my family.
Here's a poem I wrote on day 1:

1030 and I am already unjazzed.

Give me decaf,

I'll be fine

I miss that steaming, black gold, love that

starts with the aroma

and the warmth goes from hands to face

down to my soul

eliminating stress

and pain.

What will I do now?

A cup of coffee, has been my reward for the early A.M. dog walk. I drag myself out of bed, get dressed, put on parka, gloves, hood and tour the neighborhood, knowing that at home the rich aroma of fresh perked coffee awaits me, and that body warming first cup. Coffee has been my reward for finishing onerous household tasks, completing paperwork, paying bills, shoveling snow. 

In the summer this would not be such a problem. 

The idea of a cold, icy, glass of water could be just as appealing.

Not so much in winter.

So, it's two more days to launch

and then I am off all beverages 

but water until April 8th. 

Who knows, by then, I might be a new person.

Untouchable

How often do you touch another human being? How often are you touched by another person?
Perhaps you are a parent of young children, or you have a lover, or you are a caregiver. This question then may seem very weird to you.

I am an untouchable. I am fat - who wants to touch that. I'm old, but not old enough to be considered non-sexual. I am a woman who has worked her entire life in a male dominated industry, where touch has become dangerous. I am a NY'er, our reserve is legendary. I am a recent emigre' so I do not have a history with the other folks in my community.

Listening to an interview with Russell Banks about his book Lost Memory of Skin, it dawned on me how easy it is for me to go a whole day without touching anyone. Not even accidently. Though I work directly interacting with the public, I mostly never touch them. If it happens it is the accidental touch of our fingers as I hand them their change.

How common is this? Certainly I can think of other outcasts in our community who probably find this to be true. The smelly homeless guy. The crazy street lady. But how common is this amongst people who seem to lead ordinary lives? And what does it mean for society that it is so prevalent?

I am nervous to mention that almost all of my human contact is with children. Will you assume I am a pedophile? Or will you recognize that I am a Grandmother whose grandchildren are still young enough to freely hug an old lady?

Mirror Image

I came upon this review for a new book, "The Woman in the Mirror" by Cynthia Bulik PhD.

Many women-regardless of income, size, shape, ethnicity, and age-are uncomfortable in their own skin. We fixate on our body image and try endless diets, implants, hair extensions, and new shoes, but it's never enough. The problem is that girls and women have been socialized to mistakenly conflate body esteem and self-esteem. Body esteem refers to how you think and feel about your physical appearance: your size, shape, hair, and features. Self-esteem refers to how you think and feel about your personality, your role in relationships, your accomplishments, and your values-everything that contributes to who you are as a person.

So far - so good.

The Woman in the Mirror goes beyond typical self-esteem books to dig deep into the origins of women's problems with body image. Psychologist Cynthia Bulik guides readers in the challenging task of disentangling self-esteem from body esteem, and taking charge of the insidious negative self-talk that started as early as when you first realized you didn't really look like a fairy princess. By reprogramming how we feel about ourselves and our bodies, we can practice healthy eating and sensible exercise, and focus on the many things we have to offer our family, community, and job. Bulik provides us the tools to reclaim our self-confidence and to respect and love who we are.

Wait - what was that?

By reprogramming how we feel about ourselves and our bodies, we can practice healthy eating and sensible exercise....              

Did anyone proof read this review?

So in the end - if you by this book - you too can be skinny and fit.

So much for disentangling our self-esteem from our body esteem.

Getting Over Married

Yesterday was my 34th wedding anniversary. I went to work. Took a nap. Went out for pizza with a friend and my granddaughter. Then came home and went to bed.
Beyond that - I obsessed over the idea that my husband, was blithely passing the day away with his new honey totally oblivious to the life he had thrown away.
Most of the day wasn't too bad. Interacting with customers kept my mind mostly off of the anniversary cards that I wanted to deface and send to him. The evening with my friend kept our conversation around local issues. And at first I was tired enough to sink into sleep, comfy under the quilt.
Then, after the initial exhaustion had worn away, came the tossing and turning. My daughters were out partying. With my blessing and encouragement at a charity event that I did not wish to attend. Loud music is not, and really has never been my thing. They are oblivious to the days significance, having long since moved beyond it.
Not me - oh no. I reviewed my wedding day, or rather that night. We spent our wedding night in my Aunt's camper van, on my parents lawn. We couldn't afford a honeymoon, and we needed to be around to do barn chores. We had planned our wedding to be between haying season and corn harvest. Weeks of rain had kind of messed that up,but our day turned sunny and nice, for our indoor/outdoor reception.
These years were supposed to be a return to our beginnings. A time when I could finally turn my attention back to my farm after retiring from an exhausting career that had turned completely sour. Instead, the rat bastard, stuck in the knife, twisted it and stood there smiling. Bitter? Yeah. I am.

There goes the Weekend

I was supposed to be in the Adirondacks by now. When the kids were little I'd have the gear all packed and the canoe tied to the top of the car or truck and we'd hit the road ASAP when work was done. We've even arrived at midnight and camped on shore, uncomfortable in the car, and paddled over in the morning.

Then things got complicated. Even as teenagers the girls had jobs which usually took over their weekends. Retail doesn't stop, so holiday weekends meant mandatory hours for the young staff. One daughter often worked in restaurants and they certainly don't close on summer holiday weekends.Then came grand-kids. Their schedule had to work in too, including getting Dad to give up one of his weekends.
Now one daughter doesn't want to go if all we are going to do is sit in the woods, so her daughter doesn't want to go if we're not going to the amusement park. An old story, but now that my daughter is an adult she can be adamant about it. So she and our car and my granddaughter have headed to NYC.

And me I'm heading off to work. Yeah. Crap.

Columbus Day - I'm outta here.

A tent by myself if need be. 

I'm gonna get out of the city and into the woods.

430 am cool and quiet

As the summer has waned and morning light has come later and later, so have I slept. This morning I woke early and so, fed the cat, made my coffee and walked the dog at 430. I'm so glad I did.
I've had several days of poor sleep due to the traffic outside my window. By the time the bar crowd finally makes its way home there are only a few good sleeping hours, except on every other Monday when the garbage trucks start early.
It was so nice out this morning. The air was cool and I made it all the way around the block before I heard my first car. From my porch, when it is quiet you can just hear the waterfall as background for the crickets and peepers. Since it is still dark now, the birds have not yet begun their song.
Soon one, and then another vehicle came by. The parking lot across the street is a meeting place for many contractors, so the diesel pickups are rampant. I don't know why, but those pickups are louder than dump trucks. Even a small car is disruptive, the squish of tires on the road and the rumble as the engine revs to bring the car up and over the knob at the intersection.
As the sound of the vehicle slowly recedes the song of the peepers emerges and you can hear the breeze and early morning rain on the leaves of the trees. By 530 the constant thrum of commuter traffic is enough to drive you inside. Even trying to have a phone conversation is impossible.
By 9 things have subsided a little. The neighborhood has emptied out and now it is generally delivery vehicles and buses. Still, the magic is lost. My brain takes on the hum of hubbub, and my pulse is up. No peace now until after midnight.

Down in CNY

I am incredibly depressed right now. I'm not sure exactly why, but the weather is likely to be a big part of it. As I have aged I have discovered that barometric pressure can really alter my moods.
There are a few social reasons for it also.
Last night a busload of people arrived at the bar across the street. These revelers were obviously already loaded and needed to go to a coffee shop, not somewhere to top it off with more booze. Of course it got loud. Since smokers bring their drinks out to the stoop to smoke and drink.
Sitting at my desk I became aware that one middle aged man had left the group and was accosting a group of young men. Apparently they had the temerity to try to walk across the parking lot on their way from the basketball court at the school, to their homes down the street.
One young man refused to be intimidated. He didn't holler back. He got on his phone and called his Mom. I went out in front of my house in case the intoxicated person got pushy. He was being energized by his friends up at the door to the bar. Finally he went back to them and I went up on my porch.
The young man waited in front of a neighbors house for his ride.
After a few minutes Mr. Intoxicated realized the kid was still there. He started yelling obscenities and I told him to watch his mouth. At that point my neighbor who was watching from her living room quietly said she had called the police.
Four squad cars showed up. By that time the young man's ride had come and gone, and the rowdiness was the upscale, drunken white folks from the bus tour. I'm not sure what came to pass but they were all asked to go inside since drinking on the sidewalk is technically not allowed.
Need I mention who was white and who was not? Who was from the neighborhood and who was probably former University grads who think they own the world because they can afford to rent a bus for a day of revelry? Yeah I didn't think so.

The other thing that has me pissed off is this stupid recurring post on Facebook, often all in caps.

Thank you Florida, Kentucky, and Missouri which are the first states that will require drug testing when applying for welfare. Some people are crying and calling this unconstitutional. How is this unconstitutional? It's OK to drug test people who work for their money but not those who don't?… Re-post this if you'd like to see this done in all 50 states and Canada!!!

or this one

F YOU CROSS THE N.KOREAN BORDER ILLEGALLY~YOU GET 12YRS HARD LABOR! IF YOU CROSS THE AFGHANISTAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU~GET SHOT! IF YOU CROSS THE.U.S.BORDER YOU GET~A JOB~A DRIVERS LICENSE~FOODSTAMPS~WELFARE~A PLACE TO LIVE~HEALTHCARE~HOUSN~CHILD BENEFITS~EDUCATION N TAX FREE BUSINESS FOR 7YRS. NO WONDER WERE A COUNTRY DROWNIN IN DEBT!! RE~POST IF THIS PISSES YOU OFF!! 

 

Yes, this post pisses me off. 

What is it with the war on poor? You must be a drug crazed, lazy assed criminal, and of course, if I'm wealthy it must be because GOD has shone his golden light of glory on me because I am such a wonderful person.

sheesh

What cost success?

What does it mean to be successful? From a biologist's point of view it means to live long enough to successfully reproduce. For a species it means having enough members successfully reproduce so that the species continues. Similarly for a tribe, or herd, it means to have enough members to continue.

I have a cousin who runs his own business. It's small. Often struggling. He could probably do better financially working retail. But he loves his work. He loves his work, he pays his bills, and he has enough for some of the fun things in life. Isn't that success?

Oh - and he makes the world a little better, happier

or more friendly - every day.

I understand his house is not up to par with what most folks think is necessary (never seen it for myself). Does that matter? If it's adequate for him and his spouse, isn't it a success?

When I retired from my high pressure job I made a choice to live well within my means. My basic needs can be covered by my small pension. I have a part time job which provides me with food, clothing, entertainment. In this economy I chose to work part time so that someone who had a family to care for could have the full time job I might otherwise take.

Am I not successful?

I met a man through my work who gave up working. He gave up the constant struggle and pressure of working and is happier for it. I hope to speak with him again. I'd like to know more. I think he meant he had enough to provide for himself, and so he stopped trying to scramble up that ladder we call success.

We keep hearing about the death of the middle class. Maybe we should let it die. Corporations have power over us because we are scrambling to achieve a certain level of living that we have been trained to believe is success. And it is never ending. As soon as we get that house in the good neighborhood, the SUV and the golf clubs, we see something else that we "need".

I recently read an article about Endicott Johnson, a CNY shoe factory. The owner felt that his workers should be well paid, have benefits and that he should contribute to the community. Interestingly the union was suspicious of this. The union felt these perks were intended to make the employee feel grateful and therefore indebted to the company.

I can tell you that a good job is its own shackle. If you hate the job, or the job becomes oppressive or abusive, it is difficult to leave because, where will you find another job that pays as well or has the same benefits.

Maybe we would be better off, emotionally and socially if we simply called their bluff. What if we were content with what our grandparents or great grandparents had. Do we really need more than a sturdy roof over our heads, a warm bed and a chair to sit in, enough food to keep us healthy, and the proverbial pot to piss in?

If we let go of the race, stop running the treadmill, "the man" won't be able to Lord it over us anymore. Instead of going with our plate in our hand and begging for more bread, he'll have to come to us and say "mow my lawn, polish my silver, please". And if we aren't stressing over that next car payment or getting the new xyz phone, we can think about it, consider it, and say yes - or no - depending on our needs or wants.

Certainly our clamoring for the good life has been detrimental in the long run. The quest for stuff has left us with huge garbage piles, chemical waste leaching into our water, traffic and bad air, and less time than we'd like with our family. The stress itself is killing us, and sending us stumbling after the pied piper of big pharma, big food etc.

As I made dinner last night my family eschewed the TV for the front porch. My granddaughter rode her scooter around the block and entertained some passing friends. Neighbors out walking their dogs stopped for a chat. And my daughter was able to squelch a particularly dangerous form of entertainment some youngsters have been subjecting the neighborhood to.

Seems like that is a better life than the one found in front of a 60" TV with surround sound.

All You Can Be

I was talking with a compatriot several decades younger than myself about the messages we get as children. I wondered what the vagaries of difference in the message, if any, might be between those who grew up in lower and middle income areas, and those who grew up amongst the top of the ladder both economic and social. The conversation took an interesting detour.
I was talking about the message that "you can be anything you want to be", "you can do anything", given hard work and dedication.
This message rang loud and clear in my childhood. It was everywhere, from school to scouts, church to TV programs. Yes I knew that I was probably never going to be an Olympic gymnast -but- the apple hung out there IF you cared enough and worked hard enough, you could try.
That was even the patriotic message, that in the US you were free to try. In my day there were even scholarships and grants to make that college somewhat within reach. Or you could work your way through.

My friend didn't get the same message. The message was there , but half-hearted. Something you said to kids, but didn't really believe. I'm trying to remember TV from the 80's. Was it part of the message there?

Now I went to school during a wonderful, inspirational time in US history. JFK, Martin Luther King, the Feminist and Civil Rights movements, NASA put a man on the moon. Many of the people of my parents generation were the first to graduate High School and thanks to the GI Bill many had gone to college. And of course our economy was growing.

My friend went to school after these great leaders had been killed. The civil rights movement was stuck in recalcitrant racism. Income levels were flat for the average worker, but we hadn't yet defined the problem (Reagan was telling us we were better off). Feminism had put women to work, but hadn't leveled the playing field either in wages or home and child care. Divorce had soared and a generation learned that families and marriages were easily broken.

I grew up with Leave it to Beaver, my friend with The Simpsons.

Are these the reasons for our difference in perception, or was I simply naive and my friend more cynical? I'd like to hear from folks of all ages. What was your experience as a child?

Water Water Everywhere but No Place to Swim

I live in the center of the Finger Lakes Region of NYS. At the tip of one of the largest lakes that is fed by a multitude of streams which cascade down the hills cutting gorges which end in streams flowing through town to the lake shore. As a matter of fact, I live within 20 blocks of the lake shore, and within a block of one of these splendid creeks.
The city or town has a beautiful large park at the foot of the lake with a long sweeping shoreline. Swimming has not been allowed there since the 1960's when a child drowned because the turbidity of the water prevented him from being seen. I have not been able to find via Google search the cause of that pollution.
The myriad creeks are all walled off from the public. Some of this is natural from the creeks cutting deep gorges into the shale formations. This loose shale is a dangerous climb though many do it every day, Perhaps because of the lack of safe access provided? In other areas cement walls have been built presumably to maintain flood control and to provide a strong and wide roadway for cars where once were narrow lanes to houses along the creek.
The creeks could provide numerous small swimming holes for all the neighborhoods in the community. Not great swimming but a place to cool off and relax with the kids. Instead the city has two crowded pools. One actually in town, the other in the outskirts, across a major highway and through a difficult intersection. Not the best place for those of us who choose to live the car-free life.
There are numerous State Parks in the area, but the powers that be, in their wisdom, stopped running busses to them, or the busses only run during the work day.
There are two places where I believe swimming is technically prohibited but apparently ignored. One at the foot of a waterfall on the edge of the city but within the downtown neighborhood, and the other further out along the lake. Many folks use this access when the weather is too hot to handle. Surprisingly the lake access is near a new facility that many folks feel contributes to the pollution and specifically the turbidity of the lake. Go figure.
I had assumed that one reason for the lack of access had to do with municipalities knee-jerk fear of law suits. We are always told that we can't have this or that because of "safety issues" that might cause "law suits" and increase "insurance premiums". Yet these access points to swimming have been used for generations and the city, town and county still stand. The falls access is sometimes closed for emergencies when a body flows downstream from a more hazardous location. Perhaps safe access to more locations would prevent most of the accidentals.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

I went to see the Swedish movie "Män som hatar kvinnor", based on the book "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" by Stieg Larsson. I had read the book a year or so ago, and had heard about the film from co-workers, so I knew it was a disturbing and violent film.
I am not sure how I would have reacted if I had not read the book. I loved the film. What I liked most is that the film was gritty. Unlike American films the actors had flaws, they did not look plastic. Nor did the scenery. The buildings looked as if they actually existed warts and all. The movement of the characters looked real.
One effect of this reality was to portray the sexual violence as violent. To my sensibilities this film evoked the very disturbing nature of sexual violence. This film has a scene of sexual violence against a man. It is very graphic.
Watching that scene made me think about why men just don't grasp the reality of sexual violence aginst women. I realized that it is because most men do not experiance it. If you are a woman who is fortunate enough to have not been raped, assaulted or abused, you most likely know several women who have.

According to RAINN: The nation's largest anti-sexual assault organization.

1 in 6 women will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime. (1 in 33 men)
Every 2 minutes someone in the US is sexually assaulted.
44% of sexual assault victims are under 18.
15% are under 12.
Only 6% of all rapists ever spend a day in jail.

See the film. Afterward, think about that scene. Look around you and think of 1 in every 6 guys you know having experienced something akin to that. Then think about how you would feel if women routinely sat around masturbating to those images. Then you will have a slight idea of what it means to be a woman in the US and trying to have a healthy relationship with sex.

Under the Flood

Water defines me in many ways. I am drawn to water like a magnet. Only common sense keeps me from jumping into open water in freezing temperatures, or when it runs in a torrent. I feel a connection with the rocks bravely shouldering the force of the current.
Each day I pass over a creek on my way to and from work. Most days it is a quickly moving but very shallow stream, the pebbles clearly visible. Ducks float on its surface. For a few short days of spring I can watch fish struggle upstream to spawn.
This week the stream has been a raging torrent of muddy water as the warm weather has melted the foot of snow we had piled up from the last snow storm. Even the larger rocks are hidden under the dark water.
This made me think of how we feel overwhelmed by circumstances in our life. We want to just give up because the fight seems so hard. But we musn't forget that we are making a difference. Those rocks are changing the course of the flow, even when the water is so deep we can't see it, and so are we.

Porcine Concentration Camps

I love pork, and I love pigs. Pigs are wonderful creatures. They are smart like people, and expressive like people, they like to cuddle like people. I came upon this picture from a friend's Facebook post.
After looking around the net I discovered that in many commercial industrial pig production facilities (I won't call them farms)sows are kept in crates like this most of their life.
Sows are put in farrowing crates when they have a litter. I knew about that. It helps to protect the baby pigs from crushing. They are artificially inseminated very soon after birth. When the piglets are weaned the sow goes into a crate like this. (previous practice had them go into pens w/ other sows, and they were not bred again until AFTER the piglets were weaned)

I will be carrying this picture with me. Every time I am tempted to eat bacon or sausage or a pork roast, I will look at this picture. If the pork is not verifiably from a farm that raises its pork in a compassionate, sane manner - I won't eat it.

No Profiling

I hate to admit I'm prejudiced -but-
This morning I was at the laundromat. It was just me and some redneck housepainter doing his wool socks, flannel shirts and overalls. He had a crewcut, looked like he knew his way around a beer bottle and was wearing a carhardt jacket.
I didn't have anything to read so I turned on the TV. One of the public access channels was broadcasting the audio of Democracy Now. I sat down to listen to Amy tell about the travesty of justice in the Blackwater scandal, and was sort of lost in thought when the redneck says, "You watchin' this?"
Immediately I expected him to start complaining about the show and how it was bullsh** and unpatriotic and could he change the channel.
Instead he says, " kinda depressing isn't it?".
Well for the next half hour we had a conversation about the economy, industrial farming, manufactured food products, etc. We agreed that the problems were so complex it was depressing because it was hard to figure out where to start cleaning up the mess.
One place I'm going to start is on myself. I know better to assume that a redneck (a working class rural white person actually) is necessarily not progressive thinking, intellectual or liberal. For crying out loud - I'm a rural working class white person!!! So are most of my friends and family!
From now on I'm going to join in conversation with folks. Get to know a few more people and learn from everyone.

My Christmas wish

Many classic Christmas cards have a scene like this on the front. A peaceful countryside showing us the beauty of God's world leading us to be thankful for our many blessings

There are those who want to change our rural landscape. Corporate interests who feed on the economic misfortune of those in rural America, promising financial gains at little or no cost.

They like to promise a lot. Money. That you'll be able to use your land for farming still. That they'll clean up after themselves.

What they don't tell you is what the process entails.

Huge drill sites where millions of gallons of water, sand and toxic chemicals will be injected into the ground under high pressure. Roads built across your property to allow access for trucks to travel in and out constantly. Lagoons to handle the toxic waste water that comes back out (some of it stays in the ground following fracture lines into the ground water.
Noise 24/7 from drill rigs, compressor buildings, truck traffic, etc. Drill sites flooded with high intensity light disturbing the silent night.
They don't tell you that these rigs can be built anywhere on your property that they want to put them - including in your front yard.



They don't tell you they have intentions to decimate your entire region with thousands of these drill pads.




Please keep New York State a beautiful place to live.
A healthy place for us to raise our children and to grow healthy, safe food for your table.




Visit Shaleshock.org for more information and to find ways you can help. Write Gov. Paterson, your state Senator, Assembly person, Congress person and US Senator and ask them to ban drilling in the Marcellus shale.

Not Blind but Still I Cannot See

In "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek" Annie Dillard cites "Space and Sight" by Marius von Senden. When safe cataract surgery was developed groups of doctors traveled the country performing the operation and giving people the gift of sight for the first time in their lives.
These doctors often kept notes on their patients experience of distance and depth both before and after the surgery. These people had to learn about sight as we did as infants and have long since forgotten. Infants cannot communicate their discoveries to us so we are left to guess what they are "seeing".
Patients had a difficult time with the perception of depth and distance. It was difficult for them to understand that the world took up space beyond their visual world. The idea that some thing could be behind another object was novel.
I think of a baby learning about it's hands. They often hit themselves in the face multiple times, then cry in outrage at the self-inflicted pain. I always thought that they were learning that the hand they saw was their own. It seems they also could be learning how far away that visible hand is.
The child I babysit is learning about Mom being away in stages. First he realized that when he saw me it meant Mom was going away. Then he learned that that the kitchen is where she disappeared. Now he knows that she will come back from there too.
Is it possible that some people cannot grasp the concept that we must keep our planet healthy because they lack a type of depth perception? They cannot see ahead to where their actions lead. They cannot see that their loved ones will be in that distant world. Perhaps their depth perception is so low that they cannot feel compassion or empathy.

They are not blind but still they cannot see.