Each state we've entered, we've read the Wikipedia entry for, which has been so much fun. We've learned about the mottos, demonyms (look it up!), state dances, and more; we've learned about all the famous people who were born or lived in those states; we've learned state capitols and vital statistics and economic drivers and histories of each one-- it's been great.
We arrived last night back in suburban Chicago after a mad dash across the country in six days. Last Friday, August 20, we reluctantly left the Left Coast, passed through Portland to pick up a few items we'd left there (subconscious desire to return), stopped in Pendleton, OR for ice cream, and stopped in Boise, ID for the night.
The next day we visited a great craft/farmer's market in downtown Boise, and then headed to the Hagerman Fossil Beds National Monument. We stopped there at the National Fishery that raises one million steelhead each year that they then release into the Idaho River.
This was a particularly fascinating place to me, even though there's not a ton to see. That the place even exists is interesting; pretty cool that there's an effort to replenish the ecosystem destroyed by the damming of rivers. I also think a lot about industrial fisheries and have wondered what they look like-- now, I have an inkling.
At Hagerman itself, the little visitor's center turned out to be the most interesting part: it's the only place in the park where you can actually see fossils! Visitors are really only permitted to see much of the rest of the massive park from look out points and roads; we did see the remains of the ruts caused by wagon trains from pioneers on the Oregon Trail and read about those brave souls. Little did we know that the day after we visited, three quarters of the park would burn in a forest fire!
We ended the day in Salt Lake City, walking around the Temple by night,and saw some spectacular fireworks from the State Fair. Sorry once again that we didn't have more time to explore this interesting town. We thought about attending the performance of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, but Lev didn't quite make their minimum age, so we listened to the live broadcast on the radio on the way out of town!
Sunday, August 21, we drove to the spectacular Arches National Park, where we hiked around the North and South Windows, Turret Arch, and Double Arch, and took some great pictures of "The Three Gossips," "Park Avenue," and "Balanced Rock." What an incredible place... and we basically just happened on it as we glanced at the map a few days before looking for potentially interesting things to see. On the way out of the park, we chose to drive the long route on scenic route 128, which follows the Colorado River for more than 40 miles. It was another stunningly beautiful drive, and along the way we found Big Bend Bouldering area, a well-known place for rock climbers to practice their craft; we all tried out our skills and had a lot of fun.
We had dinner in Grand Junction, and drove into Aspen in the dark, arriving at a beautiful condo that some wonderful friends generously offered for us to use. We all collapsed, exhausted from another great day.
Monday the 23rd, we awoke to look out on the spectacular view of Aspen Mountain from our balcony. We headed to the Silver Queen gondolas to ride up the 3,000 feet to the top, where there were all kinds of fun kids activities. After a bit, it started to rain, so we went into the Sundeck to eat lunch and wait out the weather. When the rain stopped, we headed back down to town. We drove from there to Aspen Highlands. We took a shuttle from there to Maroon Bells park, site of stunning scenery-- some of the most photographed scenery in America, apparently, and we could see why. Heading back into town, we had dinner at Boogie's Diner, and ordered our milk shakes extra-thick. Back at the condo, the boys and I had a late night swim, and then warmed ourselves by the fireplace poolside-- what a great way to end the day!
On Tuesday, the boys surprised us by making breakfast. We poked around town for a bit, and then headed to Basalt, CO to see David Segal and Rollin Symmons. (David was our student rabbi for the past two years, and David and his wife were just hired to be the rabbi/cantor team at the Aspen Jewish Congregation.) We saw their beautiful new home, and had a great lunch at a local Mexican place. They showed us the library which has the best view in the world, and told us about a great playground where the boys let off some steam. We came back to Aspen, stopped by the synagogue for a little tour, ate some gelato at Paradise Bakery, and then went on a lovely hike on the Rio Grande Trail near the Aspen Center for Environmental Studies. We reconnected with David and Rollin for dinner at Little Annie's, then back to Paradise for more gelato (hey- we're on vacation!), and then brought them back to the condo for wine and more chatting-- it was terrific to see them and see their great new digs.
On August 25th we left Aspen, driving over Independence Pass at over 12,000 feet. We actually "lost" 11,000 feet as we ended the day in Omaha, NE at around 1,000 feet above sea level! On the way, we saw a marmot and a prong-horned antelope. We stopped in North Platte, NE at the Golden Spike Visitor's Center and Observation Tower-- the Bailey Yard of the Pacific Railroad-- in short, the world's largest rail yard. It was quite impressive; we all love trains, and this was a train-yard on steroids-- 8 miles long and 2 miles wide! The observation deck is staffed by volunteer train buffs who will talk your ear off about everything happening with the yard.
Thursday, we passed through Iowa-- our 18th and final new state on what will soon be 7,600 mile journey. Looking at a map, it didn't seem that there would be much to see along the road; what I really wanted to do was to see the Field of Dreams movie site, but it was simply too far off of Route 80. Elyssa located the National Balloon Museum and Hall of Fame, where we saw some cool hot air balloon related gear and memorabilia, and we also met some very nice people who told us about 10 more things we should see in Iowa-- turns out, there ARE things to see in this state; we'll have to come back. We had a dinner date to make with my mom back in Chicago!
Today we spent the penultimate day of the journey chilling in Chi-town-- got a long overdue oil change for the car, got hairs-cut for all the boys, took a lovely walk around Lake Katherine had dinner with my my aunt, my cousin and his kids. We just needed a relaxing day before the last long-haul-- 12 hours of driving to New Jersey tomorrow. We wanted to show my mom the pictures from our trip, so we took the SD card from our camera to Walgreen's to get the pics put on a CD. Turns out it took 3 CDs for all of them and, incredibly, randomly, there were a total of 613 pictures from the farm, camp, and our trip-- a very fortuitous Jewish number!
I've run out of superlatives to describe this journey, and this first summer of my sabbatical generally-- I know I've overused them all. It must be time for me to go back home, and to return to the work I love so much. I think it will truly take some time for all of these experiences to sink in, but I do feel renewed and refreshed for that great work and life that we've built these last 9+ years. Elyssa and I will celebrate our 18th wedding anniversary on September 6, and I am so thrilled that now more than half of those years have been spent in greater-Mahwah. I am immensely grateful for this time away, and will look forward to the second half in Jerusalem next summer, and I also feel blessed to be where I am in my life, both personally and professionally.
My staff gave me a bunch of parting gifts on my way out in May, but the one I've cherished most of all are a pair of little sparkly pink shoes. They told me that I should remember that "there's no place like home." After 6 weeks in a tent, 2 weeks at camp, and 4 weeks sleeping in some 14 different beds, I can honestly say that I'm ready to click those heels!
Friday, August 27, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Shabbat Musings-- from June 29, 2010
Today I was reminded about why I am a proud Reform Jew.
I slept gloriously late on this Shabbat morning. I got up and found my way to the kitchen, where an intense discussion was underway. It seems that the cholent pot, containing the slow-cooking traditional Shabbat stew, had been set on “low” before Shabbat, and there was concern that it had not cooked enough, and wouldn’t be fully cooked through for lunch, three hours hence.
A debate was raging. Could someone go over to Pearlstone, find a two-year old, bring them to the kitchen, and place them in front of the cholent pot until they happened, in innocent play, to turn the pot from low to high?
The discussion went on and on as I sat and ate my Cheerios. How old could the child be? Three was deemed too old, as they would no longer simply play, but need to be told what to do, and it was forbidden to instruct someone to turn the heat up, because it’s against Jewish law to benefit from the product of intentionally telling someone to violate Shabbat. In good halakhic form, one person told a story of a time when they were in a house where a major fuse blew, and one of the heads of household held a small child in front of the fuse box and said something like, “wow, Sammy, do you see anything to play with?”
Then, a woman in the process of conversion to Judaism said that she has to do one thing each Shabbat to violate the laws of the day, and she’d be willing to turn the pot up. Another lengthy discussion ensued, in which it was established that as long as no one had asked her to turn the pot up, and as long as it would redound to her benefit (ie. that she herself would be eating the cholent), the rest of us, if we happened to benefit from her self-interested actions, would be fine to consume it. She went and turned up the heat.
Having listened to what seemed to me a crazy conversation, especially in light of the fact that there is a ton of other food available for consumption in the kitchen, I blurted out something I now regret in front of the gathered group of 5 or 6 of my fellow intentional-community cohorts: “This,” I said, “is why I am a Reform Jew.”
I now sit here typing away furiously on this box that halakhah prohibits me from using on Shabbat, feeling terrible about having uttered what must have sounded a horribly judgmental statement. I really and truly feel bad—it was unlike me to do something like that.
It’s not an excuse, but I know that whatever my ideal Shabbat looks like, it’s not in that discussion. I get turning the cholent on and then not doing any formal cooking on Shabbat—I actually really like to idea, and intend to try it when I get home. I get regretting that it was set on low, and bemoaning the fact that what should have been outstandingly tasty beans and potatoes will alas go to waste; this fits in with a religious ethic of letting go of some sense of control on Shabbat. What I don’t get in any way, shape, or form, is how luring in an unwitting baby into the kitchen, hoping (but not asking in any way) that the child might accidentally turn the pot up makes any sense at all. What I don’t accept as a part of my halakhah is how the concept of a Shabbes goy can be acceptable Jewish ethics. I admit that, early on in the conversation, I had half a mind to just go in and turn it up.
But if knew one thing, it was that I wasn’t going to be the Shabbes Reform Rabbi. I like intellectual discussions and debates as much as anyone. But to me, there’s a point where the discussion has to end. Either someone turn the pot up, or get out the cold (but yummy) pasta from last night. But if ritual practice in meant to lead to righteous living in the larger world, what are we teaching when we ask (in however veiled a way) our two year olds and our potential Jews by choice to do what we ourselves are unwilling to defile ourselves by doing?
Let Shabbat be a special time for honesty and straightforwardness in our dealings. Let it be a time of simplicity rather than intense complexity.
What a strange people we are...
A Beautiful Day in Cannon Beach
We visited the Tillamook Cheese Factory today, had a tour, and bought a bunch of cheese to take home. We then had Tillamook ice cream for lunch, which was a fabulous vacation treat.
We then made our way to Cannon Beach, the most charming and low-key little town we've encountered on this Left Coast. We walked along the beach for more than a mile out to Haystack Rock, an incredible outcropping made famous in the movie The Goonies. We explored the vibrant tidal basin along the side of the rock, and, guided by knowledgeable volunteers, we saw starfish sea anemones, and barnicles snacking away in the low tidal waters. It was really an amazing experience.
We then made our way up the beach a bit and pulled out the kites we had bought yesterday in Seaside for the boys, and they had their first ever kite flying experiences-- what fun! They were so proud of themselves; it was so windy we were a bit worried that Lev might fly away, but it all worked out well-- it was a tremendously beautiful, if brisk, day on the beach. Then to dinner in town and desert at Bruce's Candy Shop-- what fun!
Now I'm sitting and writing on the porch of my aunt and uncle's house, watching the sunset as a big sea bird has come to perch on the railing of the porch-- perhaps he's reading over my shoulder!
Tomorrow morning early we head out, back towards home. We'll stop in Portland to pick up a couple of items we forget there (a running theme of our trip!), and then on to Boise, Idaho.
We then made our way to Cannon Beach, the most charming and low-key little town we've encountered on this Left Coast. We walked along the beach for more than a mile out to Haystack Rock, an incredible outcropping made famous in the movie The Goonies. We explored the vibrant tidal basin along the side of the rock, and, guided by knowledgeable volunteers, we saw starfish sea anemones, and barnicles snacking away in the low tidal waters. It was really an amazing experience.
We then made our way up the beach a bit and pulled out the kites we had bought yesterday in Seaside for the boys, and they had their first ever kite flying experiences-- what fun! They were so proud of themselves; it was so windy we were a bit worried that Lev might fly away, but it all worked out well-- it was a tremendously beautiful, if brisk, day on the beach. Then to dinner in town and desert at Bruce's Candy Shop-- what fun!
Now I'm sitting and writing on the porch of my aunt and uncle's house, watching the sunset as a big sea bird has come to perch on the railing of the porch-- perhaps he's reading over my shoulder!
Tomorrow morning early we head out, back towards home. We'll stop in Portland to pick up a couple of items we forget there (a running theme of our trip!), and then on to Boise, Idaho.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Looks Like We Made It!
We made it across the country! As the trip odometer clicked over to 4000 miles, we arrived today at 10:45 a.m. in Canon Beach, OR on the Pacific Ocean to stay for a couple of days with my aunt and uncle.
We've had a fabulous week in Portland, visiting with Elyssa's cousins and exploring that great town. We cooked and ate our own pancakes at Slappycakes, ate the weirdest, wonderfulest donuts at Voodoo donuts, drank the world's best coffee (?) at Peets, had tea at the fantastic China Gardens, spent not enough time at Powell's Books, bought a cool new purse for Lys at Queen Bee, explored the Hollywood Farmers' Market, drank from the Benson bubblers, acquired fabulous treasures at the Spoonman, got a year's supply of grains at Bob's Red Mill, rode the Max, and learned alot at the World Forestry Center-- what a tremendous week. We spent great time with family we hardly knew before, and reconnected with one of my oldest friends and her new husband. If we didn't already have such a great home on the other coast, Portland might call our names!
Now we're on to the shore (no, not the Jersey shore!) for a couple of days of exploration, kite flying, sand dollar hunting, arcades, and more-- it should be terrific, too-- before we begin the journey back through the time zones. Hard to believe that we've made it this far. It felt so good to walk on the beach today--we were joking that we felt a little like Forrest Gump on his cross-country journey!
Yesterday I also took some time to begin organizing my sermon thoughts for the high holidays. On the one hand, I have alot to say about all the things I did; on the other, folks aren't coming to services to symbolically see my trip pictures. On the one hand, I feel that I've learned alot from my experiences-- lessons I'd like to share with the congregation. On the other hand, there's so much going on in the larger world that I feel moved to speak about...
Never a lack of things to say; just not enough time to say them all!
We've had a fabulous week in Portland, visiting with Elyssa's cousins and exploring that great town. We cooked and ate our own pancakes at Slappycakes, ate the weirdest, wonderfulest donuts at Voodoo donuts, drank the world's best coffee (?) at Peets, had tea at the fantastic China Gardens, spent not enough time at Powell's Books, bought a cool new purse for Lys at Queen Bee, explored the Hollywood Farmers' Market, drank from the Benson bubblers, acquired fabulous treasures at the Spoonman, got a year's supply of grains at Bob's Red Mill, rode the Max, and learned alot at the World Forestry Center-- what a tremendous week. We spent great time with family we hardly knew before, and reconnected with one of my oldest friends and her new husband. If we didn't already have such a great home on the other coast, Portland might call our names!
Now we're on to the shore (no, not the Jersey shore!) for a couple of days of exploration, kite flying, sand dollar hunting, arcades, and more-- it should be terrific, too-- before we begin the journey back through the time zones. Hard to believe that we've made it this far. It felt so good to walk on the beach today--we were joking that we felt a little like Forrest Gump on his cross-country journey!
Yesterday I also took some time to begin organizing my sermon thoughts for the high holidays. On the one hand, I have alot to say about all the things I did; on the other, folks aren't coming to services to symbolically see my trip pictures. On the one hand, I feel that I've learned alot from my experiences-- lessons I'd like to share with the congregation. On the other hand, there's so much going on in the larger world that I feel moved to speak about...
Never a lack of things to say; just not enough time to say them all!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
If it's Wednesday, it must be Idaho...
What a wonderful whirlwind we've had these last 6 days, 3,300 miles, 12 states. What a beautiful, crazy, wonderful country we have that I never really knew about!
Last Friday-- Chicago to Minneapolis via Madison, WI, my alma mater. I got to briefly show the kiddos around the campus-- great memories. Then we drove on to the Twin Cities, where we stayed with a great old friend of Elyssa and mine, and had brunch with more good friends from our youth.
Saturday we reluctantly headed out from Minneapolis to Rapid City, SD via Jim's Apple Farm, Minnesota's largest candy store (the sign which caught my eye was 20 feet tall and advertised 57 varieties of root beer and 86 varieties of licorice-- we tried them all), and a fabulous stop at the Corn Palace in Mitchell, SD.
Sunday 8/8 we had a fantastic day, spending time in Badlands National Park, Jewel Cave National Monument, and Mt. Rushmore for their evening ceremony-- we saw the monument all lit up in the dark. It was a remarkably inspiring patriotic moment. Along the way that day, we came to learn that we had happened upon the annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, which brings in literally hundreds of thousands of bikers from around the country-- what a scene!
On Monday, we drove on to Devil's Tower National Monument-- a dream of my rock-climbing wife. We walked the loop trail around the monument and saw a slew of prairie dogs. On the road again, we passed Sturgis, SD and witnessed the incredible events taking place there. Driving into Wyoming, we first passed endless coal trains and oil rigs. Then, we ascended a stunningly beautiful 9,000 foot pass through the Big Horn Mountains, seeing cows, horses, sheep, mule deer, and more, plus rock formations that were 2.5 billion years old.
Leaving Cody, WY on Tuesday morning, we stopped at the Buffalo Bill Dam and then continued on what has been called the 52 most beautiful miles in America on the way into Yellowstone National Park. And then, what DIDN'T we see? We saw tons of bison, waterfalls, weird and smelly mud volcanoes, beautiful and amazing geysers, hot springs, and fumaroles (my favorite new word!) at the Norris Geyser Basin. What a surreal place! Then we made camp at a great site at Madison Campground and, discovering that I had forgotten to pack the camping stove, I proceeded to make mac and cheese in a frying pan over a campfire I built! Call it German stubbornness; call it primordial impulse of the caveman to feed his family at all costs; call it what you will-- they all seemed to enjoy it. Some Apples to Apples in the tent, and then, our first night camping as a family ever, in Yellowstone of all places, went so very well-- we all slept!
Today we started out at Old Faithful Geyser because we felt we had to, being in Yellowstone and all. Truthfully, it was a disappointment after the Norris Geyser Basin. O.F. is so commercialized, and, to us, not nearly as impressive as some of the other sights we saw elsewhere in the park... We drove out the west side of the park, up through Montana and into Coure d'Alene, Idaho. We stopped at some pretty other worldly gas stations and stands; if you ever need a place to hide in the woods, I can see why Southern Montana would be a good place to do so. We COULD have purchased fried chicken gizzards at a gas station, and we nearly tried to buy sodas at a place that, upon closer inspection, was readying itself for the "Testy Festy"-- a celebration of what I can only presume to be the delicacy of some part of the bull. Oy. I knew that we weren't in New Jersey anymore, Toto!
It's been an incredible journey so far, and, despite the predictions of some of our friends, we're all still talking to each other. Tomorrow, it's on to Portland, OR, where we'll actually stay for a whole week. Will I miss driving 8 hours a day? Stay tuned to find out!
Last Friday-- Chicago to Minneapolis via Madison, WI, my alma mater. I got to briefly show the kiddos around the campus-- great memories. Then we drove on to the Twin Cities, where we stayed with a great old friend of Elyssa and mine, and had brunch with more good friends from our youth.
Saturday we reluctantly headed out from Minneapolis to Rapid City, SD via Jim's Apple Farm, Minnesota's largest candy store (the sign which caught my eye was 20 feet tall and advertised 57 varieties of root beer and 86 varieties of licorice-- we tried them all), and a fabulous stop at the Corn Palace in Mitchell, SD.
Sunday 8/8 we had a fantastic day, spending time in Badlands National Park, Jewel Cave National Monument, and Mt. Rushmore for their evening ceremony-- we saw the monument all lit up in the dark. It was a remarkably inspiring patriotic moment. Along the way that day, we came to learn that we had happened upon the annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, which brings in literally hundreds of thousands of bikers from around the country-- what a scene!
On Monday, we drove on to Devil's Tower National Monument-- a dream of my rock-climbing wife. We walked the loop trail around the monument and saw a slew of prairie dogs. On the road again, we passed Sturgis, SD and witnessed the incredible events taking place there. Driving into Wyoming, we first passed endless coal trains and oil rigs. Then, we ascended a stunningly beautiful 9,000 foot pass through the Big Horn Mountains, seeing cows, horses, sheep, mule deer, and more, plus rock formations that were 2.5 billion years old.
Leaving Cody, WY on Tuesday morning, we stopped at the Buffalo Bill Dam and then continued on what has been called the 52 most beautiful miles in America on the way into Yellowstone National Park. And then, what DIDN'T we see? We saw tons of bison, waterfalls, weird and smelly mud volcanoes, beautiful and amazing geysers, hot springs, and fumaroles (my favorite new word!) at the Norris Geyser Basin. What a surreal place! Then we made camp at a great site at Madison Campground and, discovering that I had forgotten to pack the camping stove, I proceeded to make mac and cheese in a frying pan over a campfire I built! Call it German stubbornness; call it primordial impulse of the caveman to feed his family at all costs; call it what you will-- they all seemed to enjoy it. Some Apples to Apples in the tent, and then, our first night camping as a family ever, in Yellowstone of all places, went so very well-- we all slept!
Today we started out at Old Faithful Geyser because we felt we had to, being in Yellowstone and all. Truthfully, it was a disappointment after the Norris Geyser Basin. O.F. is so commercialized, and, to us, not nearly as impressive as some of the other sights we saw elsewhere in the park... We drove out the west side of the park, up through Montana and into Coure d'Alene, Idaho. We stopped at some pretty other worldly gas stations and stands; if you ever need a place to hide in the woods, I can see why Southern Montana would be a good place to do so. We COULD have purchased fried chicken gizzards at a gas station, and we nearly tried to buy sodas at a place that, upon closer inspection, was readying itself for the "Testy Festy"-- a celebration of what I can only presume to be the delicacy of some part of the bull. Oy. I knew that we weren't in New Jersey anymore, Toto!
It's been an incredible journey so far, and, despite the predictions of some of our friends, we're all still talking to each other. Tomorrow, it's on to Portland, OR, where we'll actually stay for a whole week. Will I miss driving 8 hours a day? Stay tuned to find out!
Sunday, August 1, 2010
From the sublime to the ridiculous
It's always eye opening to speak to folks about organic food. But today I had a different kind of eye-opener when speaking to a farmer.
Yesterday as I wrote, we went to a small Farmers' Market right here in Three Oaks-- a market populated with 90% or more local farmers, nearly all of whom grow organically. We even met a chicken farmer (more on that in a moment).
Today, we went to another Farmers' Market held at a local restaurant. Nearly all the vendors there were from a bit further away, and none of them grew organically. I've really grown to like chatting with farmers, and I'm no longer shy about asking how they grow their food. Today, when I asked one farmer if his farm was organic, he replied, "No. No way. You wouldn't want to eat produce that was produced without chemicals. It's buggy and can't grow well, at least around here."
I was stunned by his response, but I suppose I shouldn't be. There's so much misinformation out there about growing organically. I guess I just didn't expect to hear it from a farmer.
Then we had the opposite experience-- the kind of experience that I hope will become more of the norm for me, and perhaps the world.
Yesterday we met a couple who grow produce and chickens organically on about 1/2 an acre behind their house. They didn't have any chicken with them yesterday, but they invited us to come out to the farm today, which we did. the husband showed us around, showing us the chicken-tractors they use to allow their chickens to graze the grass and grubs they love so much. It was a wonderful and interesting conversation-- one that made me look forward, for the first time in a long time, to eating chicken. We took two whole chickens home. I hadn't ever cut up a whole chicken, so I called my brother the chef, who talked me through dismantling it. I marinated and grilled the pieces, and served it along with skewers of the fresh veggies we'd bought yesterday from the same couple. It was a terrific, tasty, local, organic meal. Heaven, really. I'd like to chat with the man who grows my food every day. I'd like to eat like that every day.
Yesterday as I wrote, we went to a small Farmers' Market right here in Three Oaks-- a market populated with 90% or more local farmers, nearly all of whom grow organically. We even met a chicken farmer (more on that in a moment).
Today, we went to another Farmers' Market held at a local restaurant. Nearly all the vendors there were from a bit further away, and none of them grew organically. I've really grown to like chatting with farmers, and I'm no longer shy about asking how they grow their food. Today, when I asked one farmer if his farm was organic, he replied, "No. No way. You wouldn't want to eat produce that was produced without chemicals. It's buggy and can't grow well, at least around here."
I was stunned by his response, but I suppose I shouldn't be. There's so much misinformation out there about growing organically. I guess I just didn't expect to hear it from a farmer.
Then we had the opposite experience-- the kind of experience that I hope will become more of the norm for me, and perhaps the world.
Yesterday we met a couple who grow produce and chickens organically on about 1/2 an acre behind their house. They didn't have any chicken with them yesterday, but they invited us to come out to the farm today, which we did. the husband showed us around, showing us the chicken-tractors they use to allow their chickens to graze the grass and grubs they love so much. It was a wonderful and interesting conversation-- one that made me look forward, for the first time in a long time, to eating chicken. We took two whole chickens home. I hadn't ever cut up a whole chicken, so I called my brother the chef, who talked me through dismantling it. I marinated and grilled the pieces, and served it along with skewers of the fresh veggies we'd bought yesterday from the same couple. It was a terrific, tasty, local, organic meal. Heaven, really. I'd like to chat with the man who grows my food every day. I'd like to eat like that every day.
With One Small Step...
726 miles, 14 hours on the road, and we have arrived in Three Oaks, Michigan at my mom’s summer cabin to begin our tour of this great country of hours. The journey was long and traffic-filled, but otherwise uneventful. The boys watched 7 movies or so, and we listened to about 2/3 of a mindless Clive Cussler mystery on CD. We know this route like the backs of our hands-- 287 South for about 10 miles, and then 700 or so miles on Rt. 80 through Pennsylvania (65 miles per hour, strict police enforcement), Ohio (less strict), Indiana (70 glorious mph, nary a cop in view), and then up into Michigan for a few miles. We spent the first full day sleeping late and hanging out at the pool, and then the evening was pizza and salad at the pavilion here on site, followed by a few games of bingo with 125 people or so. The community here at the cabin resort is so nice and laid back; both boys made friends instantly and were able to wander around safely and worry-free. We finished the day with a bonfire I made near my mom’s cabin (thank you, thank you very much, I’ll be here all week!), smores, and the good company of 4 other really nice couples that my mom and my aunt (also a “camper” as everyone around here calls themselves!) have made over the years. A totally fun and relaxing first day-- especially since we didn’t spend a moment in the car!
Yesterday, we slept late again (yeah!), and then went into Three Oaks proper for a breakfast that couldn’t be beat, and a visit to the town’s charming Farmers’ Market. There were twelve stalls or so-- every one with exclusively local farm products, and almost all produced without the use of pesticides. Fascinating that almost no farmers I’ve spoken with this summer (including Kayam or Farmer Rich, the synagogue’s CSA partner) participate in the federal “Certified Organic” labeling program. Every last one says that the program is filled with loopholes which allow “certified” farmers to actually use various pesticides. So for the “privilege” of massive paperwork, a hefty fee, and random and uneven oversight, a farmer can choose to associate themselves with a certification program that compromises their principles. Or, as most of these farmers have, they can simply avoid claiming to be certified, and simply talk to their customers, telling them (as they do) that they grow their goods naturally, without the use of pesticides. It’s a real shame that this process has been co-opted, but it simply underscores what I believe more and more all the time; we’ve got to get back in real relationship with one another, and then we wouldn’t have to worry quite so much about official labeling requirements.
I loved chatting up the farmers, hearing their stories, and sharing my experiences at Kayam. We bought organic eggs, as well as sweet corn (non-organic; haven’t yet found any organic sweet corn), potatoes, cherry tomatoes, zucchini, herbs, onions, garlic-- all good things we can grill tonight!
After a brief stop back at the cabin to drop off the produce, we headed up to Saugatuck, MI, where we met up with the family of a woman who Elyssa had spent 4 summers with when they were young teens at a Wisconsin summer camp. After 25 years, they reconnected last year on Facebook, and they reunited yesterday! We had a great time with them. They’re super nice folks, and our kids got along smashingly well. We then wandered the charming town, picnicked for dinner by the Kalamazoo River, and enjoyed the “Venetian Night” festivities which included a Boat Parade and fireworks over the river. Another terrific day and late night.
Today will likely be another pool day. It’s a rough life, let me tell you!
Yesterday, we slept late again (yeah!), and then went into Three Oaks proper for a breakfast that couldn’t be beat, and a visit to the town’s charming Farmers’ Market. There were twelve stalls or so-- every one with exclusively local farm products, and almost all produced without the use of pesticides. Fascinating that almost no farmers I’ve spoken with this summer (including Kayam or Farmer Rich, the synagogue’s CSA partner) participate in the federal “Certified Organic” labeling program. Every last one says that the program is filled with loopholes which allow “certified” farmers to actually use various pesticides. So for the “privilege” of massive paperwork, a hefty fee, and random and uneven oversight, a farmer can choose to associate themselves with a certification program that compromises their principles. Or, as most of these farmers have, they can simply avoid claiming to be certified, and simply talk to their customers, telling them (as they do) that they grow their goods naturally, without the use of pesticides. It’s a real shame that this process has been co-opted, but it simply underscores what I believe more and more all the time; we’ve got to get back in real relationship with one another, and then we wouldn’t have to worry quite so much about official labeling requirements.
I loved chatting up the farmers, hearing their stories, and sharing my experiences at Kayam. We bought organic eggs, as well as sweet corn (non-organic; haven’t yet found any organic sweet corn), potatoes, cherry tomatoes, zucchini, herbs, onions, garlic-- all good things we can grill tonight!
After a brief stop back at the cabin to drop off the produce, we headed up to Saugatuck, MI, where we met up with the family of a woman who Elyssa had spent 4 summers with when they were young teens at a Wisconsin summer camp. After 25 years, they reconnected last year on Facebook, and they reunited yesterday! We had a great time with them. They’re super nice folks, and our kids got along smashingly well. We then wandered the charming town, picnicked for dinner by the Kalamazoo River, and enjoyed the “Venetian Night” festivities which included a Boat Parade and fireworks over the river. Another terrific day and late night.
Today will likely be another pool day. It’s a rough life, let me tell you!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Unpack, laundry, repack
Planning for a month away on the road is complicated.
We've done all kinds of crazy travel, but this might be the craziest yet. After being away for two weeks at camp, we unpacked all four of us, did 8 loads of laundry, trimmed some seriously overgrown hair, paid all of the bills for the next month, shopped (with great joy!) at Campmor, bought non-perishables for camping and driving needs, acquired 10 (!) books on CD to listen to in the car, purchased 5 new movies for the portable DVD player, got Lys a pedicure (bright purple :) ), did all the summer homework, got the mail, held the mail for the next month, mowed the lawn, made a 359 song travel mix on the I-Pod, did some other necessary housework-- and that's all in just 48 hours!
Tomorrow, we have to pack for this wonderfully complex trip.
Here's how it's shaping up so far:
8 nights in Chicago area
1 night in Minneapolis, MN
2 nights near Mt. Rushmore in Rapid City, SD
1 night in Cody, WY
1 night camping in Yellowstone
1 night in Spokane, WA
6 nights in Portland, OR
2 nights in Canon Beach, OR
1 night in Boise, ID
1 night in Salt Lake City
2 nights in Aspen, CO
1 night in Lincoln, NE
2 nights in Chicago
I'm so psyched!
We've done all kinds of crazy travel, but this might be the craziest yet. After being away for two weeks at camp, we unpacked all four of us, did 8 loads of laundry, trimmed some seriously overgrown hair, paid all of the bills for the next month, shopped (with great joy!) at Campmor, bought non-perishables for camping and driving needs, acquired 10 (!) books on CD to listen to in the car, purchased 5 new movies for the portable DVD player, got Lys a pedicure (bright purple :) ), did all the summer homework, got the mail, held the mail for the next month, mowed the lawn, made a 359 song travel mix on the I-Pod, did some other necessary housework-- and that's all in just 48 hours!
Tomorrow, we have to pack for this wonderfully complex trip.
Here's how it's shaping up so far:
8 nights in Chicago area
1 night in Minneapolis, MN
2 nights near Mt. Rushmore in Rapid City, SD
1 night in Cody, WY
1 night camping in Yellowstone
1 night in Spokane, WA
6 nights in Portland, OR
2 nights in Canon Beach, OR
1 night in Boise, ID
1 night in Salt Lake City
2 nights in Aspen, CO
1 night in Lincoln, NE
2 nights in Chicago
I'm so psyched!
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Hello Muddah
Two weeks at the Eisner Camp in Great Barrington, MA. In many ways, it was the most "routine" part of my sabbatical, in that I go to camp every summer to serve on faculty. By my rough estimate, this was my 25th summer spent all or in part at a URJ summer camp, in fact.
Perhaps that fact is what made it perfectly obvious that, whatever I would do differently this summer-- whatever I needed to let go of so that I could let God-- camp wasn't it.
I needed to be part of my extended camp family. I needed to give Elyssa the two weeks to pretty much sit under a tree and read 10 books that camp provides every year.
I needed to teach for 6 hours a day-- teach 9-16 year olds-- the next generation of the Jewish people. I needed to teach them and, as always, be re-energized by their passion for learning and growth. I needed to interact with the 18-25 year olds who comprise the bulk of the staff, doing what I could to nurture their continued Jewish development.
I needed to spend time with the close colleagues with whom we've been sharing this same two-week faculty slot for some years now. I needed to brainstorm High Holiday sermon ideas with that cadre (and now I need to write them!). I needed to play endless rounds of Apples to Apples (Jewish Edition, of course!) until all hours of the night with those same crazy rabbis, cantors, and educators.
And while it might not have been anything extraordinary to blog about (sorry for the lay-off, for those who have been following this blog), camp, too, was a part of what I needed during these months. The fact is, camp is a reminder that, although I needed this sabbatical leave, my work as a rabbi is also nurturing to me.
Today we came home with Ari in tow, after his 4 week stint at camp. After giving him two baths and a shower, he is beginning to smell like the boy we know and love. His laundry after one washing? I'm not so sure...
But we have little time to waste-- Thursday we depart on our month-long driving journey to the Left Coast. The preparations have already begun, as we gather gear, clothing, food, a tent (thanks, McVeighs!), music (thanks, I-Tunes) mitbrings (my grandfather's word for gifts), and all that we'll need to keep ourselves sane and happy for thousands and thousands of miles.
Perhaps that fact is what made it perfectly obvious that, whatever I would do differently this summer-- whatever I needed to let go of so that I could let God-- camp wasn't it.
I needed to be part of my extended camp family. I needed to give Elyssa the two weeks to pretty much sit under a tree and read 10 books that camp provides every year.
I needed to teach for 6 hours a day-- teach 9-16 year olds-- the next generation of the Jewish people. I needed to teach them and, as always, be re-energized by their passion for learning and growth. I needed to interact with the 18-25 year olds who comprise the bulk of the staff, doing what I could to nurture their continued Jewish development.
I needed to spend time with the close colleagues with whom we've been sharing this same two-week faculty slot for some years now. I needed to brainstorm High Holiday sermon ideas with that cadre (and now I need to write them!). I needed to play endless rounds of Apples to Apples (Jewish Edition, of course!) until all hours of the night with those same crazy rabbis, cantors, and educators.
And while it might not have been anything extraordinary to blog about (sorry for the lay-off, for those who have been following this blog), camp, too, was a part of what I needed during these months. The fact is, camp is a reminder that, although I needed this sabbatical leave, my work as a rabbi is also nurturing to me.
Today we came home with Ari in tow, after his 4 week stint at camp. After giving him two baths and a shower, he is beginning to smell like the boy we know and love. His laundry after one washing? I'm not so sure...
But we have little time to waste-- Thursday we depart on our month-long driving journey to the Left Coast. The preparations have already begun, as we gather gear, clothing, food, a tent (thanks, McVeighs!), music (thanks, I-Tunes) mitbrings (my grandfather's word for gifts), and all that we'll need to keep ourselves sane and happy for thousands and thousands of miles.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Trip Day and Trip Planning
This afternoon, half of the camp left for an overnight trip; tomorrow, the rest of camp will also be gone, so we faculty essentially have 1 1/2 days off-- pretty good since we've only done 1 1/2 days of work so far!
On full days, we teach from 9:30 a.m. to 4:00 with a lunch break, so we work pretty hard. Fortunately, we teach different things throughout the day, so we don't get bored. I've been having a great time teaching various units-- youngest unit is learning about mitzvot-- Shabbat, mezuzah, and so on; the middle units are learning about sacred space. One of the older units is learning about Israel-- I'm doing a course on Israel through film, eg., The Syrian Bride and The Lemon Tree. They're loving the films. For the other older unit, I'm teaching about what we were learning at the farm-- peah--the Jewish obligation to leave the corners of the field for the poor. There's a small garden here that is reminding me alot of the farm in terms of the crops that are planted there-- tomatoes, squash, herbs, eggplant, peppers-- and it'll be a useful little space to talk about peah and what it might teach us.
Tonight, a bunch of us are headed to a local dive to watch the All-Star Game. I love camp!
This afternoon with our first half-day off, Lys and I had fun planning for the first part of our driving trip. We were able to find a hotel in Keystone, SD (near Mt. Rushmore), a hotel for one night in Cody, WY (near Yellowstone), and then a campsite in Yellowstone (yeah!!). We really weren't sure what we'd find at this late date, and we're thrilled with what we've found. We'll continue working some more tomorrow on our itinerary-- so much fun!
On full days, we teach from 9:30 a.m. to 4:00 with a lunch break, so we work pretty hard. Fortunately, we teach different things throughout the day, so we don't get bored. I've been having a great time teaching various units-- youngest unit is learning about mitzvot-- Shabbat, mezuzah, and so on; the middle units are learning about sacred space. One of the older units is learning about Israel-- I'm doing a course on Israel through film, eg., The Syrian Bride and The Lemon Tree. They're loving the films. For the other older unit, I'm teaching about what we were learning at the farm-- peah--the Jewish obligation to leave the corners of the field for the poor. There's a small garden here that is reminding me alot of the farm in terms of the crops that are planted there-- tomatoes, squash, herbs, eggplant, peppers-- and it'll be a useful little space to talk about peah and what it might teach us.
Tonight, a bunch of us are headed to a local dive to watch the All-Star Game. I love camp!
This afternoon with our first half-day off, Lys and I had fun planning for the first part of our driving trip. We were able to find a hotel in Keystone, SD (near Mt. Rushmore), a hotel for one night in Cody, WY (near Yellowstone), and then a campsite in Yellowstone (yeah!!). We really weren't sure what we'd find at this late date, and we're thrilled with what we've found. We'll continue working some more tomorrow on our itinerary-- so much fun!
Sunday, July 11, 2010
From the Farm to Camp
Landed back at another one of the places that feels like my home-- Eisner Camp. My experiences at OSRUI summer camp in Wisconsin growing up, largely made me the person I am; those experiences were the prime reasons I became a rabbi. And I love that I get to go back to camp each summer.
For the past several summers, we've had the pleasure of coming the same two weeks each summer, with essentially the same set of other faculty and their families each summer. That makes it fun for my whole family to reconnect with this community.
This summer, it's interesting to go from the quite diverse Jewish community at Kayam to the relative homogeneity of this great Reform summer camp. I'll be working with the other rabbis, cantors, and educators here to teach about mitzvot and sacred space to the younger units; I'll be teaching about Israel through film to one of the older units, and teaching about Peah (the Jewish obligation to leave the corners of the field to the poor) to the other unit. It's so great that I'll get to use much of the stuff I learned at Kayam to teach to these 10th graders!
Looking forward to Day 2 at camp tomorrow. I'll be checking in on the 25 or so kids from my congregation who are here as campers...
For the past several summers, we've had the pleasure of coming the same two weeks each summer, with essentially the same set of other faculty and their families each summer. That makes it fun for my whole family to reconnect with this community.
This summer, it's interesting to go from the quite diverse Jewish community at Kayam to the relative homogeneity of this great Reform summer camp. I'll be working with the other rabbis, cantors, and educators here to teach about mitzvot and sacred space to the younger units; I'll be teaching about Israel through film to one of the older units, and teaching about Peah (the Jewish obligation to leave the corners of the field to the poor) to the other unit. It's so great that I'll get to use much of the stuff I learned at Kayam to teach to these 10th graders!
Looking forward to Day 2 at camp tomorrow. I'll be checking in on the 25 or so kids from my congregation who are here as campers...
Breathing In
I took my leave of the farm on Friday morning, with much emotion, knowing that it wasn't shalom (goodbye), but rather l'hitraot (see you again).
Nearly the whole community went out for Karayoke on Thursday night, which was a blast; four of us took our beards (such as they were) and turned the evening into "Mustache Night" (pictures soon)!
Friday morning was deeply emotional for me, and, I gather, for others in the group, too; they gave me a card which everyone had signed; the card was alternately hysterically funny and deeply moving. There were tears all around. I cried when I woke up, as we gathered for the morning announcements, as I did my last work on the farm, as I showered and shaved, as I pulled away in the car... It was an intense experience to leave Kayam, and I've been reflecting on that experience, too, for the last 48 hours or so.
I was very excited to reunite with Lys, Lev, and, today as we head to Eisner Camp where I'll serve on faculty for the next two weeks, with Ari. He's been up there for two weeks already. I am so psyched to be back with my family, period, full-stop. I've missed them tremendously, and some of the tears were tears of joy to be coming home.
And also, I felt like I was leaving another home as I drove down Mt. Gilead Road for the last time (for now).
I think, though, that many of the tears, much of the emotion I feel as I write these words, comes from a recognition, and acknowledgement, of how powerful this first part of my sabbatical has been. As I read the words of the silly/beautiful/touching/ego-boosting card, one of my most intense feelings was just how much I had already accomplished one of my primary goals for this sabbatical-- to breathe in.
I love my work as a rabbi- love it. I know that I'll be psyched to return in September. And one of the metaphors I thought about and used as I planned and spoke and wrote about the sabbatical in preparation is that the work I do involves lots of what feels like breathing out-- speaking, preaching, teaching, counselling, mentoring. It's deeply rewarding work-- don't get me wrong. I get so much out of all of those experiences; it's certainly NOT all give and no get. That's not what I'm implying. When I teach, I learn. When I pastor, I grow. When I organize, I get my self interests met.But somehow, stepping away for a bit has given me the sense that this rabbinic calling metaphorically requires an intense amount of breathing out-- giving of my self emotionally, intellectually, spiritually, and so on.
What I couldn't possibly anticipate-- what I couldn't have known in advance having never been there or done that before-- was the extent to which these past six weeks would allow me to breathe in. I spent 6 weeks taking in learning, soaking in knowledge through my pores; being challenged intellectually in sustained, daily ways I haven't since my time at HUC. I spent 6 weeks "letting the earth teach me Torah."I spent 6 weeks not being in charge. I spent 6 intensive weeks being renewed by the great, diverse community around me. I spent 6 weeks doing intense, sweaty, physical work, using and building muscles I didn't know I had, working harder physically on a daily basis than anytime in my life since at least Avodah 1987. I spent 6 weeks eating really really well and healthfully, with a diet consisting of at least 25% of things that I had been a part of planting, tending, and harvesting.
I breathed out carbon dioxide and breathed in oxygen, as I do every day of my life, thank God. But it felt different, somehow. I didn't really know what I needed as I began this sabbatical journey. And yet, my experiences at Kayam turned out to be deeply, meaningfully, exactly what I needed.
Have I mentioned that I really enjoyed my time at Kayam?
P.S. I intend this sabbatical blog to continue as I continue on this part of my life's journey. As I mentioned, today we head to camp, a place that has been a part of Lys and my annual renewal for 8 years now. I plan to write about that experience, as well, and then continue with the great road-trip Lys and I are planning with the boys. Keep reading!
Nearly the whole community went out for Karayoke on Thursday night, which was a blast; four of us took our beards (such as they were) and turned the evening into "Mustache Night" (pictures soon)!
Friday morning was deeply emotional for me, and, I gather, for others in the group, too; they gave me a card which everyone had signed; the card was alternately hysterically funny and deeply moving. There were tears all around. I cried when I woke up, as we gathered for the morning announcements, as I did my last work on the farm, as I showered and shaved, as I pulled away in the car... It was an intense experience to leave Kayam, and I've been reflecting on that experience, too, for the last 48 hours or so.
I was very excited to reunite with Lys, Lev, and, today as we head to Eisner Camp where I'll serve on faculty for the next two weeks, with Ari. He's been up there for two weeks already. I am so psyched to be back with my family, period, full-stop. I've missed them tremendously, and some of the tears were tears of joy to be coming home.
And also, I felt like I was leaving another home as I drove down Mt. Gilead Road for the last time (for now).
I think, though, that many of the tears, much of the emotion I feel as I write these words, comes from a recognition, and acknowledgement, of how powerful this first part of my sabbatical has been. As I read the words of the silly/beautiful/touching/ego-boosting card, one of my most intense feelings was just how much I had already accomplished one of my primary goals for this sabbatical-- to breathe in.
I love my work as a rabbi- love it. I know that I'll be psyched to return in September. And one of the metaphors I thought about and used as I planned and spoke and wrote about the sabbatical in preparation is that the work I do involves lots of what feels like breathing out-- speaking, preaching, teaching, counselling, mentoring. It's deeply rewarding work-- don't get me wrong. I get so much out of all of those experiences; it's certainly NOT all give and no get. That's not what I'm implying. When I teach, I learn. When I pastor, I grow. When I organize, I get my self interests met.But somehow, stepping away for a bit has given me the sense that this rabbinic calling metaphorically requires an intense amount of breathing out-- giving of my self emotionally, intellectually, spiritually, and so on.
What I couldn't possibly anticipate-- what I couldn't have known in advance having never been there or done that before-- was the extent to which these past six weeks would allow me to breathe in. I spent 6 weeks taking in learning, soaking in knowledge through my pores; being challenged intellectually in sustained, daily ways I haven't since my time at HUC. I spent 6 weeks "letting the earth teach me Torah."I spent 6 weeks not being in charge. I spent 6 intensive weeks being renewed by the great, diverse community around me. I spent 6 weeks doing intense, sweaty, physical work, using and building muscles I didn't know I had, working harder physically on a daily basis than anytime in my life since at least Avodah 1987. I spent 6 weeks eating really really well and healthfully, with a diet consisting of at least 25% of things that I had been a part of planting, tending, and harvesting.
I breathed out carbon dioxide and breathed in oxygen, as I do every day of my life, thank God. But it felt different, somehow. I didn't really know what I needed as I began this sabbatical journey. And yet, my experiences at Kayam turned out to be deeply, meaningfully, exactly what I needed.
Have I mentioned that I really enjoyed my time at Kayam?
P.S. I intend this sabbatical blog to continue as I continue on this part of my life's journey. As I mentioned, today we head to camp, a place that has been a part of Lys and my annual renewal for 8 years now. I plan to write about that experience, as well, and then continue with the great road-trip Lys and I are planning with the boys. Keep reading!
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Kashrut at Kayam
I have spearheaded a six-week conversation here, essentially entitled, "can we develop a kashrut policy that goes beyond the system of hechshers (formal kosher seals of approval)?" which would, for example, allow us to buy things at a Farmers Market and eat them in them in the farm's kosher kitchen. This has been an absolutely fascinating conversation in a highly pluralistic community, one where some folks care most about the Jewish law aspects of diet, others care most about the local/organic aspects of their diet, and still others care about both.
Each week, a small working group has made some progress in moving towards this goal. Tonight at our community meeting, we discussed the draft below, which will be the last one I participate in this summer. :( It's still a work in progress, but I'm immensely proud of both the process we've gone through, and the progress we've made. I'd love to hear your thoughts and your questions....
DRAFT—July 7, 2010
The kitchen in the village of Kayam Farm is an
eco-kosher vegetarian kitchen.
This means:
Klal Gadol--A great principal: The more whole foods and the fewer the ingredients the better. The more processed and the more ingredients there are in an item, the harder it is for us to know where the food comes from, what we’re putting in our bodies, and the more complicated it is to establish the kashrut. (Ideally, all things we buy would have a hechsher AND be local, organic, and seasonal.)
Two questions arise: a) what if something doesn’t have a hechsher but we know suggested addition: we can converse directly with the producer and they tell us that it contains only kosher ingredients and is cooked using only vegetarian utensils? or b) what if an item has a hechsher but isn’t organic, or contains ingredients which aren’t identifiable as food?
The following are the eco-kosher vegetarian requirements for Kayam’s kitchen:
1. Items purchased suggested addition: from producers we have been able to speak to, e.g. at a Farmers Market, can be considered kosher even though they do not have a hechsher, as long as the items:
a. contain only vegan ingredients
b. contain only ingredients identifiable as food.
c. do not contain anything “sharp,” such as onions, garlic, leeks, scallions, radishes, acidic foods (those that you can eat raw are fine, all others are not), or things which have been pickled in vinegar
2. Bread suggested edit: from producers we’ve been able to speak to is kosher as long as it follows the three above rules.
3. Milk being sold commercially does not need a hechsher, with the exception of flavored milk. Raw milk which is sold legally is kosher. All milk for our kitchen must be hormone free and organic.
4. Cheese must have a hechsher and be hormone free. Though the Tablet K hechsher is not accepted by some members of our community, it is permitted in our kitchen. We will strive to obtain a selection of cheeses which are acceptable to everyone.
5. Other dairy needs a hechsher (eg. Yogurt, whipped cream, butter and sour cream)
6. Store-bought processed products need a hechsher unless we are able to speak to the producer.
7. Any cooked item without a hechsher that contains ingredients which are not typically eaten raw is not kosher, eg. cakes or muffins. Cooked things which contain only ingredients might be eaten raw are kosher, such as jam, tehina, or roasted peanut butter (as long as the rules in #1 above apply)
8. We will strive to have everything in our kitchen be chemical and hormone free.
For those who will be going to Farmers Markets, here are the questions to ask of the vendors to determine if their wares meet our requirements:
1. What ingredients does this item contain? (mentally apply requirements in #1 above)
2. What else do you cook using the same utensils?(mentally apply requirements in #1 above)
For those who will be going to Farmers Markets, here are the questions to ask of the vendors to determine if their wares meet our requirements:
1. What ingredients does this item contain? (mentally apply requirements in #1 above)
2. What else do you cook using the same utensils?(mentally apply requirements in #1 above)
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Baruch Dayan Emet, Take 2
Sitting with one of my co-workers here, listening to him speak emotionally yesterday of love and sudden loss, I couldn't help but think of my father, and the way our family endured (and still endures) his sudden death. My friend here was commenting on how the shiva for this close family friend had felt less healing than most others he had attended. He attributed it largely to the family's lack of deep spirituality/religiosity. I wanted to say, but refrained, that I know something about what it's like when there is no time to say goodbye; that the shock of the sudden loss throws the "normal" mourning processes and timing completely out of whack. The family can barely be expected to find shiva healing when they are still just trying to accept the reality of the loss... But I didn't say anything; I suppose because it didn't seem the time to share my own terrible story of loss.
A part of me has wondered whether some part of my interest in this intensive farming experience might be an effort to connect with my dad in a spiritual way. He loved loved loved to garden; next to the White Sox, my mother, my brother, and I, (not necessarily in that order) to my mind, there was nothing he loved more than his garden. I wish I had spent more time with him there; I have no doubt that had I paid more attention to the process he went through of dressing the soil, planting, weeding, and harvesting, I wouldn't have been so clueless when I first came here. For my dad, no weather was too hot or too rainy to be out in his garden-- a garden that seem to grow larger and larger each year. It might have been so that he would have less lawn to mow, but I don't think so. He was just so happy when he was out there, and even happier when the fabulous dinner he or my mom would make would contain fresh lettuce or tomatoes or herbs which were the fruits of his labors.
Working here at Kayam, I feel like I've had an intense immersion in that love he tended for many years-- not enough years, sadly. I don't know that I really believe in spirits, or loved ones speaking to me from beyond the grave. But I do know that, from time to time, especially when my hands have grown black from working the tomato plants, I feel his presence with me, as if he's got his hand on my shoulder. I wish I could hear his voice once more; I wish he would tell me what I was doing wrong with the plants, or tell me how proud he was of me. I'm crying now as I long for his presence in my life; I feel like railing again at the universe, at his unknown assailant, at God. And yet, the rich soil into which I immersed my hands this morning as we planted first melons, and then zucchini, and then squash, has served as a kind of a mikveh for me. I have felt, at certain moments, as if the richness of this soil,and the possibility it holds, is infused with the life force of all who have come before-- plant and animal. As I lifted my eyes to the broiling sun this morning, hands in the rich loam, I felt the warmth of my father's spirit somehow.
Baruch Dayan Emet. I miss him everyday. And I'm so glad to have drawn ever nearer to him during this time.
A part of me has wondered whether some part of my interest in this intensive farming experience might be an effort to connect with my dad in a spiritual way. He loved loved loved to garden; next to the White Sox, my mother, my brother, and I, (not necessarily in that order) to my mind, there was nothing he loved more than his garden. I wish I had spent more time with him there; I have no doubt that had I paid more attention to the process he went through of dressing the soil, planting, weeding, and harvesting, I wouldn't have been so clueless when I first came here. For my dad, no weather was too hot or too rainy to be out in his garden-- a garden that seem to grow larger and larger each year. It might have been so that he would have less lawn to mow, but I don't think so. He was just so happy when he was out there, and even happier when the fabulous dinner he or my mom would make would contain fresh lettuce or tomatoes or herbs which were the fruits of his labors.
Working here at Kayam, I feel like I've had an intense immersion in that love he tended for many years-- not enough years, sadly. I don't know that I really believe in spirits, or loved ones speaking to me from beyond the grave. But I do know that, from time to time, especially when my hands have grown black from working the tomato plants, I feel his presence with me, as if he's got his hand on my shoulder. I wish I could hear his voice once more; I wish he would tell me what I was doing wrong with the plants, or tell me how proud he was of me. I'm crying now as I long for his presence in my life; I feel like railing again at the universe, at his unknown assailant, at God. And yet, the rich soil into which I immersed my hands this morning as we planted first melons, and then zucchini, and then squash, has served as a kind of a mikveh for me. I have felt, at certain moments, as if the richness of this soil,and the possibility it holds, is infused with the life force of all who have come before-- plant and animal. As I lifted my eyes to the broiling sun this morning, hands in the rich loam, I felt the warmth of my father's spirit somehow.
Baruch Dayan Emet. I miss him everyday. And I'm so glad to have drawn ever nearer to him during this time.
Monday, July 5, 2010
The Grim Corn Reaper
My love of power tools has left me in the position more than once here at the farm of being asked to use the gas-powered weed-whacker to clear a plot. Back in Avodah 1987, a weed whacker meant a wooden pole with a semi-circle of metal attached to it, with a double-sided blade attached to it. It was powered by 17 year old hormones, and that's it. But now, we have these cool new-fangled gas powered thingys. And while I like to pretend to be old and wax nostalgic for the good old days, I'm liking the 2010 version of weed-whacking just fine!
So anyway, I weed whacked a field a few weeks ago that had contained cover crops. That was fun, and I had no qualms about it; the next day, Jakir tilled the field under and now there are melons growing there.
But on Friday, Abby approached me solemnly and asked me how I'd feel about weed-whacking. "I'd love to!" I responded, eager to get back into power-tools usage. "What needs eliminating?" I asked.
"The corn," she said, sadly.
"Really? The corn?" I asked. "Why?" I asked, incredulous.
The farm tried growing corn for the first time this year. The field as I stood in front of it with my tool of destruction contained perhaps 30 plants identifiable as corn-like.
It seems that the powers that be had determined that a) it was not at all clear that the few plants were numerous enough or close enough to cross-fertilize as they'd need to, and b) too few stalks had actually grown, and the plot was too big to be this unbountiful-- we'd need the space for something else.
And so, "The Salad Spinner" became "The Grim Corn Reaper." And I couldn't help but wonder (in the spirit of Carrie Bradshaw), why is that we don't have a blessing for such a moment?
I've wondered aloud before with my friends here about why we don't have a planting blessing or a harvesting blessing. The long and short of it seems to be: we don't say a blessing until the process is complete, as in, once we harvest the food and prepare it, we say a blessing before we eat it. I guess that makes some sense, but only to the extent that human beings, and our needs, are the measure of all things, which I'm not sure I ascribe to.
We do have blessings for when observe kings and comets and lighting; we do have blessings of joy and sorrow; maybe that's what I felt like saying before I slew the (not so) mighty corn: Baruch Dayan Emet. Blessed are You, Adonai, The Truthful Judge. That's what we say when we hear of a death. Distinctly not: Blessed are You, who makes bad things happen along with good, but rather, Blessed is the Truthful Judge, as in, acknowledge that God is in the good and the bad. I wanted to acknowledge-- even name, that, despite OUR best efforts at preparing soil, planting, and weeding, God with whom we are partners in the unfolding work of creation evidently answered our (non) prayer for a bountiful corn harvest by saying no. In that spirit, for the corn that wasn't meant to be, I say,
Blessed are You, Adonai, the Truthful Judge.
It feels better somehow. I think. I'll get back to you. But i hope not to have to whack any more innocent produce anytime soon.
So anyway, I weed whacked a field a few weeks ago that had contained cover crops. That was fun, and I had no qualms about it; the next day, Jakir tilled the field under and now there are melons growing there.
But on Friday, Abby approached me solemnly and asked me how I'd feel about weed-whacking. "I'd love to!" I responded, eager to get back into power-tools usage. "What needs eliminating?" I asked.
"The corn," she said, sadly.
"Really? The corn?" I asked. "Why?" I asked, incredulous.
The farm tried growing corn for the first time this year. The field as I stood in front of it with my tool of destruction contained perhaps 30 plants identifiable as corn-like.
It seems that the powers that be had determined that a) it was not at all clear that the few plants were numerous enough or close enough to cross-fertilize as they'd need to, and b) too few stalks had actually grown, and the plot was too big to be this unbountiful-- we'd need the space for something else.
And so, "The Salad Spinner" became "The Grim Corn Reaper." And I couldn't help but wonder (in the spirit of Carrie Bradshaw), why is that we don't have a blessing for such a moment?
I've wondered aloud before with my friends here about why we don't have a planting blessing or a harvesting blessing. The long and short of it seems to be: we don't say a blessing until the process is complete, as in, once we harvest the food and prepare it, we say a blessing before we eat it. I guess that makes some sense, but only to the extent that human beings, and our needs, are the measure of all things, which I'm not sure I ascribe to.
We do have blessings for when observe kings and comets and lighting; we do have blessings of joy and sorrow; maybe that's what I felt like saying before I slew the (not so) mighty corn: Baruch Dayan Emet. Blessed are You, Adonai, The Truthful Judge. That's what we say when we hear of a death. Distinctly not: Blessed are You, who makes bad things happen along with good, but rather, Blessed is the Truthful Judge, as in, acknowledge that God is in the good and the bad. I wanted to acknowledge-- even name, that, despite OUR best efforts at preparing soil, planting, and weeding, God with whom we are partners in the unfolding work of creation evidently answered our (non) prayer for a bountiful corn harvest by saying no. In that spirit, for the corn that wasn't meant to be, I say,
Blessed are You, Adonai, the Truthful Judge.
It feels better somehow. I think. I'll get back to you. But i hope not to have to whack any more innocent produce anytime soon.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Potatoes, Tomatoes, Sheep and Chickens
Another busy busy day on the farm...
It began with a Torah study session I lead on Parashat Pinchas; we discussed the amazing heroism of the daughters of Zelophechad-- what a way to begin the day (at 6:30 a.m.!)
I spent the first two hours of the morning harvesting potatoes with Dan. We have a few potato plants each year in our home garden, and it's always a treat to be able to find potatoes under those 9 or so plants-- whatever we find always seems a pleasant surprise. We usually bake them or nuke them or mash them (Lys's favorite choice). But when you've got hundreds of plants and 40 CSA shares to fill, the novelty pretty quickly wears off. You pull up the plants hoping that many many potatoes come up with the whole root system (I never had more than 4 come out of the ground in this easy manner), and then you go digging, mostly be hand (a shovel would work but it has the tendency to damage any potatoes it strikes) in the dirt that has been gradually mounded up around the plants. Repeat 40-50 times, and you hopefully get 25 pounds or so of potatoes. Fun digging in the dirt, not so fun the 40th time in a row. But we filled our quota!
Then after some breakfast, Yoni and I headed to the new field. You know those tomatoes I bragged about weeding single-handedly a couple of weeks ago? Well, now those plants are huge and droopy with branches and leaves and growing tomatoes, and they need to be trellised. That involves pounding posts into the ground every 10 feet or so (I love the post-pounder) and then tieing twine back and forth between the posts to get the tomato plants to stand up. It's tough but rewarding work to actually see the rows re-emerge from a bushy mess of plants.
This afternoon we finished our study of Tractate Peah, which speaks of the farmer's obligation to leave the corner of the field for the poor. Then we went off on a field trip to the Blackberry Field Farm, run by two Jewish women from Baltimore who raise sheep and chickens. We heard about the trials, tribulations, and rewards of running this farm, a project of 4-H in Baltimore.
Then back to the farm for dinner and the siyyum (summary session) of the week at the farm. A great and fulfilling day...
Can't wait for Shabbat, and I can't believe that it'll be my last one at the farm... :(
It began with a Torah study session I lead on Parashat Pinchas; we discussed the amazing heroism of the daughters of Zelophechad-- what a way to begin the day (at 6:30 a.m.!)
I spent the first two hours of the morning harvesting potatoes with Dan. We have a few potato plants each year in our home garden, and it's always a treat to be able to find potatoes under those 9 or so plants-- whatever we find always seems a pleasant surprise. We usually bake them or nuke them or mash them (Lys's favorite choice). But when you've got hundreds of plants and 40 CSA shares to fill, the novelty pretty quickly wears off. You pull up the plants hoping that many many potatoes come up with the whole root system (I never had more than 4 come out of the ground in this easy manner), and then you go digging, mostly be hand (a shovel would work but it has the tendency to damage any potatoes it strikes) in the dirt that has been gradually mounded up around the plants. Repeat 40-50 times, and you hopefully get 25 pounds or so of potatoes. Fun digging in the dirt, not so fun the 40th time in a row. But we filled our quota!
Then after some breakfast, Yoni and I headed to the new field. You know those tomatoes I bragged about weeding single-handedly a couple of weeks ago? Well, now those plants are huge and droopy with branches and leaves and growing tomatoes, and they need to be trellised. That involves pounding posts into the ground every 10 feet or so (I love the post-pounder) and then tieing twine back and forth between the posts to get the tomato plants to stand up. It's tough but rewarding work to actually see the rows re-emerge from a bushy mess of plants.
This afternoon we finished our study of Tractate Peah, which speaks of the farmer's obligation to leave the corner of the field for the poor. Then we went off on a field trip to the Blackberry Field Farm, run by two Jewish women from Baltimore who raise sheep and chickens. We heard about the trials, tribulations, and rewards of running this farm, a project of 4-H in Baltimore.
Then back to the farm for dinner and the siyyum (summary session) of the week at the farm. A great and fulfilling day...
Can't wait for Shabbat, and I can't believe that it'll be my last one at the farm... :(
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
A few skills I've learned on the farm
I'm trying to keep track of the farm skills I've learned so far, so here goes:
How to live in an intentional community
How to use an oscillating hoe.
How to pinch off tomato plant suckers
How to tie up tomatoes
How to properly harvest garlic scapes, lettuce, mustard greens, turnips, radishes, strawberries, sugar snap peas, garlic, zucchini
How to weed just about any vegetable plant
How to string up garlic for curing
How to operate a chain saw
How to operate a tiller
How to set up a drip irrigation system
How to set up a tunnel to protect plants from excess heat or animals
How to properly smush bugs that are eating eggplant leaves
How to water a 3 acre field with a single hose
How to pot up plants
How far apart to space starts for carrots, tomatoes, eggplant, lettuce, peppers
How to break apart a hay bale
How to mulch with hay
How to prepare a bed for planting with mushroom and leaf composts
How to build a frame to hang slaughtered goats on (so that their blood can drain)
How to build a platform for an army tent
How to erect an army tent
How to build wooden bunk beds
Wow-- I've learned a bunch... I'm sure I'll think of more!
How to live in an intentional community
How to use an oscillating hoe.
How to pinch off tomato plant suckers
How to tie up tomatoes
How to properly harvest garlic scapes, lettuce, mustard greens, turnips, radishes, strawberries, sugar snap peas, garlic, zucchini
How to weed just about any vegetable plant
How to string up garlic for curing
How to operate a chain saw
How to operate a tiller
How to set up a drip irrigation system
How to set up a tunnel to protect plants from excess heat or animals
How to properly smush bugs that are eating eggplant leaves
How to water a 3 acre field with a single hose
How to pot up plants
How far apart to space starts for carrots, tomatoes, eggplant, lettuce, peppers
How to break apart a hay bale
How to mulch with hay
How to prepare a bed for planting with mushroom and leaf composts
How to build a frame to hang slaughtered goats on (so that their blood can drain)
How to build a platform for an army tent
How to erect an army tent
How to build wooden bunk beds
Wow-- I've learned a bunch... I'm sure I'll think of more!
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Turning up the heat
Today I was reminded about why I am a proud Reform Jew.
I slept gloriously late on this Shabbat morning. I got up and found my way to the kitchen, where an intense discussion was underway. It seems that the cholent pot, containing the slow-cooking traditional Shabbat stew, had been set on “low” before Shabbat, and there was concern that it had not cooked enough, and wouldn’t be fully cooked through for lunch, three hours hence.
A debate was raging. Could someone go over to Pearlstone, find a two-year old, bring them to the kitchen, and place them in front of the cholent pot until they happened, in innocent play, to turn the pot from low to high?
The discussion went on and on as I sat and ate my Cheerios. How old could the child be? Three was deemed too old, as they would no longer simply play, but need to be told what to do, and it was forbidden to instruct someone to turn the heat up, because it’s against Jewish law to benefit from the product of intentionally telling someone to violate Shabbat. In good halakhic form, one person told a story of a time when they were in a house where a major fuse blew, and one of the heads of household held a small child in front of the fuse box and said something like, “wow, Sammy, do you see anything to play with?”
Then, a woman in the process of conversion to Judaism said that she has to do one thing each Shabbat to violate the laws of the day, and she’d be willing to turn the pot up. Another lengthy discussion ensued, in which it was established that as long as no one had asked her to turn the pot up, and as long as it would redound to her benefit (ie. that she herself would be eating the cholent), the rest of us, if we happened to benefit from her self-interested actions, would be fine to consume it. She went and turned up the heat.
Having listened to what seemed to me a crazy conversation, especially in light of the fact that there is a ton of other food available for consumption in the kitchen, I blurted out something I now regret in front of the gathered group of 5 or 6 of my fellow intentional-community cohorts: “This,” I said, “is why I am a Reform Jew.”
I now sit here typing away furiously on this box that halakhah prohibits me from using on Shabbat, feeling terrible about having uttered what must have sounded a horribly judgmental statement. I really and truly feel bad—it was unlike me to do something like that.
It’s not an excuse, but I know that whatever my ideal Shabbat looks like, it’s not in that discussion. I get turning the cholent on and then not doing any formal cooking on Shabbat—I actually really like to idea, and intend to try it when I get home. I get regretting that it was set on low, and bemoaning the fact that what should have been outstandingly tasty beans and potatoes will alas go to waste; this fits in with a religious ethic of letting go of some sense of control on Shabbat. What I don’t get in any way, shape, or form, is how luring in an unwitting baby into the kitchen, hoping (but not asking in any way) that the child might accidentally turn the pot up makes any sense at all. What I don’t accept as a part of my halakhah is how the concept of a Shabbes goy can be acceptable Jewish ethics. I admit that, early on in the conversation, I had half a mind to just go in and turn it up.
But if knew one thing, it was that I wasn’t going to be the Shabbes Reform Rabbi. I like intellectual discussions and debates as much as anyone. But to me, there’s a point where the discussion has to end. Either someone turn the pot up, or get out the cold (but yummy) pasta from last night. But if ritual practice in meant to lead to righteous living in the larger world, what are we teaching when we ask (in however veiled a way) our two year olds and our potential Jews by choice to do what we ourselves are unwilling to defile ourselves by doing?
Let Shabbat be a special time for honesty and straightforwardness in our dealings.
Let it be a time of simplicity rather than intense complexity.
Postscript:
When I returned to the moadon to apologize after hiding out, stewing, thinking, and writing for two hours, I found a few interesting things:
1) No one had actually been mad about my comment; some found it funny.
2) For a few people, the comment actually sparked curiosity about Reform Judaism, both in specific regard to this issue, and also more generally an interest in Reform Judaism in general
3)One Orthodox woman shocked me when she admitted quietly, "Yeah, I also was thinking what a ridiculous debate we were having!"
What a strange people we are...
I slept gloriously late on this Shabbat morning. I got up and found my way to the kitchen, where an intense discussion was underway. It seems that the cholent pot, containing the slow-cooking traditional Shabbat stew, had been set on “low” before Shabbat, and there was concern that it had not cooked enough, and wouldn’t be fully cooked through for lunch, three hours hence.
A debate was raging. Could someone go over to Pearlstone, find a two-year old, bring them to the kitchen, and place them in front of the cholent pot until they happened, in innocent play, to turn the pot from low to high?
The discussion went on and on as I sat and ate my Cheerios. How old could the child be? Three was deemed too old, as they would no longer simply play, but need to be told what to do, and it was forbidden to instruct someone to turn the heat up, because it’s against Jewish law to benefit from the product of intentionally telling someone to violate Shabbat. In good halakhic form, one person told a story of a time when they were in a house where a major fuse blew, and one of the heads of household held a small child in front of the fuse box and said something like, “wow, Sammy, do you see anything to play with?”
Then, a woman in the process of conversion to Judaism said that she has to do one thing each Shabbat to violate the laws of the day, and she’d be willing to turn the pot up. Another lengthy discussion ensued, in which it was established that as long as no one had asked her to turn the pot up, and as long as it would redound to her benefit (ie. that she herself would be eating the cholent), the rest of us, if we happened to benefit from her self-interested actions, would be fine to consume it. She went and turned up the heat.
Having listened to what seemed to me a crazy conversation, especially in light of the fact that there is a ton of other food available for consumption in the kitchen, I blurted out something I now regret in front of the gathered group of 5 or 6 of my fellow intentional-community cohorts: “This,” I said, “is why I am a Reform Jew.”
I now sit here typing away furiously on this box that halakhah prohibits me from using on Shabbat, feeling terrible about having uttered what must have sounded a horribly judgmental statement. I really and truly feel bad—it was unlike me to do something like that.
It’s not an excuse, but I know that whatever my ideal Shabbat looks like, it’s not in that discussion. I get turning the cholent on and then not doing any formal cooking on Shabbat—I actually really like to idea, and intend to try it when I get home. I get regretting that it was set on low, and bemoaning the fact that what should have been outstandingly tasty beans and potatoes will alas go to waste; this fits in with a religious ethic of letting go of some sense of control on Shabbat. What I don’t get in any way, shape, or form, is how luring in an unwitting baby into the kitchen, hoping (but not asking in any way) that the child might accidentally turn the pot up makes any sense at all. What I don’t accept as a part of my halakhah is how the concept of a Shabbes goy can be acceptable Jewish ethics. I admit that, early on in the conversation, I had half a mind to just go in and turn it up.
But if knew one thing, it was that I wasn’t going to be the Shabbes Reform Rabbi. I like intellectual discussions and debates as much as anyone. But to me, there’s a point where the discussion has to end. Either someone turn the pot up, or get out the cold (but yummy) pasta from last night. But if ritual practice in meant to lead to righteous living in the larger world, what are we teaching when we ask (in however veiled a way) our two year olds and our potential Jews by choice to do what we ourselves are unwilling to defile ourselves by doing?
Let Shabbat be a special time for honesty and straightforwardness in our dealings.
Let it be a time of simplicity rather than intense complexity.
Postscript:
When I returned to the moadon to apologize after hiding out, stewing, thinking, and writing for two hours, I found a few interesting things:
1) No one had actually been mad about my comment; some found it funny.
2) For a few people, the comment actually sparked curiosity about Reform Judaism, both in specific regard to this issue, and also more generally an interest in Reform Judaism in general
3)One Orthodox woman shocked me when she admitted quietly, "Yeah, I also was thinking what a ridiculous debate we were having!"
What a strange people we are...
Monday, June 21, 2010
The Kollel Begins
Happy Summer!
The Kollel finally began today, with 11 of us studying texts I had prepared from the tractate of the Talmud called Berachot, and it all went really well. There's a range of text ability here, and I am at the lower end of the spectrum, which made putting the texts together rather intimidating. We ended up having great conversations, though, about the blessings we are taught to say before we eat, and why we are instructed to say them. The Talmud gives many reasons as to why we are supposed to bless in this way, but the basic gist is that the food doesn't belong to us, even if we grew it--it belongs to God, and the way we redeem it from God is by saying a blessing. By blessing the food, we bring God into the world.
It was wonderful to finally begin this three week part of the journey; I was very nervous and tonight I'm feeling partial relief...
The study followed a great and hot morning of farming-- removing the suckers on tomato plants, planting purple peppers, and finally finishing the weeding of the kale in my plot.
My plot is turning over quickly; the beans are really done and will soon be plowed under; there are now four types of micro greens growing in the front of the plot, and more kale was planted where the spinach was. We're really transitioning from spring harvest to summer harvest-- there's actually a bit of a lull right now-- far less to harvest than there was in weeks past.
The Kollel finally began today, with 11 of us studying texts I had prepared from the tractate of the Talmud called Berachot, and it all went really well. There's a range of text ability here, and I am at the lower end of the spectrum, which made putting the texts together rather intimidating. We ended up having great conversations, though, about the blessings we are taught to say before we eat, and why we are instructed to say them. The Talmud gives many reasons as to why we are supposed to bless in this way, but the basic gist is that the food doesn't belong to us, even if we grew it--it belongs to God, and the way we redeem it from God is by saying a blessing. By blessing the food, we bring God into the world.
It was wonderful to finally begin this three week part of the journey; I was very nervous and tonight I'm feeling partial relief...
The study followed a great and hot morning of farming-- removing the suckers on tomato plants, planting purple peppers, and finally finishing the weeding of the kale in my plot.
My plot is turning over quickly; the beans are really done and will soon be plowed under; there are now four types of micro greens growing in the front of the plot, and more kale was planted where the spinach was. We're really transitioning from spring harvest to summer harvest-- there's actually a bit of a lull right now-- far less to harvest than there was in weeks past.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
The times, they are a-changin'...
Had a great Shabbat with the family-- it was so incredibly good to see them! We had a fantastic time at the farm-- services and dinner on Friday night, sleeping in and a great hike of the loop trail on Saturday, and a good time harvesting this morning and going into Baltimore for the great, if sweaty, Farmer's Market. The boys popped right up this morning and helped pick peas, which was so fun! Here's some pictures from that harvesting:
Aren't they handsome?
Tonight, we met with the five folks who have come for the Kollel for this week. The Kollel is actually why I"m officially here, now that I'm more than halfway through my time. The idea is that, starting tomorrow, we'll work in the field until noon, and then study Jewish text related to agriculture in the afternoon.
So far, the folks I've been living and working with have been the Fellows who are working both at Kayam and the adjacent JCC Day Camp, plus the paid staff of Kayam. Now, things are changing; these new, great folks have come in, and as of tomorrow, camp starts-- the fellows will mostly be there, and I'll mostly be with Kollel group, which will change week to week as some folks are here for much of the summer, and some are here as short as one week.
Each week we'll be studying a Jewish text related to agriculture; I'm "captaining" this first week, which is based on the Talmudic text called Brachot. It's been more than a little humbling to put together study materials for this group-- most of the other folks have been in yeshiva or at least have Jewish day school backgrounds. Hopefull the study materials I've assembled will serve as a valuable jumping off point for each chevruta's (learning pair) study.
I've not been so intimated in a long time; hopefully it will go well. This being way out of my league, too, is a different experience-- hopefully a good one!
Off to try to sleep before the big day!
Note-- I've just (finally) added some photos from the watershed pilgrimage to that posting-- check 'em out!
Aren't they handsome?
Tonight, we met with the five folks who have come for the Kollel for this week. The Kollel is actually why I"m officially here, now that I'm more than halfway through my time. The idea is that, starting tomorrow, we'll work in the field until noon, and then study Jewish text related to agriculture in the afternoon.
So far, the folks I've been living and working with have been the Fellows who are working both at Kayam and the adjacent JCC Day Camp, plus the paid staff of Kayam. Now, things are changing; these new, great folks have come in, and as of tomorrow, camp starts-- the fellows will mostly be there, and I'll mostly be with Kollel group, which will change week to week as some folks are here for much of the summer, and some are here as short as one week.
Each week we'll be studying a Jewish text related to agriculture; I'm "captaining" this first week, which is based on the Talmudic text called Brachot. It's been more than a little humbling to put together study materials for this group-- most of the other folks have been in yeshiva or at least have Jewish day school backgrounds. Hopefull the study materials I've assembled will serve as a valuable jumping off point for each chevruta's (learning pair) study.
I've not been so intimated in a long time; hopefully it will go well. This being way out of my league, too, is a different experience-- hopefully a good one!
Off to try to sleep before the big day!
Note-- I've just (finally) added some photos from the watershed pilgrimage to that posting-- check 'em out!
Friday, June 18, 2010
The Long Wait is Over
The day has arrived, ending the longest stretch of my time at the farm without seeing my family... Today is the day-- they'll arrive later for Shabbat, and I can't wait!
Two nights ago we spent the evening at the farmhouse where the staff of Kayam live, about 2 miles from Pearlstone. There's a hiking path through cornfields and forest, though we drove a country road that felt alot like Highway F in Wisconsin.
The farmhouse is actually owned by New York Times garden columnist Ann Raver, so you can only imagine how beautiful the home and the property are. She grew up in the farmhouse, which is charming and right out of the 1940's-- I half expected Dorothy and and Toto to come prancing out! A few years ago, Ann and her partner converted half of one of the huge barns on the property into this amazing lofted apartment where they now live.
Every bit of the property is thoughtfully planned out and elegant-- the ultimate garden tour-- but not fancy or showy. Here's a rosebush planted in the middle of the lettuce beds. Here are the horseradish plants she wrote about for her March 31, 2010 article on the subject. We were stunned at every turn as we picked wild mulberries and blackberries and black raspberries-- we feasted on them...
Ann is a good friend to Kayam, and a good supporter of their work; I'm now a fan of Ann and am reading all of her articles at the Times website; she;'ll definitely be another one of my new garden gurus!
Two nights ago we spent the evening at the farmhouse where the staff of Kayam live, about 2 miles from Pearlstone. There's a hiking path through cornfields and forest, though we drove a country road that felt alot like Highway F in Wisconsin.
Every bit of the property is thoughtfully planned out and elegant-- the ultimate garden tour-- but not fancy or showy. Here's a rosebush planted in the middle of the lettuce beds. Here are the horseradish plants she wrote about for her March 31, 2010 article on the subject. We were stunned at every turn as we picked wild mulberries and blackberries and black raspberries-- we feasted on them...
Ann is a good friend to Kayam, and a good supporter of their work; I'm now a fan of Ann and am reading all of her articles at the Times website; she;'ll definitely be another one of my new garden gurus!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
10 million fireflies...
I have never ever seen so many fireflies...
We just walked back in the dark from watching the first half of the Lakers-Celts NBA game 6 at Yakir and Netz's house, and there were more "flashbulbs" going off in the forest than there were at the Staples Center in LA! It's so incredibly beautiful and peaceful here-- can't wait to show Lys and the boys-- just 2 more days!
Okay, speaking of Elyssa-- dear-- I will never ever complain again about what a pain it is to weed the little garden we've got growing in our front yard. You graciously have done that work for years, never complaining. Well, I now have some perspective. Over the last 2 days, I have single-handedly weeded 500 tomato plants, and no, that's not an exaggeration. My favorite new gardening tool is an oscillating hoe:
Me and my hoe (also called a saddle hoe) have gotten to be good friends. (Hey, no jokes, please-- this is serious business!)
It was very rewarding work; it'd be even more rewarding if I didn't already know that by next week, there'll be weeds again, but, such is life...
Had an interesting talk with a forest ecologist today... He took us on a walk around the loop trail popinting out amazing things.
It seems that each expert we speak to makes the concept of sustainability so much more nuanced and complex... Kayam is doing great things with organic farming, but it still uses tons of water (instead of using water collected when it rains). It's doing incredible stuff with its production, but it's still not doing permaculture, instead relying on the basic style of farming used in most places in the country.
I am determined not to make the perfect the enemy of the good, as Voltaire wrote. Kayam is an amazing place, period, and it represents a growing community of folks concerned about sustainability. AND, I have many more questions to ask. Like everything else I learn in my life, I suppose, the more I know, the more I realize how much much more there is to learn...
We just walked back in the dark from watching the first half of the Lakers-Celts NBA game 6 at Yakir and Netz's house, and there were more "flashbulbs" going off in the forest than there were at the Staples Center in LA! It's so incredibly beautiful and peaceful here-- can't wait to show Lys and the boys-- just 2 more days!
Okay, speaking of Elyssa-- dear-- I will never ever complain again about what a pain it is to weed the little garden we've got growing in our front yard. You graciously have done that work for years, never complaining. Well, I now have some perspective. Over the last 2 days, I have single-handedly weeded 500 tomato plants, and no, that's not an exaggeration. My favorite new gardening tool is an oscillating hoe:
Me and my hoe (also called a saddle hoe) have gotten to be good friends. (Hey, no jokes, please-- this is serious business!)
It was very rewarding work; it'd be even more rewarding if I didn't already know that by next week, there'll be weeds again, but, such is life...
Had an interesting talk with a forest ecologist today... He took us on a walk around the loop trail popinting out amazing things.
It seems that each expert we speak to makes the concept of sustainability so much more nuanced and complex... Kayam is doing great things with organic farming, but it still uses tons of water (instead of using water collected when it rains). It's doing incredible stuff with its production, but it's still not doing permaculture, instead relying on the basic style of farming used in most places in the country.
I am determined not to make the perfect the enemy of the good, as Voltaire wrote. Kayam is an amazing place, period, and it represents a growing community of folks concerned about sustainability. AND, I have many more questions to ask. Like everything else I learn in my life, I suppose, the more I know, the more I realize how much much more there is to learn...
Monday, June 14, 2010
The New Moon
Kayam has a calendar garden, with (soon to be) twelve pie-piece-shaped beds arranged in a circle with a sundial in the middle. Each bed represents one of the Hebrew months, in addition to one of the 12 tribes of Israel. Yesterday was the new moon of Tammuz, represented by the tribe of Reuven. In honor of Tammuz, a month that the mystical tradition associates with trial and testing, we planted spicy hot "fish" peppers.
Then tonight was the first clear night in awhile, and we went out with my telescope and looked at the sliver of the new moon with the rest of the moon ever-so-gently lit with earthshine. It was a great way to close the bookend of the day in which we marked the new moon.
The tribe of Reuven is associated with "seeing," and so we challenged ourselves today to really attempt to see and pay attention to what is around us, where we are, and also to where we'd like to be, what we'd like to work on, during our time here. I shared with the group my desire to be more reflective about my experience in life generally, and certainly during this unique experience. I'm not totally sure that I can reflect on it fully while I'm in it, but I am going to try to stop and "smell the basil!"
Happy Rosh Chodesh Tammuz!
Then tonight was the first clear night in awhile, and we went out with my telescope and looked at the sliver of the new moon with the rest of the moon ever-so-gently lit with earthshine. It was a great way to close the bookend of the day in which we marked the new moon.
The tribe of Reuven is associated with "seeing," and so we challenged ourselves today to really attempt to see and pay attention to what is around us, where we are, and also to where we'd like to be, what we'd like to work on, during our time here. I shared with the group my desire to be more reflective about my experience in life generally, and certainly during this unique experience. I'm not totally sure that I can reflect on it fully while I'm in it, but I am going to try to stop and "smell the basil!"
Happy Rosh Chodesh Tammuz!
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Would You Like Kale with That? or, the Suggestive Sell at a Farmer's Market
Had the privilege of staffing the local JCC Farmer's Market today with Alex. Heard I missed a rousing time at the first Ramsey Farmer's Market!
It was a neat experience, even though the "traffic" was pretty slow. It is a market that Kayam started about three years ago, and it's slowly growing. We sold about $275 worth of lettuce, kale, spring onions, sugar snap peas, strawberries, garlic scapes, mustard greens, beets, pac-choi, and turnips-- not too shabby. It was great chatting with people-- a few people knew exactly what they wanted and what to do with the stuff; many others had questions, were unfamiliar with some of the items and how to prepare them, and were even open to the kind of "suggestive sell" I learned way back in my McDonald's night shift days in Madison, WI.
Over the four hours of the market, we experimented with different ways to display the goods, propping bins up on an angle, pre-packaging some greens while leaving the rest for people to see/pick on their own (we think folks liked seeing the stuff loose but almost all preferred to let us actually bag it up. Interesting.). We decided that for next week, we're going to try to make some laminated signs for each thing that would give folks an idea of how to use it/prepare it. Should be interesting to see if that helps at all.
We'll be donating the rest to a local food pantry, which is cool-- our own version of "leaving the corners of our fields." The mishnah suggests actually leaving stuff in the field and letting the poor come and harvest it on their own; not quite sure how or if that could work practically on this land.
It was a neat experience, even though the "traffic" was pretty slow. It is a market that Kayam started about three years ago, and it's slowly growing. We sold about $275 worth of lettuce, kale, spring onions, sugar snap peas, strawberries, garlic scapes, mustard greens, beets, pac-choi, and turnips-- not too shabby. It was great chatting with people-- a few people knew exactly what they wanted and what to do with the stuff; many others had questions, were unfamiliar with some of the items and how to prepare them, and were even open to the kind of "suggestive sell" I learned way back in my McDonald's night shift days in Madison, WI.
Over the four hours of the market, we experimented with different ways to display the goods, propping bins up on an angle, pre-packaging some greens while leaving the rest for people to see/pick on their own (we think folks liked seeing the stuff loose but almost all preferred to let us actually bag it up. Interesting.). We decided that for next week, we're going to try to make some laminated signs for each thing that would give folks an idea of how to use it/prepare it. Should be interesting to see if that helps at all.
We'll be donating the rest to a local food pantry, which is cool-- our own version of "leaving the corners of our fields." The mishnah suggests actually leaving stuff in the field and letting the poor come and harvest it on their own; not quite sure how or if that could work practically on this land.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Shabbat Shalom or, a new appreciation for the 39 malachot
After a week like this, I can imagine how our ancestors came up with the categories of work that are forbidden on Shabbat. The categories, as listed below, seem arcane to most of us on a day to day basis, because they almost all have to do with farming in one way or another. The rabbis of our tradition have extrapolated from this list to discern all the prohibitions we associate with Shabbat. I have to say that, living in the more basic way that I have been, doing (seemingly) simpler tasks, I appreciate the traditional list much more than I usually do.
Here is a list of those categories with an "X" next to the ones I am aware of doing this week, and a "Y" next to ones I do in a typical week in Oakland, NJ:
1. Sowing--X
2. Plowing--X
3. Reaping--X
4. Binding Sheaves--X
5. Threshing--X
6. Winnowing
7. Selecting--X, Y
8. Grinding
9. Sifting--X
10. Kneading--Y
11. Baking--Y
12. Shearing
13. Bleaching
14. Hackling
15. Dyeing
16. Spinning-X
17. Stretching the threads
18. The making of two meshes
19. Weaving two threads
20. Dividing two threads
21. Tying a knot--X, Y
22. Untying a knot--X,Y
23. Sewing two stitches
24. Tearing in order to sew two stitches
25. Capturing (an animal)
26. Slaughtering
27. Flaying
28. Salting
29. Curing hide
30. Scraping
31. Cutting--X, Y
32. Writing two letters--X,Y
33. Erasing in order to write two letters--X, Y
34. Building--X
35. Demolishing--X
36. Extinguishing fire--X, Y
37. Kindling fire--X, Y
38. Striking with a hammer (i.e. giving something its final touch)--X
39. Carrying (in a public domain, or from a private domain to a public domain, and vice versa)--X, Y
I think I've done 19 of these things this week, and I can say with certainty that I am ready to NOT do them again until (at least) sundown tomorrow night-- I'm exhausted. I can only identify 11 that I do in a typical non-sabbatical week. How about you?
Here is a list of those categories with an "X" next to the ones I am aware of doing this week, and a "Y" next to ones I do in a typical week in Oakland, NJ:
1. Sowing--X
2. Plowing--X
3. Reaping--X
4. Binding Sheaves--X
5. Threshing--X
6. Winnowing
7. Selecting--X, Y
8. Grinding
9. Sifting--X
10. Kneading--Y
11. Baking--Y
12. Shearing
13. Bleaching
14. Hackling
15. Dyeing
16. Spinning-X
17. Stretching the threads
18. The making of two meshes
19. Weaving two threads
20. Dividing two threads
21. Tying a knot--X, Y
22. Untying a knot--X,Y
23. Sewing two stitches
24. Tearing in order to sew two stitches
25. Capturing (an animal)
26. Slaughtering
27. Flaying
28. Salting
29. Curing hide
30. Scraping
31. Cutting--X, Y
32. Writing two letters--X,Y
33. Erasing in order to write two letters--X, Y
34. Building--X
35. Demolishing--X
36. Extinguishing fire--X, Y
37. Kindling fire--X, Y
38. Striking with a hammer (i.e. giving something its final touch)--X
39. Carrying (in a public domain, or from a private domain to a public domain, and vice versa)--X, Y
I think I've done 19 of these things this week, and I can say with certainty that I am ready to NOT do them again until (at least) sundown tomorrow night-- I'm exhausted. I can only identify 11 that I do in a typical non-sabbatical week. How about you?
Thursday, June 10, 2010
What it feels like to know the farm
It's only been 11 days, and three of those were on the pilgrimage, but I thpink we're all beginning to feel like we know the farm better and better. We know where things are, more or less; we know how to harvest everything when we need to; we know how to prep it for the CSA and for the farmers market.
We know how to seed, pot up, plant, and weed without further instruction. Pretty amazing!
Now it's time that we can pay closer attention to the plants themselves-- get to know what is plant and what is weed-- get to know what weeds grow around what plants. We're getting to know the various bugs that are attracted to each plant, and which ones are beneficial and which ones are pests.
Today was dry and warm-- a nice change from rainy cool yesterday, and it felt like the farm really came alive after some much needed precipitation.
We're definitely all looking forward to Shabbat; I'll be spending time in D.C. with my cousin Debbie, which should be so much fun, and then Sunday morning, I'm taking my turn to staff the Farmer's Masrket with Alex; we'll see how good a salesman I am!
Off to bed, good an tired...
We know how to seed, pot up, plant, and weed without further instruction. Pretty amazing!
Now it's time that we can pay closer attention to the plants themselves-- get to know what is plant and what is weed-- get to know what weeds grow around what plants. We're getting to know the various bugs that are attracted to each plant, and which ones are beneficial and which ones are pests.
Today was dry and warm-- a nice change from rainy cool yesterday, and it felt like the farm really came alive after some much needed precipitation.
We're definitely all looking forward to Shabbat; I'll be spending time in D.C. with my cousin Debbie, which should be so much fun, and then Sunday morning, I'm taking my turn to staff the Farmer's Masrket with Alex; we'll see how good a salesman I am!
Off to bed, good an tired...
Beard
I'm growing a beard for the first time in my life... some have asked to see pictures, so here we go!
.jpg)
.jpg)
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Tea with Bashir
Today I felt like a real farmer.
We began the day weeding and thinning four long rows of carrots--strange to have to remove so many growing carrots so that the whole rest of the bed can thrive; we then moved on to planting a bed of lettuce, which felt like a nice juxtaposition to the "plantacide" we'd been committing! Just then, it began to rain in earnest for the first time since I arrived here some 10 days ago.
While a few people stayed in the greenhouse to work, two other folks and I headed out the new field in our rain gear to plant eggplant and serrano peppers. In a little over an hour, we planted about 130 plants in the pouring rain. At a certain point of wetness, you're just wet, and more rain can't make you wetter. We hit that point about 15 minutes in, and it honestly felt great. By the end, my jeans were caked from top to bottom in mud (not sure quite how to clean them!), and my hands were just mud pies. I felt like a kid again, only this time, I was SUPPOSED to play in the mud! We got the work done, and returned to camp to dry out and wolf down some lunch.
This afternoon we mostly spent in the greenhouse "potting up" tiny basil and tomato plants which were started about a month ago from seed and were ready to be put into slightly larger containers. Soon, they, too, will be ready for the field. We also started some more tomatoes and squash from seed in tiny little plastic holders, and placed them under a heat light to accelerate their growth. Finally, I harvested some lettuce, garlic scapes, green onions, sugar snap peas, and strawberries for Bashir, as promised. So we really experienced the whole planting cycle today, from seed to small plant, from medium plant to the ground, from thinning the ground to harvest-- a pretty awesome day!
The day ended with a trip first to the bike shop and then to Bashir's house-- so hard to believe that that was just 6 days ago! He greeted me warmly; we exchanged bikes and I gave him the produce; we shared some tea and warm wishes, and I was on my way. I had decided not to tell him about the blown tire; my friends here suggested I could tell him about the tune-up, but it just never came up, and I didn't want to boast about it. Curious what y'all think about that decision...
A good, damp day... Supposed to be dry tomorrow. I'm off to figure out out to wash my clothes...
Lailah tov!
We began the day weeding and thinning four long rows of carrots--strange to have to remove so many growing carrots so that the whole rest of the bed can thrive; we then moved on to planting a bed of lettuce, which felt like a nice juxtaposition to the "plantacide" we'd been committing! Just then, it began to rain in earnest for the first time since I arrived here some 10 days ago.
While a few people stayed in the greenhouse to work, two other folks and I headed out the new field in our rain gear to plant eggplant and serrano peppers. In a little over an hour, we planted about 130 plants in the pouring rain. At a certain point of wetness, you're just wet, and more rain can't make you wetter. We hit that point about 15 minutes in, and it honestly felt great. By the end, my jeans were caked from top to bottom in mud (not sure quite how to clean them!), and my hands were just mud pies. I felt like a kid again, only this time, I was SUPPOSED to play in the mud! We got the work done, and returned to camp to dry out and wolf down some lunch.
This afternoon we mostly spent in the greenhouse "potting up" tiny basil and tomato plants which were started about a month ago from seed and were ready to be put into slightly larger containers. Soon, they, too, will be ready for the field. We also started some more tomatoes and squash from seed in tiny little plastic holders, and placed them under a heat light to accelerate their growth. Finally, I harvested some lettuce, garlic scapes, green onions, sugar snap peas, and strawberries for Bashir, as promised. So we really experienced the whole planting cycle today, from seed to small plant, from medium plant to the ground, from thinning the ground to harvest-- a pretty awesome day!
The day ended with a trip first to the bike shop and then to Bashir's house-- so hard to believe that that was just 6 days ago! He greeted me warmly; we exchanged bikes and I gave him the produce; we shared some tea and warm wishes, and I was on my way. I had decided not to tell him about the blown tire; my friends here suggested I could tell him about the tune-up, but it just never came up, and I didn't want to boast about it. Curious what y'all think about that decision...
A good, damp day... Supposed to be dry tomorrow. I'm off to figure out out to wash my clothes...
Lailah tov!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Call me "The Salad Spinner"
I've decided that that is going to be my professional wrestling name, should I decide to pursue that endeavor as a career. I have spun approximately 45 pounds of lettuce in the past 9 days; I think I've earned the title!
Today I had the privilege of watering the entire new field by with a hose-- 500 tomato plants, and a similar number of squash and melon plants. It was pretty amazing, actually; Sonia and I made a good team moving the hose across 5 fields, each 200 yards or more long. Then when we returned to the greenhouse, I got to water all the plants there.
I'm always amazed by the softness of a baby's feet-- uncalloused and smooth. My feet, on the other hand, are lumpy and bumpy and calloused-- no fun at all. But lest I think my feet are hard as a rock, another strange bit of perspective I gained today: I still have the feet of a baby.
Many of the folks who work on the farm have a habit of walking barefoot all over the place. This skill also came in handy on the pilgrimage, when we walked through streams and those same folks could simply take their shoes off and walk across the rocky stream bed; when I tried that then, I ended up walking like a gorilla with my hands on the ground because the rocks hurt my feet so much.
I decided that today was the day I was going to get my "farm feet" going. We were mulching tomato plants with hay, and I joined some others in taking my shoes and socks off. It was glorious to walk through the rich and soft soil as we lay the bales of hay out bit by bit to keep the weeds away. And walking through the grass was wonderful, too. But the wood chips, the rocks, the hot cement in the greenhouse-- oy, vey! Dan (my tent mate) and others are walking around like its nothing, and my feet feel like I'm walking on hot coals!
Just when I began to feel hopeless, I asked Dan how long it took before his feet stopped hurting. "Actually, they still do, sometimes," he said. "It's mostly a mental thing, getting used to the idea not everything you walk on will be smooth." Well, then.
Tomorrow, "The Salad Spinner" begins his mental preparations to walk on hot coals!
Today I had the privilege of watering the entire new field by with a hose-- 500 tomato plants, and a similar number of squash and melon plants. It was pretty amazing, actually; Sonia and I made a good team moving the hose across 5 fields, each 200 yards or more long. Then when we returned to the greenhouse, I got to water all the plants there.
I'm always amazed by the softness of a baby's feet-- uncalloused and smooth. My feet, on the other hand, are lumpy and bumpy and calloused-- no fun at all. But lest I think my feet are hard as a rock, another strange bit of perspective I gained today: I still have the feet of a baby.
Many of the folks who work on the farm have a habit of walking barefoot all over the place. This skill also came in handy on the pilgrimage, when we walked through streams and those same folks could simply take their shoes off and walk across the rocky stream bed; when I tried that then, I ended up walking like a gorilla with my hands on the ground because the rocks hurt my feet so much.
I decided that today was the day I was going to get my "farm feet" going. We were mulching tomato plants with hay, and I joined some others in taking my shoes and socks off. It was glorious to walk through the rich and soft soil as we lay the bales of hay out bit by bit to keep the weeds away. And walking through the grass was wonderful, too. But the wood chips, the rocks, the hot cement in the greenhouse-- oy, vey! Dan (my tent mate) and others are walking around like its nothing, and my feet feel like I'm walking on hot coals!
Just when I began to feel hopeless, I asked Dan how long it took before his feet stopped hurting. "Actually, they still do, sometimes," he said. "It's mostly a mental thing, getting used to the idea not everything you walk on will be smooth." Well, then.
Tomorrow, "The Salad Spinner" begins his mental preparations to walk on hot coals!
Monday, June 7, 2010
Day 8--A Plot of My Own
Today was the first "normal schedule" day-- 6:30 meditation/study, 7- 9 a.m. work in the field, 9 a.m. breakfast, 10 a.m to 1 p.m. in the field, 1-3 lunch and siesta, 3-4 meeting with various farm professionals to learn about the trade, and 4-6 back in the field-- I am totally exhausted!
We picked out our own plots on the farm today to pay special attention to, and I drew plot 2, also known as Exodus. Appropriate for a sabbatical journey, I suppose! The plot has chard, kale, spinach, sugar snap peas, carrots, and lettuce, for now. I spent much of the day weeding in the pea patch, which was quite difficult but rewarding work-- it was nice to see the beginning, middle, and end of a project.
I got to operate the roto-tiller today, which was amazingly cool. I'm frankly not sure whether I was operating it, or it was operating me-- it's a big, powerful machine!
I felt almost immediately proprietary towards the plot-- work time ended at 6 p.m., but I stayed till 6:30 to uncover the kale and to begin to weed it. I look forward to seeing what will happen in the next few weeks to the plot...
We picked out our own plots on the farm today to pay special attention to, and I drew plot 2, also known as Exodus. Appropriate for a sabbatical journey, I suppose! The plot has chard, kale, spinach, sugar snap peas, carrots, and lettuce, for now. I spent much of the day weeding in the pea patch, which was quite difficult but rewarding work-- it was nice to see the beginning, middle, and end of a project.
I got to operate the roto-tiller today, which was amazingly cool. I'm frankly not sure whether I was operating it, or it was operating me-- it's a big, powerful machine!
I felt almost immediately proprietary towards the plot-- work time ended at 6 p.m., but I stayed till 6:30 to uncover the kale and to begin to weed it. I look forward to seeing what will happen in the next few weeks to the plot...
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Bashir's Bike, or The Keystone Cops Strike Again
On the third day of the pilgrimage, we broke camp at Roy's farm, an amazing educational farm started by one of Jakir's buddies, and headed out on a 15 mile bike ride that would triumphantly end our journey in Baltimore's Inner Harbor.
About five miles into the trek, we hit a patch of glass on the road, and my front tire and the back tire of the bike (riden by Carly) behind me blew. The whole group pulled over, and we began to assess the situation in the 95-degree heat. What was immediately evident was how unprepared we were for the problems we faced. We had a bike repair kit to patch holes, but no bike pump with which to refill the tires, and no replacement tubes if they were beyond repair. Tiferet, one of the Kayam staff members, began to go door to door in the neighborhood looking for a pump, while another staffer headed back to the farm where we had left a pump with the rest of our gear that was to be transported for us back to Pearlstone.
Tiferet soon found a guy named Bashir who had a pump and generously offered for us to use it. Meanwhile, another guy on our trip named Alex-- an expert hydrologist who was along to teach us about the watershed-- got to work dissembling our two busted bike wheels. Tiferet and Bashir camp back with the pump, which it turns out, wouldn't work on Carly's patched tire because the tire had a funky fancy valve. Meanwhile, the pump would have worked on my tire but we could not could not could not find the hole in my tire no matter what we did! And meanwhile the rest of the group was growing impatient and we had an appointment at the Science Museum and a reservation at a cool restaurant named Liquid Earth and another appointment to sail in the Chesapeake Bay to top off the day. And meanwhile, Alex was coming back with a pump we knew would at least fill Carly's tire.
So the rest of the group headed off. And just as they did, a random car pulled up, and out jumped a guy we learned was named Jimmy. Jimmy hopped out of the car and immediately went his trunk with a purpose-- he understood at least part of our predicament right away. He pulled a fancy-shmancy bike pump out of his trunk, and got to work on Carly's tire.
Meanwhile, Carly has gotten into a deep one-to-one conversation with Bashir, who had decided to just hang around and watch the proceedings.We later learned that Bashir is a refugee from Afghanistan; he left after the war broke out in 2002.
Jimmy fixed Carly's tire and puts it back on her bike. He saw me struggling with my tire, and offered to help, but he couldn't find the hole, either. Perhaps it's a slow leak, we wishfully said together. Alex arrived with the group pump just as Jimmy and I were reassembling my tire, hoping against hope that if we refilled it with air, it would hold for a few miles, and we could just keep refilling it. But no sooner do we fill it than it's flat again. Jimmy throws his hands up, just as Bashir says, "would you like to borrow my bike?" I look at Carly, Carly looks at Alex, Alex looks at Jimmy, Jimmy looks at me, as if to say, "is he serious?"
"I'm serious," says Bashir. "I don't need it for a bit-- take it, and I'll hold onto your bike. You can return it when you can."
We're stunned at the kind offer, and, having no other good options, we agree, promising to return the bike with a large share of local, organic vegetables. Bashir brings his bike across the street; he hasn't used it since last fall, so the tires are low on air. We refill the tires, thank Jimmy profusely as he heads out in his car, thank Bashir profusely, exchange contact information with him, and jump on our bikes. An amazing affirmation of my belief that most people, given the opportunity, will do the right thing most of the time.
If only the story ended there.
We ride fast, mostly downhill, intending to catch up with the group. Not 2 miles down the road, I hear a BANG. "Oh, no, oh, no oh no!" I cry. The back tire of Bashir's bike had blown out! This time, there appeared to be no glass on the road, nothing that should have made the tire explode. The three of us got off our bikes laughing so hard we were crying...
An already long story short, we decided that God was trying to send me some kind of message; we sent Alex off with the pump to catch up with the group (in case someone ELSE blew a tire!), and Carly and I caught a bus downtown (an experience in and of itself-- I now know how to operate those funky bike racks on the front of city buses!) and met up with the group at the end of their ride.
I missed not being able to ride the whole trail-- everyone said it was beautiful, and perhaps I'll have a chance to ride it again some other time this summer. But it was Carly who really inspired me to see the blessing in all of the mess-- it was the moment when the tires blew, when the wheels fell off, as it were. that the genuine adventure began. It was the moment when we got to meet real neighborhood people who saw nothing except folks who needed a hand, a pump, some help-- and were willing to give the bike off their own lot.
Postscript: Everyone asked if we walked back to return the bike to Bashir when the wheel blew--we didn't. I just couldn't bring myself to bring back his generous gift in worse shape than when we got it... Joe's Bike Shop in Baltimore is giving Bashir's bike a full tune-up in addition to replacing the tire before I bring it back to him Wednesday or Thursday this week; perhaps I'll have more to report after that reunion!
About five miles into the trek, we hit a patch of glass on the road, and my front tire and the back tire of the bike (riden by Carly) behind me blew. The whole group pulled over, and we began to assess the situation in the 95-degree heat. What was immediately evident was how unprepared we were for the problems we faced. We had a bike repair kit to patch holes, but no bike pump with which to refill the tires, and no replacement tubes if they were beyond repair. Tiferet, one of the Kayam staff members, began to go door to door in the neighborhood looking for a pump, while another staffer headed back to the farm where we had left a pump with the rest of our gear that was to be transported for us back to Pearlstone.
Tiferet soon found a guy named Bashir who had a pump and generously offered for us to use it. Meanwhile, another guy on our trip named Alex-- an expert hydrologist who was along to teach us about the watershed-- got to work dissembling our two busted bike wheels. Tiferet and Bashir camp back with the pump, which it turns out, wouldn't work on Carly's patched tire because the tire had a funky fancy valve. Meanwhile, the pump would have worked on my tire but we could not could not could not find the hole in my tire no matter what we did! And meanwhile the rest of the group was growing impatient and we had an appointment at the Science Museum and a reservation at a cool restaurant named Liquid Earth and another appointment to sail in the Chesapeake Bay to top off the day. And meanwhile, Alex was coming back with a pump we knew would at least fill Carly's tire.
So the rest of the group headed off. And just as they did, a random car pulled up, and out jumped a guy we learned was named Jimmy. Jimmy hopped out of the car and immediately went his trunk with a purpose-- he understood at least part of our predicament right away. He pulled a fancy-shmancy bike pump out of his trunk, and got to work on Carly's tire.
Meanwhile, Carly has gotten into a deep one-to-one conversation with Bashir, who had decided to just hang around and watch the proceedings.We later learned that Bashir is a refugee from Afghanistan; he left after the war broke out in 2002.
Jimmy fixed Carly's tire and puts it back on her bike. He saw me struggling with my tire, and offered to help, but he couldn't find the hole, either. Perhaps it's a slow leak, we wishfully said together. Alex arrived with the group pump just as Jimmy and I were reassembling my tire, hoping against hope that if we refilled it with air, it would hold for a few miles, and we could just keep refilling it. But no sooner do we fill it than it's flat again. Jimmy throws his hands up, just as Bashir says, "would you like to borrow my bike?" I look at Carly, Carly looks at Alex, Alex looks at Jimmy, Jimmy looks at me, as if to say, "is he serious?"
"I'm serious," says Bashir. "I don't need it for a bit-- take it, and I'll hold onto your bike. You can return it when you can."
We're stunned at the kind offer, and, having no other good options, we agree, promising to return the bike with a large share of local, organic vegetables. Bashir brings his bike across the street; he hasn't used it since last fall, so the tires are low on air. We refill the tires, thank Jimmy profusely as he heads out in his car, thank Bashir profusely, exchange contact information with him, and jump on our bikes. An amazing affirmation of my belief that most people, given the opportunity, will do the right thing most of the time.
If only the story ended there.
We ride fast, mostly downhill, intending to catch up with the group. Not 2 miles down the road, I hear a BANG. "Oh, no, oh, no oh no!" I cry. The back tire of Bashir's bike had blown out! This time, there appeared to be no glass on the road, nothing that should have made the tire explode. The three of us got off our bikes laughing so hard we were crying...
An already long story short, we decided that God was trying to send me some kind of message; we sent Alex off with the pump to catch up with the group (in case someone ELSE blew a tire!), and Carly and I caught a bus downtown (an experience in and of itself-- I now know how to operate those funky bike racks on the front of city buses!) and met up with the group at the end of their ride.
I missed not being able to ride the whole trail-- everyone said it was beautiful, and perhaps I'll have a chance to ride it again some other time this summer. But it was Carly who really inspired me to see the blessing in all of the mess-- it was the moment when the tires blew, when the wheels fell off, as it were. that the genuine adventure began. It was the moment when we got to meet real neighborhood people who saw nothing except folks who needed a hand, a pump, some help-- and were willing to give the bike off their own lot.
Postscript: Everyone asked if we walked back to return the bike to Bashir when the wheel blew--we didn't. I just couldn't bring myself to bring back his generous gift in worse shape than when we got it... Joe's Bike Shop in Baltimore is giving Bashir's bike a full tune-up in addition to replacing the tire before I bring it back to him Wednesday or Thursday this week; perhaps I'll have more to report after that reunion!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
