The Most Spoiled Generation

My grandparents struggled first through the Great Depression as children, then, through the greatest war in the history of this earth, WWII. My father was raised to make as much money as possible and not to spend it. I was raised by a rich father, but not spoiled due to his frugality. In college I was surrounded by young adults with similar socioeconomic backgrounds as I, though most felt entitled to luxury.

As my college career was winding down, I found a great trend in my generation of expecting things to land in our laps. I recall one girl's comment about Obama's election as expecting him to "fix things." Nothing could have bothered me more. When did our country stop being ruled by the people? When did we surrender our power to change things? The answer, of course, is never but we will never change anything unless we the people do it.

The recent eco-revolution-- act global, buy local and organic-- is an example that touches base for me. The complexities of this concept philosophically are best for a different toned blog, but it became apparent that the common thought was the government was responsible for doing this. People I had befriended throughout my years gardened, hunted, and foraged because it was inexpensive and a lifestyle. It wasn't a political move for us to teach ourselves self sufficiency, it was what made us happy. It derived from the desire to separate ourselves from the consumer, materialistic culture that plagues this country. In fact, most government programs, notably the EPA, have hindered farmers.

On Africa, the farming is all local and organic and 80% of the population farms. On North America, the majority of the farming uses pesticides, though more organic pesticides are being developed to suite the demands for organic produce, and less than 8% of our population farms. I do not usually throw out statistics, but it takes a lot of labor to produce food organically. This is a point that I cannot ignore, despite my wanting to beleive that utopian permaculture is possible.

To finish my message to my spoiled generation, do not expect society and industry to change for you, this will only prolong the current system. If you want something, then build it. Somewhere along the line our society went from builders to buyers, it's time to look at a new angle.

Try this: Walk outside. Dig your hands into something dirty like soil or mulch. Then take three deep breaths and find something to sit on for 10 minutes... OUTSIDE. Ask yourself a question (NOT a 'yes' or 'no' and preferably something you don't know the answer to) and try to answer it.

Culture as Imagination

Culture might be defined as the stuff we pile on top of our basic needs. Our clothes, our food, the things we think about everyday. Our clothes may as well be sacks that we use to keep ourselves warm. Our food may as well be what our bodies need to function. But, our cultures make these things much more complex. We can view someone with the right hair and clothes and think that they belong in some ideal world where everyone would "be" a certain way. Our imaginations create a sort of simulated world view based on our culture. And, because we are constantly surrounded by the culture we know, we live in the reality of our imaginations.

Kayaking Estero Bay

Florida and fishing go together like birds and feathers. A Floridian without a fishing pole is blasphemy. Bass Pro Shops provide a fisherman’s paradise of lures, worms, and equipment. My boyfriend, Jake, has been fishing his entire life and had bought a boat two years ago. Shortly after we started dating, he discovered it at the bottom of the bay because it got caught under the dock one night. After realizing that he shouldn’t buy a new boat, the idea of a kayak with a trolling motor fancied him. We shopped for several weeks and finally found a great deal on two 17’ Tarpons with rudders.

Jake, my friend Christina with her maltise, Rio, and me with my mutt, Kiwi, set out for Weeks Fish Camp last weekend each in our own kayaks. We got in the water around 2:30pm and had about 4 hours until sundown. As we paddled across the bay Kiwi paid close attention to Jake, about 15 feet away, and finally dove into the bay and swam straight over to his boat. She repeated the feat 3 times over—once swimming back to my kayak and another time swimming to Christina and Rio. I was a very proud dog owner.

We found a lagoon where fish were jumping everywhere we looked, so I put a shrimp on my hook and cast away. I caught a kitty then a beautiful trout which became the night’s dinner. We decided to paddle further across the bay. A pod of manatee was coming up for air in one small channel. My thoughts were “I don’t think we should paddle over them,” but we did. When they were coming up for air again, they saw the kayaks and split. Now, when a whale is startled it leaves a large wake, I was in the wake of about 50 manatee! At first I thought they had all blown out their air at once because there were just 50 huge bubbly wakes shifting my kayak. Shortly after this, Kiwi went kamikaze and dove in the bay… she is a curious animal.

The next day, the three of us set out for another day of fishing. We started out at Weeks again, but strong winds were driving the current against us, so we set out for a lagoon nearby. Hours past and no one caught anything but ladyfish and catfish.

One of the catfish I caught left me and Christina in the most comical mess we’ve been in so far—and that’s saying a lot. I caught it in the middle of the lagoon, and since I am inexperienced with removing the hooks, Christina came to my “rescue.” As I was trying to tame the flopping fish, avoiding its spines, a fish eating Anhinga came to claim it. For those of you who don’t know what Anhingas are, they are large water birds that dive down to get fish. You see them mostly fluffing their feathers in the sun at water’s edge. So, as I am waiting for Christina to get to my kayak I had to fight the fish on the end of my line and the bird that was diving underwater to get to the struggling fish! Finally the bird-brain forgot about the fish and Christina was holding my kayak.

The current was strong and pushing us toward the mangroves. Christina is afraid of the creatures living in mangroves (spiders, alligators, etc) so she attempted to paddle both of us away from them. The current won and we settled under a tree with a flopping catfish and Kiwi. Jake came to the rescue, released the poor fish, and quickly fled the messy scene cursing under his breath. By that time, Christina had gotten her line tangled on my rudder AND in the mangroves. To make things worse, Kiwi got curious once more and dove into the brumble of mangroves. When I was free from Christina’s fishing line, and Kiwi was safely back in my boat, we found a shady place where the current couldn’t take us and cracked open a cold beer laughing.

Though we did not bring dinner home that night, I learned a valuable lesson… how to handle a catfish by myself!

The Kiwi "Fruit" DePierre

Kiwi came to me in a box at a farm. I was terribly worried when I told the farmer I would adopt her since HIS dog (Kiwi's dad) was quite possibly the ugliest dog to walk the earth. The crazy, wirey hair, overbite, and the fact that the dog was less than 10lbs. I have always had black labs, except one malamute mutt, so adopting this tiny 2lb puppy was very risky. So, Kiwi rode around with me on an ATV that first day, and we bonded.

From day one she has had a mind of her own... and her little obsessions. She is smarter than you want a dog to be as she will poop in the house out of spite-- like a cat. She is obsessed with balls and sucking on her stuffed bunny's butt. She is also a freak about hiding her toys. It took her a while to figure out that under my butt was not a good hiding spot for her bones. She tried to hide here giant Christmas bone but did not dig a large enough hole for it. I think she stared at it for a while before picking it up and finding a new spot.

The dog is so full of adventure though. Without wining, she rode in a Jeep without doors, boats, and a kayak. The Kayaking was awesome with "the fruit" because she would jump out of one to swim to another.

Anyways, I guess it's a good thing I like my dog since they live for 15 years!

Florida Life

Southwest Florida has proven to be a bazaar place. In Fort Myers during Spring Break season, you never know who is here to stay or who is just passing through. Even if I happened upon a couple of local boys, they may have been looking for Spring Breakers to get some quick action. The people here are different and I will do my best to explain why I think climate and weather make people act the way they do.

I have now lived in three very different climates. Northern California gets into the 100’s and dry in the summer, but can get cold in the winter—occasionally snowing. People there are very relaxed and balanced. I think that since there is such a good dose of the seasons they are able to find the balance in life they are looking for. In Pennsylvania it is cold. The summers can be warm and humid, but the heat does not compare to California or Florida. People there are very reserved, cold, and generally unsmiling. Once the weather warms up, however, everybody plays. The beauty of Pennsylvanians is that they find pleasure in the small, beautiful things like rhododendron blooms in June and the silence that comes with snow. The change of seasons in Pennsylvania is so dramatic that you are whirled into a cycle dictated by nature.

Florida I have not quite figured out yet. It seems that Floridians are all about playing. People work to get by, but their life is not their work. I like this trait. So far, I have not met many vacationers. They are pretty easy to spot… but the locals I have met seem troubled. I have met two people so far that share my mentality, but I cannot get hold of either of them. I met my neighbor, she is outgoing and smart, but recently betrayed me in our latest outing. So now I am back to me, myself, and I.

Though I am alone here, it is my curiosity that keeps me tied to this place. I am not ready to pick up and leave, I just got here. My job with Bayer will end; I will not sell pesticides. I am tired of moving, tired of not knowing where home is, tired of worrying where I will be next month, and I am tired of not knowing where I fit. This is where my responsible self meets my hippie self. (Originally posted March 2010)