Of Earth and Stars

At the end of last week, I saw that one of our regional air quality nonprofits was hosting a book club centered around Wastelands: The True Story of Farm Country on Trial. So I started the book on Sunday afternoon and finished it by late Monday night.

My review of this book will reveal my bias, but this was such an emotional read. My family moved to eastern NC in the early 1990s, when the tobacco industry was failing, and contract growers began signing up farmers to build the concentrated animal feed operations (CAFOs) that now litter the eastern side of the state. These are not your traditional farm, but warehouse-like operations that can hold tens of thousands of animals in what are essentially dark, dim sheds. Beautiful farmland and forested countryside made way for these sheds, but also, particularly for pig farms, the "lagoons" (open pits) where their liquid waste was pumped, stored, and eventually sprayed into the air as a means of "treatment". When I went to university to get my environmental sciences and engineering degree, I met then the researchers who were beginning to look at the health effects of the neighbors who had to live near these operations - typically disenfranchised black or Hispanic populations, but a wide variety of people who suddenly had to contend with the reality of odor, particulate, and spray and/or "rain" from these operations coming onto their property, absorbing into their homes and clothes, and generally making their lives unbearable. It turns out that literally breathing in pig sh*t results in increased headaches, nausea, asthma, sickness, and other health effects. This is aside from the noise of the trucks, the smell of the deadboxes (often open over-piled boxes of animal carcasses from animals that died on the farm) and the trucks that carted those remains to the feed recycling facility. But of course, if you spoke out against it, you were simply told "that's the smell of money".

It has been a fight for environmental justice that I have followed for over 20 years, lifting the voices of community activists, standing outside the legislature, and traveling to some of the darkest hellholes you can imagine. I have been fortunate to meet and know several of the names mentioned in the book along the way, and the book does a great service to those who have left us - Steve Wing, Elsie Herring, and Don Webb.

The book is non-fiction, but written as a novel, and brings to life the history and story of how one of the world's largest agricultural companies (now owned by a foreign conglomerate that finds it cheaper to pollute here) has ritually screwed over everyone involved (including the small farmers themselves), and the nuisance trials in which they were ultimately brought to task to answer for the mess they created (which still persists). The book follows the history of the industry through to the circumstances that set pace for a mass-action lawsuit that made it all the way up to the Fourth Circuit.

To be fair, the prose is flowery, at times a bit much, even if you can relax into a good southern metaphor-laden drawl. But the book is well-researched and lays out the lies of the industry and the powerful political players, the ways in which the state legislature attempted to shut down the court cases, the failures/weaknesses of the state DEQ, the false narratives that were promoted, as well as the amazing work of the lawyers, expert witnesses, and advocates for the plaintiffs.

It's a book of persistence and hope, ultimately.

One of my few quibbles with the book is that it continues to push the "clean CAFO" narrative - this is not something I believe is possible. You can't have a ratio of animals-to-people of 29:1 and expect that anything humane or sustainable is happening there. There are prices to be paid for that imbalance of nature, as we have come to learn over time from the fish kills that result from spraying the effluent into our streams and rivers, and the poisoned groundwater wells, not to mention H1N1 and other near-miss pandemics in our backyards. Although the book does highlight the cases of fraud, environmental negligence, and animal cruelty that lies beneath the industry, it appears to want to hope that we're simply one engineering solution away from a romantic sense of bacon. So, if you care for animals at all, and are familiar with the life they suffer, this will ring a bit hollow there.

But beyond that - this book is engaging, enthralling, and entertaining, and I definitely recommend for anyone not familiar with the brokenness of American agriculture, and how what you consume ties into the health and dignity of others.

thefridayfive

1. What's a food you liked when you were younger but don't anymore?

Oof, I'm not sure. Much of the food I ate as a child was that of a latchkey kid - processed or boxed stuff, Little Debbies as snacks, TV dinners were a frequent occurrence when my working mom was tired. I guess if I had to choose, I'd probably have to say pound cake with sugared strawberries. Now it is rather hard to find pound cake vegan, or at least one that tastes like I remember, but it's something that my grandmother always made and had around when I visited.

2. What's a food you used to not like but now you do?

Mmm, brussel sprouts, most likely, although it's been widely reported that this is not a cultural phenomenon and that the plants have just been bred better. But I also enjoy things like asparagus, and even kale (though well massaged with oil or acid), and I probably wouldn't have touch those as a kid. Collards, though I'm still picky over them - they must either be loaded into another meal or stew, or used as a wrap - the kind my family used to slow-boil to death still makes me shiver. Oh, and okra! Honestly, it boils down to the fact that a lot of the vegetables I ate growing up were usually steamed/boiled to a mush, which does not work for my in any way, but now I eat them roasted, grilled, air-fried, or in other ways.

3. What's a food you enjoy eating both warm and cold?

Mmm, I'm a weirdo, but either potatoes or tofu. Neither change very much in texture once cold, and they both tend to soak up the flavors of any sauce or herbs they are cooked with. Last night we had tofu wraps and I sauted the 'fu with hoisin, tamari, and sriracha, and it replayed well as a snack today.

4. Are there any foods you can't get anymore? Why not?

Well, it's been several years since I've been able to enjoy any food made by my mom. She made a homemade pimento cheese, and macaroni salads, and fresh salads, and a litany of desserts - and while I likely wouldn't eat many of those things now anyway, the grief lies more in knowing that I will never have the option to eat something she made again. And my mom was big into holidays and food and special occasions - it was one of her love languages, even though she was a type I diabetic. So the foods I miss are the foods that she loved making. Her zucchini bread - I kept a loaf in my freezer for nearly 2 years after she passed, and her canned salsa - I finally ate the last jar this year, and it was still delicious.

5. What's your favorite "breakfast for dinner" (or "dinner for breakfast") food? L. occasionally makes breakfast burritos that have a 'fu scramble and Gimme Lean sausage and peppers/onions, and he made a breakfast pizza not long again that is full of processed vegan meats that is very tasty, but not something I'd eat on the regular. One thing I frequently used to do for my kids, when they were smaller, was make pancakes for dinner, with margarine, peanut butter, and/or warm fruit compote and maple or berry syrup. We occasionally do this still when comfort food is called for. The lovely thing about pancakes is that the batter is versatile and can be cobbled together from dirt cheap ingredients. I think pancakes helped us get through some seriously rough times, so I will always treasure those little golden orbs.

The meal-planning and food shopping has been done for the week, with some grace as we have Friday evening plans and are hoping to host a small Friendsgiving next Sunday (which we'll shop for later in the week). After lunch, we headed out to the Bailey and Sarah Williamson preserve, since we didn't get outdoors last weekend. The temps dropped 20 degrees overnight and the high today was 55, with a steady cool breeze, so everything was very crisp.

Photo of a medium-sized pond with autumn-tired trees in the distance;
the sky is a brilliant deep blue that is reflected in the pond's surface.

Even with much of the fall foliage having dropped away, there are still plenty of interesting things to look at and explore. I'm trying to reprogram my dreading-winter mindset to look for the beauty that comes with the stillness and dormancy of the season, as well trying to learn about those plants and fungi that are sturdy enough to thrive through it. However, a lot of local trails/preserves have altered their hours for the slow season, and of course there is much less daylight, so we'll have to be more proactive about planning.

Other than those brief outings, I'm simply trying to rest up a bit before diving back into work tomorrow. I just barely started reading The Body Keeps the Score, which I have heard good things about, but haven't yet completed enough of to form a real opinion. I'm hopeful there will be something in that is helpful. I have a huge pile of books that are just-started, though, so we'll see how it goes. As we move into cooler weather, I am looking forward to curling up with more books.