Published March 26, 2014 in Tulare County's Foothills Sun-Gazette
My desk is still covered with books on California water and news articles on the current drought after last week's writing binge for the Bee. Bill McEwen, the editorial page editor, has made space for me there because "it's giving our readers a look at ag, water, people and towns that they can't get anywhere else."
I wasn't sure their readers would care to hear about our lives here in the small-farm, small-town citrus belt. His generous editing of the first two pieces, however, makes it clear that we have at least one listener, and a very tender ear at that.
For Saturday's edition (Mar. 23,) I wrote about the forgotten law, expanding what we published here two weeks ago. It seems to me that the coalition of groups seeking drought relief is in particular need of reminding.
"We don't want handouts - we want H2O!!" screamed signs from a rally in Firebaugh pictured on the Bee's cover last week. Water is one of the handouts those huge landowners have been getting for fifty years through the San Luis Unit of the Central Valley Project, plus a mobile labor supply for their plantations subsidized by the public through state and federal food, health and education funds. But there was no one in Firebaugh that day to tell them that, or to remind them of the strings attached to that water. That's probably good: there might have been a lynching.
While feelings flared in Firebaugh, nine farmers testified about the drought's impact before a US House Natural Resources Committee in Fresno. A Kern County farmer told of his decision to "dry up" 1,000 acres of almonds, blaming "shortages that were created and controlled by regulations that have been imposed and brandished like weapons."
That would be State Water Project water he's missing. Do you know what it costs us, the state taxpayers, to store water in Oroville, ship it through the Delta, and then pump it UPHILL all the way to Kern County so he can grow almonds where sagebrush normally reigns? So he can compete against almond growers in the Sacramento Valley, where they normally would have received Feather River flows stored at Oroville? Some almond growers should be singing Hallelujah.
Then there's Harris Ranch, vitriolic opponents of the acreage limitation since they first got whiff that it applied to "their" water from San Luis Unit. An article in Sunday's Bee described Harris's plans "to idle thousands of acres of cropland" in order to "coax a respectable bounty of almonds, pistachios and asparagus, permanent crops that can't be fallowed." (So much for Hallelujah, you other nut growers.) One Harris executive said "In a normal year, 72 million heads of lettuce would come out of this ground."
After reading that, I started having daymares as I scanned groceries at the market, mentally seeing the produce prices this summer skyrocket beyond my customers' ability to buy. "Enjoy those tomatoes," I encouraged them, wondering what we'll do for salsa and salad by June. But maybe that will make a window of opportunity for our local produce growers and backyard gardeners who can make every spare drop of water count. We'll see.
The real relief we might get from this drought is from the dominance of the industrial food growers - if we can keep them from taking their unfair share of water. I know that's a big IF, but if we don't, we'll be even more subject to their demands when this is over.
The drought relief we really need comes only from above and from within: measurable precipitation and hearts willing to share the shortage. That's not what those water coalition people are clamoring for. For me, it would be a big relief if they'd just stop talking.
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Trudy Wischemann is a water researcher who writes. You can send her your drought relief ideas c/o P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a message below.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Knickknack Wisdom
Published in edited form March 19, 2014 in Tulare County's Foothills Sun-Gazette
I was reading in the Book of Job earlier this week, in Eugene Peterson's bible The Message, and came across a useful phrase in Chapter 13, verse 12. In Job's response to the advice of one of his friends, what the New International Version translated from the Hebrew as "Your maxims are proverbs of ashes," Peterson translated into American English as "Your wise sayings are knickknack wisdom." I love the poetry of the NIV, but the clarity Peterson provides can't be beat.
The moment I read those words I realized that's what I've been hearing at City Hall this past month. I mean Lindsay's City Hall, of course; maybe you hear the same kind of "wisdom" at your council meetings. Maybe that's what's being spoken in most governmental bodies, I don't know. But knickknack wisdom is what prevails here in my adopted home town. A perfect example of that is provided by the contrast between two items of intense public interest covered at the last couple of council meetings: water and pets.
At the Feb. 25 meeting, Councilwoman Rosaena Sanchez presented a study session on mandatory water conservation measures. I've never seen a council member present a study session before: study sessions usually come from staff for the council to consider. She did not have a Power Point presentation or handout - she simply wanted to discuss the possibility of moving from voluntary measures to something more guaranteed of success in saving our frighteningly limited water supplies, especially since City Hall is doing very little to promote voluntary measures. Given the drought we're headed into, the fact that we're getting only emergency deliveries from the Friant-Kern Canal (our major source of water) and our countryside orange-growing neighbors who provide more than half of our jobs aren't getting any deliveries from the Friant-Kern, the topic appeared timely to me.
Councilwoman Sanchez did not receive much in the way of support. Except for Councilman Mecum, who was absent for good reason, the other council members disdained from joining in her concern. Mayor Padilla tried to keep a conversation going by asking questions, but Councilman Salinas flatly said he didn't think they were necessary and Councilwoman Kimball said she didn't think we should be telling people how to water their lawns. Finally, City Manager Rich Wilkinson said the point was moot, that the high cost of water was a natural limitation on how much people use, so let's move on.
Directly following her study session was another provided by City Planner Bill Zigler titled "Study Session for Keeping Fowl and Other Animals Within Residential Districts." Prompted by a man downtown who has a problem with a neighbor's rooster, Bill presented a detailed list of current laws available for dealing with problem roosters and other animals and the difficulties the City has enforcing them. Council directed him to solicit ideas about animals from the public, which he did.
Just two weeks later, at the March 11 meeting, Bill presented a survey answered by 29 people (0.0003% of the population) which he had carefully analyzed statistically, graphed and then delivered in a colorful Power Point presentation. From these data he concluded that the public is in favor of limiting the number of animals per household to somewhere between 5.5 and 10, depending on how you viewed the statistics. After much discussion, the Council directed him to work up a draft animal control ordinance for the City of Lindsay, which will be presented at the March 25 council meeting.
Is it just me, or does anyone else see a terrible confusion of priorities here? I'm as disturbed as the next person by seeing dogs running loose in the street, concerned for their safety as well as the public nuisance. But the water I see running in the gutters from careless lawn overwatering disturbs me far more, the clear evidence that we are not shifting down HARD in our consumption of water while our neighbor orange growers face losing not just their crops, but their groves.
It baffles me why we're not even being asked here in Lindsay to gear down our water use, to shift our priorities from maintaining our leafy-green well-to-do appearance to maintaining our community integrity. Are they afraid we might actually respond, cut our consumption in half, and cut their water revenues in half, too?
Providing water is one of the City's primary responsibilities. They need to be figuring out how we can work together as a community to ensure that everyone has enough, not just those rich enough to pay the price of a green lawn. Maybe if we learn to work together on that, we'll develop the neighboring skills we need to deal with problem animals.
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Trudy Wischemann is a water researcher who has taken in 'way too many animals off the streets. You can send your water conservation and/or animal control ideas to her c/o P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a comment below.
I was reading in the Book of Job earlier this week, in Eugene Peterson's bible The Message, and came across a useful phrase in Chapter 13, verse 12. In Job's response to the advice of one of his friends, what the New International Version translated from the Hebrew as "Your maxims are proverbs of ashes," Peterson translated into American English as "Your wise sayings are knickknack wisdom." I love the poetry of the NIV, but the clarity Peterson provides can't be beat.
The moment I read those words I realized that's what I've been hearing at City Hall this past month. I mean Lindsay's City Hall, of course; maybe you hear the same kind of "wisdom" at your council meetings. Maybe that's what's being spoken in most governmental bodies, I don't know. But knickknack wisdom is what prevails here in my adopted home town. A perfect example of that is provided by the contrast between two items of intense public interest covered at the last couple of council meetings: water and pets.
At the Feb. 25 meeting, Councilwoman Rosaena Sanchez presented a study session on mandatory water conservation measures. I've never seen a council member present a study session before: study sessions usually come from staff for the council to consider. She did not have a Power Point presentation or handout - she simply wanted to discuss the possibility of moving from voluntary measures to something more guaranteed of success in saving our frighteningly limited water supplies, especially since City Hall is doing very little to promote voluntary measures. Given the drought we're headed into, the fact that we're getting only emergency deliveries from the Friant-Kern Canal (our major source of water) and our countryside orange-growing neighbors who provide more than half of our jobs aren't getting any deliveries from the Friant-Kern, the topic appeared timely to me.
Councilwoman Sanchez did not receive much in the way of support. Except for Councilman Mecum, who was absent for good reason, the other council members disdained from joining in her concern. Mayor Padilla tried to keep a conversation going by asking questions, but Councilman Salinas flatly said he didn't think they were necessary and Councilwoman Kimball said she didn't think we should be telling people how to water their lawns. Finally, City Manager Rich Wilkinson said the point was moot, that the high cost of water was a natural limitation on how much people use, so let's move on.
Directly following her study session was another provided by City Planner Bill Zigler titled "Study Session for Keeping Fowl and Other Animals Within Residential Districts." Prompted by a man downtown who has a problem with a neighbor's rooster, Bill presented a detailed list of current laws available for dealing with problem roosters and other animals and the difficulties the City has enforcing them. Council directed him to solicit ideas about animals from the public, which he did.
Just two weeks later, at the March 11 meeting, Bill presented a survey answered by 29 people (0.0003% of the population) which he had carefully analyzed statistically, graphed and then delivered in a colorful Power Point presentation. From these data he concluded that the public is in favor of limiting the number of animals per household to somewhere between 5.5 and 10, depending on how you viewed the statistics. After much discussion, the Council directed him to work up a draft animal control ordinance for the City of Lindsay, which will be presented at the March 25 council meeting.
Is it just me, or does anyone else see a terrible confusion of priorities here? I'm as disturbed as the next person by seeing dogs running loose in the street, concerned for their safety as well as the public nuisance. But the water I see running in the gutters from careless lawn overwatering disturbs me far more, the clear evidence that we are not shifting down HARD in our consumption of water while our neighbor orange growers face losing not just their crops, but their groves.
It baffles me why we're not even being asked here in Lindsay to gear down our water use, to shift our priorities from maintaining our leafy-green well-to-do appearance to maintaining our community integrity. Are they afraid we might actually respond, cut our consumption in half, and cut their water revenues in half, too?
Providing water is one of the City's primary responsibilities. They need to be figuring out how we can work together as a community to ensure that everyone has enough, not just those rich enough to pay the price of a green lawn. Maybe if we learn to work together on that, we'll develop the neighboring skills we need to deal with problem animals.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Trudy Wischemann is a water researcher who has taken in 'way too many animals off the streets. You can send your water conservation and/or animal control ideas to her c/o P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a comment below.
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Remembering the Forgotten Law
Published in edited form March 12, 2014, in Tulare County's Foothills Sun-Gazette
"Check the back page of the sports section in the Bee," said my friend Walt Shubin, the radical retired raisin grower who supports restoration of the San Joaquin River, referring to the weather page. "Look at the reservoir statistics, see what San Luis has."
You'd have to be steeped in water poitics to know the meaning of his question, but San Luis Reservoir is the joint state/federal off-stream dam project that serves Westlands Water District and the state water contractors south of Westlands on the valley's west side, some of the driest, salt-laden land that should have been left to sagebrush and jackrabbits. As of Sunday, March 9, 2014, the holdings of San Luis have increased over 100,000 acre-feet since Feb. 16th, while Millerton, the reservoir that fills the Friant-Kern Canal which serves us here on the east side, has decreased almost 15,000 acre-feet, despite the rain two weeks ago.
You'd have to have read the papers over the last 40 years to realize why that's important: those "growers" on the southwest side of the valley are agricultural giants who have controlled not only California's water politics but also many other areas of the state's decision making for almost a century. They've controlled the discussion of water, the words we use, the facts we're allowed to know. In doing so they've caused us to forget the law that brought all this water into being, water which, until now, we've taken for granted.
"No right to the use of water for land in private ownership shall be sold for a tract exceeding 160 acres to any one landowner," begins the forgotten clause in the National Reclamation Act of 1902, which initiated federal investment in water development in the western U.S., "and no such sale shall be made to any landowner unless he be a bona fide resident on such land, or occupant thereof residing in the neighborhood of said land."
Known as the acreage limitation provision, this one sentence, designed by the originators of the Reclamation Bureau to protect the entire country from the ill effects of land speculation and water monopoly in the West, has been the source of enormous battles in legislatures and courts as the administrators of federal water projects closed their eyes and delivered water to the big boys. One of those battles over the Central Valley Project went all the way to the Supreme Court, which ruled in 1958 that the acreage limitation applied to the CVP, stating "The project was designed to benefit people, not land."
The acreage limitation drew attention in the 1976-1977 drought, when water shortage provoked the question who should get the limited supplies. Secretary of Interior Cecil Andrus began investigating the possibility of enforcing the 160-acre limit, which triggered a series of legislative moves to increase the acreage allowed, remove the residency clause and destroy the law altogether. Most people think that was finally accomplished in 1992, when environmentalists teamed up with the large landowners and created "water marketing," thinking they were negotiating a deal for more reasonable use of the state's water supplies. Instead they opened the door to even bigger give-aways like the Kern Water Bank now controlled by Stuart Resnick's Paramount Farms and Tejon Ranch, who are profiting directly from water sales to urban development, skipping the dirty work of farming except where it's profitable.
But they cannot erase the intent of the law, the purpose of investing the tax dollars from every citizen in the United States over the last 100+ years to make water available for agriculture in the West. The purpose was to build homes and farms, to build an evenly-distributed rural economy that would then develop the kinds of towns we find on the east side of the valley, but not the west side.
In forgetting the law, they have forgotten the people. They have benefitted land and its largest owners to the detriment of whole communities: small farmers and townspeople whose fates are indelibly linked. The entire purpose of the Reclamation Act has been sabotaged by the federal government's failure to enforce its own law, and we, the people, have been paying the price in terms of lost farming opportunities and rural towns' declines. But those losses will look small when we start paying the big boys' price for water, and we see who gets to survive.
Unless, of course, we decide not to remain "forgotten."
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Trudy Wischemann is a student of reclamation law and the common good. You can send her your ideas about how to become remembered c/o P.O. Bo 1374, Lindsay, CA 93247 or leave a message below.
"Check the back page of the sports section in the Bee," said my friend Walt Shubin, the radical retired raisin grower who supports restoration of the San Joaquin River, referring to the weather page. "Look at the reservoir statistics, see what San Luis has."
You'd have to be steeped in water poitics to know the meaning of his question, but San Luis Reservoir is the joint state/federal off-stream dam project that serves Westlands Water District and the state water contractors south of Westlands on the valley's west side, some of the driest, salt-laden land that should have been left to sagebrush and jackrabbits. As of Sunday, March 9, 2014, the holdings of San Luis have increased over 100,000 acre-feet since Feb. 16th, while Millerton, the reservoir that fills the Friant-Kern Canal which serves us here on the east side, has decreased almost 15,000 acre-feet, despite the rain two weeks ago.
You'd have to have read the papers over the last 40 years to realize why that's important: those "growers" on the southwest side of the valley are agricultural giants who have controlled not only California's water politics but also many other areas of the state's decision making for almost a century. They've controlled the discussion of water, the words we use, the facts we're allowed to know. In doing so they've caused us to forget the law that brought all this water into being, water which, until now, we've taken for granted.
"No right to the use of water for land in private ownership shall be sold for a tract exceeding 160 acres to any one landowner," begins the forgotten clause in the National Reclamation Act of 1902, which initiated federal investment in water development in the western U.S., "and no such sale shall be made to any landowner unless he be a bona fide resident on such land, or occupant thereof residing in the neighborhood of said land."
Known as the acreage limitation provision, this one sentence, designed by the originators of the Reclamation Bureau to protect the entire country from the ill effects of land speculation and water monopoly in the West, has been the source of enormous battles in legislatures and courts as the administrators of federal water projects closed their eyes and delivered water to the big boys. One of those battles over the Central Valley Project went all the way to the Supreme Court, which ruled in 1958 that the acreage limitation applied to the CVP, stating "The project was designed to benefit people, not land."
The acreage limitation drew attention in the 1976-1977 drought, when water shortage provoked the question who should get the limited supplies. Secretary of Interior Cecil Andrus began investigating the possibility of enforcing the 160-acre limit, which triggered a series of legislative moves to increase the acreage allowed, remove the residency clause and destroy the law altogether. Most people think that was finally accomplished in 1992, when environmentalists teamed up with the large landowners and created "water marketing," thinking they were negotiating a deal for more reasonable use of the state's water supplies. Instead they opened the door to even bigger give-aways like the Kern Water Bank now controlled by Stuart Resnick's Paramount Farms and Tejon Ranch, who are profiting directly from water sales to urban development, skipping the dirty work of farming except where it's profitable.
But they cannot erase the intent of the law, the purpose of investing the tax dollars from every citizen in the United States over the last 100+ years to make water available for agriculture in the West. The purpose was to build homes and farms, to build an evenly-distributed rural economy that would then develop the kinds of towns we find on the east side of the valley, but not the west side.
In forgetting the law, they have forgotten the people. They have benefitted land and its largest owners to the detriment of whole communities: small farmers and townspeople whose fates are indelibly linked. The entire purpose of the Reclamation Act has been sabotaged by the federal government's failure to enforce its own law, and we, the people, have been paying the price in terms of lost farming opportunities and rural towns' declines. But those losses will look small when we start paying the big boys' price for water, and we see who gets to survive.
Unless, of course, we decide not to remain "forgotten."
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Trudy Wischemann is a student of reclamation law and the common good. You can send her your ideas about how to become remembered c/o P.O. Bo 1374, Lindsay, CA 93247 or leave a message below.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Teaching Forgiveness: How Writers Serve
Published March 5, 2014 in Tulare County's Foothills Sun-Gazette
After hearing of yet another outrage emanating from Lindsay's City Hall, last week I began reading a book I found in the San Joaquin Valley Library System called Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy. The title intrigued me enough to order the book, although the subject was somewhat daunting. What it covers is the Amish community's response to the schoolhouse massacre at Nickel Mines, PA in 2006, which took the nation by complete surprise. What it flushes out is the meaning of forgiveness, the faithful reasons the Amish practice it to the best of human abilities, and what gives them the strength to be different from the rest of us.
We would not have this insight into the incredible phenomenon that was widely reported in the media more than 7 years ago, then lost as other tragedies took our attention, but for the three authors of the book. Donald B. Kraybill, Steven M. Nolt and David L. Weaver-Zercher are all college professors and scholars of religious history with particular emphases on the Amish. As academics, they might have watched the events unfold in Nickel Mines long-distance, written a commentary or two, and continued with their teaching and administrative duties. But at least one of them, Donald Kraybill, responded in the flesh, finding his way to Nickel Mines by sun-up the morning after the shooting. His first-hand account of the place and the people gives us, the readers, an intimacy with the situation that brings home the reality of the tragedy and the transcendence so that we can understand how they are intimately linked.
The Amish themselves would not have taught us this. They are quiet, humble, unassuming, and keep to themselves for spiritual reasons as well as practical ones. Coming from a faith tradition replete with persecutions, the Amish to this day must practice a kind of protective reserve to fend off harassment and vandalism by ignorant neighbors and passersby. After this tragedy was put to rest, most would have been grateful to return to anonymity in that rural place.
But these three scholars saw the light go on for the rest of us, and put their minds together to create a delicate, yet penetrating examination of the role of forgiveness in the Amish tradition and its roots in the Christian faith. Published in 2007, the book has now sold over 100,000 copies and been translated into several languages, including a Chinese edition that will be released this year. The website, www.amishgrace.com, includes a 9-page discussion guide that can be printed directly and used with reading groups.
The language is beautiful, clear and understandable. The book is graciously laid out, with line spacing wide enough to make the paragraphs pleasant to take in. The subject of forgiveness and its root, faithfulness, is explored non-judgmentally, with an even hand, as though these authors might be sitting in our armchairs with us, wondering what does it mean, these people and this tragedy, then guiding us gently through their understanding of the relationship. It's a book I certainly needed to read, and given the dissension and conflict in churches right now, probably many Christians would benefit from going through these pages.
It might even help down at City Hall.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Trudy Wischemann is a civic watchdog with a tendency to hold grudges. You can send her your favorite gripes and their antidotes c/o P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a comment below.
After hearing of yet another outrage emanating from Lindsay's City Hall, last week I began reading a book I found in the San Joaquin Valley Library System called Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy. The title intrigued me enough to order the book, although the subject was somewhat daunting. What it covers is the Amish community's response to the schoolhouse massacre at Nickel Mines, PA in 2006, which took the nation by complete surprise. What it flushes out is the meaning of forgiveness, the faithful reasons the Amish practice it to the best of human abilities, and what gives them the strength to be different from the rest of us.
We would not have this insight into the incredible phenomenon that was widely reported in the media more than 7 years ago, then lost as other tragedies took our attention, but for the three authors of the book. Donald B. Kraybill, Steven M. Nolt and David L. Weaver-Zercher are all college professors and scholars of religious history with particular emphases on the Amish. As academics, they might have watched the events unfold in Nickel Mines long-distance, written a commentary or two, and continued with their teaching and administrative duties. But at least one of them, Donald Kraybill, responded in the flesh, finding his way to Nickel Mines by sun-up the morning after the shooting. His first-hand account of the place and the people gives us, the readers, an intimacy with the situation that brings home the reality of the tragedy and the transcendence so that we can understand how they are intimately linked.
The Amish themselves would not have taught us this. They are quiet, humble, unassuming, and keep to themselves for spiritual reasons as well as practical ones. Coming from a faith tradition replete with persecutions, the Amish to this day must practice a kind of protective reserve to fend off harassment and vandalism by ignorant neighbors and passersby. After this tragedy was put to rest, most would have been grateful to return to anonymity in that rural place.
But these three scholars saw the light go on for the rest of us, and put their minds together to create a delicate, yet penetrating examination of the role of forgiveness in the Amish tradition and its roots in the Christian faith. Published in 2007, the book has now sold over 100,000 copies and been translated into several languages, including a Chinese edition that will be released this year. The website, www.amishgrace.com, includes a 9-page discussion guide that can be printed directly and used with reading groups.
The language is beautiful, clear and understandable. The book is graciously laid out, with line spacing wide enough to make the paragraphs pleasant to take in. The subject of forgiveness and its root, faithfulness, is explored non-judgmentally, with an even hand, as though these authors might be sitting in our armchairs with us, wondering what does it mean, these people and this tragedy, then guiding us gently through their understanding of the relationship. It's a book I certainly needed to read, and given the dissension and conflict in churches right now, probably many Christians would benefit from going through these pages.
It might even help down at City Hall.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Trudy Wischemann is a civic watchdog with a tendency to hold grudges. You can send her your favorite gripes and their antidotes c/o P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a comment below.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
In Lieu of Flowers
Published Feb. 26, 2014 in Tulare County's Foothills Sun-Gazette
"I'm out of work again," a mid-life man told me in a quiet moment at the market last week. There was time to inquire, so I did. He worked in parts for HVAC units, and "since nobody has money to get their coolers fixed," his job disappeared.
"I'm still recovering," said another man the same night. Retired, he works on demand for a florist. Valentine's Day is their Christmas, the heaviest day of the year. He made 60 arrangements in a two-day period; this was the best year they'd ever had.
There was a beautiful graveside service for Tammy McCall on Thursday. The obituary said that, in lieu of flowers, people could donate to their favorite animal shelter or rescue organization. Luckily, some people ordered flowers: their beauty is a salve for the pain we face staring down the reality of death. I'm sure the florists appreciate it, too.
I've never had the money to participate in that level of society, nor did my parents. I can remember very few times they were compelled to order flowers for a funeral or go buy a plant in pretty foil paper. Just recently I bought a plant at SaveMart for someone who was dying, compelled to spend grocery money on beauty instead of bread. Knowing her love of flowers, I wanted there to be some near when she opened her eyes for the last time. But I haven't had my furnace serviced in years, and I only pray that my ancient AC wall unit will work come summer.
It's hard not to see that the life some of us have had is dying. The news is jammed with debates over the efforts in Sacramento and Washington to resuscitate the economy: will raising the minimum wage help workers or kill jobs? Will the national health plan improve living conditions for more people than it will hurt? The ones it is hurting are raging enough to go to war. "Arrest Obama!" was the battle cry of some people that same night at the market. "You had your chance Friday," I said to them, "he was in Fresno." "He was?" they replied, looking at me blankly.
And now, with the water thing, or the lack of water thing, the zero allocation thing, I wonder why we're bothering to debate at all. "California's water system was designed for 24 million people," a knowledgeable friend said, "and now we've got 40 million. What are we supposed to do?" "Migrate," was the first word out of my mouth, since all I can think of most days is getting back to western Washington where rain is so plentiful people die of scurvy. But having lived in California for the last four decades, will my home state recognize and welcome me? Or will they smell the sunshine in my bones and put up a barricade? "Don't Californicate Oregon" was a popular bumper sticker in the 70's when I lived there. If we started moving north en masse, it could get worse.
So I don't know what to do but stay put, hunker down, and keep carrying buckets of saved household water to the plants outside. In lieu of flowers, I've cut my showers, clothes washing and dish washing, micromanaging every drop of water for the best use I can imagine, all so that I won't sign my own death warrant. But when the time comes, I hope there's a rose or two to lay on my grave.
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Trudy Wischemann is a hydrologically inclined writer encamped in a semi-desert. You can send your desert rose raising tips c/o P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a comment below.
"I'm out of work again," a mid-life man told me in a quiet moment at the market last week. There was time to inquire, so I did. He worked in parts for HVAC units, and "since nobody has money to get their coolers fixed," his job disappeared.
"I'm still recovering," said another man the same night. Retired, he works on demand for a florist. Valentine's Day is their Christmas, the heaviest day of the year. He made 60 arrangements in a two-day period; this was the best year they'd ever had.
There was a beautiful graveside service for Tammy McCall on Thursday. The obituary said that, in lieu of flowers, people could donate to their favorite animal shelter or rescue organization. Luckily, some people ordered flowers: their beauty is a salve for the pain we face staring down the reality of death. I'm sure the florists appreciate it, too.
I've never had the money to participate in that level of society, nor did my parents. I can remember very few times they were compelled to order flowers for a funeral or go buy a plant in pretty foil paper. Just recently I bought a plant at SaveMart for someone who was dying, compelled to spend grocery money on beauty instead of bread. Knowing her love of flowers, I wanted there to be some near when she opened her eyes for the last time. But I haven't had my furnace serviced in years, and I only pray that my ancient AC wall unit will work come summer.
It's hard not to see that the life some of us have had is dying. The news is jammed with debates over the efforts in Sacramento and Washington to resuscitate the economy: will raising the minimum wage help workers or kill jobs? Will the national health plan improve living conditions for more people than it will hurt? The ones it is hurting are raging enough to go to war. "Arrest Obama!" was the battle cry of some people that same night at the market. "You had your chance Friday," I said to them, "he was in Fresno." "He was?" they replied, looking at me blankly.
And now, with the water thing, or the lack of water thing, the zero allocation thing, I wonder why we're bothering to debate at all. "California's water system was designed for 24 million people," a knowledgeable friend said, "and now we've got 40 million. What are we supposed to do?" "Migrate," was the first word out of my mouth, since all I can think of most days is getting back to western Washington where rain is so plentiful people die of scurvy. But having lived in California for the last four decades, will my home state recognize and welcome me? Or will they smell the sunshine in my bones and put up a barricade? "Don't Californicate Oregon" was a popular bumper sticker in the 70's when I lived there. If we started moving north en masse, it could get worse.
So I don't know what to do but stay put, hunker down, and keep carrying buckets of saved household water to the plants outside. In lieu of flowers, I've cut my showers, clothes washing and dish washing, micromanaging every drop of water for the best use I can imagine, all so that I won't sign my own death warrant. But when the time comes, I hope there's a rose or two to lay on my grave.
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Trudy Wischemann is a hydrologically inclined writer encamped in a semi-desert. You can send your desert rose raising tips c/o P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a comment below.
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