under the sun

So let them continue to have their fun.

But busy ants know

that winter will come

While grasshoppers starve in the cold.

Looking over my notes, clippings, and other idea-starters from the past week, it looks like déjà-vu all over again. Why even bother writing anything new when nothing changes?

Bankruptcies clawed back to a new high after the big rush to beat the stricter new law in 2005. Similarly, home sales dropped after government incentives expired. The Labor Department said employers added 71,000 new jobs last month — far below the 200,000 needed to reduce the unemployment rate, while the census laid off more than 100,000. “The truth is,” the president said, “it’s going to take a few years to fully dig ourselves out of this recession. It’s going to take time to bring back 8 million jobs.” Ho hum. Tell me something I didn’t know.

Most of the Gulf oil has disappeared — or has it? — and Gulf seafood is safe to eat — or is it? Depends on who you ask and what day it is, but nothing changes.

The stock market’s up because of signs the economy is climbing out of the recession, or it’s down on indications that the Great Recession still isn’t over. (The agile creativity of those analysts slays me.)

On the food front, a fourfold increase in reported cases of salmonella resulted in the recall of 228 million eggs. Actually, I found this one rather interesting, for a couple of reasons.

For one thing, all 228 million came from a single company, Wright County Egg, of Galt, Iowa, but with 13 different brands. Talk about an egg factory. The eggs made people sick in Minnesota, Colorado and California. Talk about eating locally. And later that same day the recall was increased to 380 million (that’s nearly 32 million dozen, up from 19 million), with hundreds of consumers sickened in four states. (This morning it’s thousands, in more than a dozen states.)

A news report said the recalled eggs feature Julian dates ranging from 136 to 225. How many people even know what a Julian date is, anymore, or that it’s stamped on egg cartons? (January 1 is 1, December 31 is 365. So 136 is the 136^th day of the year, which in a non-leap year is May 16.) And why are they recalling eggs laid on May 16 in the middle of August? Gives you something to think about — which is why I wrote about such matters in The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Raising Chickens. It has nothing to do with raising chickens, but it might be a good reason to raise them.

Speaking of interesting things many people aren’t aware of, a new survey found that 3 out of 4 Americans believe certain foods are unsafe to eat after the “use by” date stamped on the product. Anyone who has read CIG to Self-Sufficient Living knows that’s not true, and that consumers waste billions of dollars worth of food every year because of their ignorance.

The fact is, you’re more likely to get sick (or die) from fresh foods than from outdated foods. Properly stored dry goods and canned foods can last far beyond their “expiration” date. Anything that goes bad will probably smell and/or look so yucky you won’t need an expiration date to clue you in. (Think of that forgotten mushy black lettuce you dig out of the back of the bottom drawer in the icebox.) The same goes for most frozen foods.

The greater danger is in fresh meat, produce and dairy products, with poultry being the number one culprit. Here cross-contamination (using the same knife and cutting board for raw chicken, and then the salad), temperature control (keep hot foods hot and cold foods cold) and general sanitation are more important than the date.

(The news article only discussed the “use by” date, but the book also explains the meaning of “best before” and “sell by.” “Use by” is the only one worth taking seriously, but even then, use your own judgment.)

Perhaps the most interesting news from Spaceship Earth this week concerned energy. First came a series of reports from the journal Science, looking at not only the many options for renewable energy sources, but at the pros and cons of each. And yes, there are plenty of both pluses and minuses for all alternatives.

In an editorial, editor-emeritus Donald Kennedy pointed out that “The contemporary challenge isn’t that there isn’t enough oil; there is far too much of it.” That’s certainly the case in the Gulf of Mexico today, but he is also talking about emissions from transportation systems, nonrenewable energy sources controlled by empires that threaten global security, and abuses stemming from an overdependence on petroleum.

What about the old homestead idea of cutting back? That came up in another news item, this one about a survey conducted by the Earth Institute at Columbia University asking respondents to name the best ways to conserve energy. The gist of the results: most people thought first of cutting back — turning off the lights, driving less, etc. The researchers said that’s not the right answer. Energy efficiency is more important.

They do have a point, of course. Numerous studies have shown that household-based improvements in energy efficiency would cut emissions way more than fancy government policies such as cap-and-trade. We’re talking about weatherizing homes, using more efficient light bulbs and cars, even little things like changing the air filter in the furnace.

But the part that intrigued me most was the statement that increased efficiency is the only way to dial back, because of basic psychology: we ain’t about to become a nation of pedestrians, let alone do without all our electronic toys and hedonistic possessions.

And they have a point there, too, which is why I’ve been saying nothing much is going to happen until the masses have no choice. When the cheap energy is gone (probably not because we run out of oil, but because it’s not cheap any more), or when the Earth becomes degraded enough to alarm or kill more people, then we might become a nation of pedestrians, simply because there will be no alternatives.

So it was just another normal week on the Spaceship.

Ho hum.

In American bathrooms they’re lurking;

The government limit

is ten quarts a minute

but scofflaws are soaking and smirking.

According to the United Nations, global warming and water shortages are two of the most serious problems facing the world today. As I pointed out in the chapter on Your Water Footprint in The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Self-Sufficient Living, “It’s a huge problem and a huge topic, and every informed person, self-sufficient or not, should know a few of the facts.” But the problem is even bigger and more complicated than I realized. Never mind irrigation, flush toilets, greywater and rain gardens: I could have devoted an entire chapter just to showers.

(True, neither showers — nor the book — have much to do with self-sufficiency, but they’re both very concerned with sustainability.)

For most Americans, a daily hot shower is a God-given right, and for many it’s probably more important than things like free speech or the right to bear arms. However, while “showers” in the form of servants pouring buckets of water on the master predate the ancient Greeks — who had actual plumbed showers — they were quite rare until recently. I remember being impressed by the shower in the Glensheen Mansion in Duluth, Minnesota — in the master’s bathroom. We were told it wasn’t proper for ladies to shower when that house was built in 1905-08.

Our house didn’t have a shower even in the 1940s. Not that it mattered much, because we didn’t have hot water, either. We did have a bathtub, and my mother heated water in a teakettle on the stove. That was Saturday night only, unless somebody got real dirty in-between.

Fast-forward to 2010: The federal government is cracking down on showerheads that defy regulations that have been on the books since 1992. That law says a showerhead can deliver no more than 2.5 gallons of water per minute. The main problem seems to be that, treating a luxurious shower as a birthright, some people want much more. One (now discontinued) showerhead delivered a whopping 12 gallons a minute. Some others are also outta sight. The Raindance has a 24-inch spray face, 358 channels, and a price tag of $5,457. More commonly, upscale bathrooms now have multiple showerheads.

Tree-huggers are obviously moved by the Dept. of Energy claim that each multi-head shower fixture uses an extra 40 to 80 thermal units per year, equal to 50 gallons of gasoline or one barrel of oil. And obviously, all that water has an impact on aquifers, and places additional strains on sewage treatment plants. So yes, limiting the water used in showers is a good idea in terms of national water and energy conservation.

But as usual, there are a zillion other considerations to complicate the matter. There is the question of government intrusion into our bathrooms, of course (just as with low-flow toilets in 1994). Even if we concede that the government should play a role, what rate of water flow is “reasonable,” how long should a shower be — and is a daily douse necessary, or even desirable? What about people who shower once a week — or 2-3 times a day? Should they be treated differently?

Frequent showers interest me in light of my early experience with the traditional Saturday Night Bath. But even when a shower became available, it was seldom used on a daily basis. Most people today would be amazed at what you can do with a few cups of water and a sponge bath.

The 1969 book, Life on Man, by microbiologist Theodor Rosebury, fascinated me with descriptions of the mind-boggling numbers of normal microbial fauna that inhabit the healthy human body (trillions, of more than 200 species). Even more fascinating was the claim that they’re back again within minutes after a bath or shower, and that some are actually necessary for our health.

In modern industrial society showering is basically for social and aesthetic reasons. You don’t need a daily shower to stay healthy. In fact, just the opposite might be true. Researchers at the University of Colorado found that pathogens that occur naturally in low numbers in municipal water can accumulate in high concentrations inside showerheads. In other words, taking a shower can make you sick. (The main pathogen is Mycobacterium avium, which is also responsible for a condition dubbed Hot Tub Lung.)

A typical shower is said to use four gallons per minute, meaning a five-minute shower takes 20 gallons of water (plus the energy to pump and heat it). Restricted-flow showerheads use 2.5 gallons a minute at 80 psi, although most homes have pressure closer to 50. I just checked, and our shower delivers just over one gallon a minute, at about 45 psi. That makes it tough to feel sorry for the bloke who uses 12 times as much.

The next time you’re in the shower remember those people whose daily water ration for everything — drinking, cooking, sanitation — is a mere one gallon a day.

And that virtual water, the water footprint that we talk about in CIG to Self-Sufficient Living? For Americans, that figure is 1,189.3 gallons per person per day, more than three times the Chinese average.

Maybe we need shower police only because too many people just don’t have enough common sense. — Jd Belanger

But how could a guy like me, who keeps saying most people don’t where their food comes from, resist commenting on something like this?

Supposedly, this appeared in a San Francisco newspaper. Because I try to look kindly on all of God’s creatures, my first reaction was that this was one more of those all-too-common internet spoofs: nobody could be that stupid. (On the other hand…)

Or maybe it was meant as satire. You know, a hunter makes this ridiculous statement to point out just how foolish some anti-hunting arguments can be. The trouble is, most people don’t get satire, and one like this, that could be serious, loses some punch because it leaves some doubt.

Whoever started this out took it at face value with the heading “Unkilled Hamburger” and the standard web put-down for such items: “Folks, remember as you read this, this person probably drives and votes AND may have already reproduced! God help us all…”

And then there was the news that the chemical BPA, which recently created such a stir for being in plastic baby bottles, is (and has been) present in almost all cans of food on the supermarket shelves (and in your pantry). Just about everything you eat that comes out of a can contains bisphenol A, which slowly leaches into the food and water. It’s a key compound in the epoxy linings that keeps the canned food fresher longer, and keeps it from interacting with the metal and changing the flavor of the food. But it has also been blamed for cancer, obesity, diabetes and heart disease. So far, no one has found a substitute. Think of the homestead implications I could write about on that one.

Or how about that report on the dwindling nutritional values of fruits and vegetables? Somebody compared USDA data on 43 fruits and vegetables over the years. For example, in 1950, broccoli had 150 mg of calcium: today it has 48 mg. There are reductions in vitamins, minerals and protein, across the board. The reason, some say, is technological industrial farming where selective breeding and synthetic fertilizers are used to increase size and to speed growth.  Another study showed that organic tomatoes can have as much as 30 percent more phytochemicals than the industrial kind.

Followers of J. I. Rodale — and I used to think that included most homesteaders, but now I’m not so sure — knew all of this many years ago, so what else is new?

None of this has much to do with homesteading, per se, but it does reflect on life on Spaceship Earth. In this vein we could also talk about the report that 3,100 firms (and roughly $40 billion a year — just for “intelligence”) are involved in the “war on terror.” Add in all the other expenses, along with the inconveniences and in some cases downright loss of freedoms, and it’s hard to tell who’s winning. One thing’s for certain: the terrorists got a lot of bang for their buck. The implications for self-sufficient living? Hmm.

A family in California made news by telling how they survived — in spite of turning off all of their telephones, computers, and televisions — for one whole day. And the people who think that’s really something special drive, vote and have reproduced. God help us all.

Then there’s the continuing flap over the global warming scientists, the news that China now uses more energy than the U.S., and that China’s population might actual decrease in the years ahead. That one tickles my imagination. Couple that with another recent population figure: The average Amish family has around seven children. The Chinese population dwindles, the Amish population doubles every 23 years — eventually there are more Amish than Chinese — just think of the implications for sustainable living! What a great speculative fiction story that could make!

But as I said, I have too much to do already, and even writing a blog isn’t on the list. At least I  have plenty to think about while I do those homestead chores, beyond the sidewalks. — Jd Belanger

My argument goes like this: About 70% of our energy is used for transportation. How much of that could be eliminated without even getting close to going back to the Stone Age?

One advantage of getting old is that in scenarios like this I can compare today with when I was a kid, 60 years ago. We didn’t have a car.  We had bicycles, but my dad usually walked to work and we walked to school, church, shopping, and visiting relatives. On rare occasions we rode the bus to a nearby town, took the train on longer trips, and in an emergency, there were taxis.

We lived in a small town, but city life was similar. And my country cousins were also able to walk to school, church, and the country store.

Today my kids, their spouses, and their kids all have personal, individual cars. And I honestly don’t think they’re any better off than we were.

So, is the writer cited above talking about an honest-to-goodness primitive Stone Age, or is he just using that as a metaphor for retreating a bit from a civilization that produces (and uses) 1,000 barrels of oil every second of every day? If my childhood was what you want to call the Stone Age, I say, “Bring it on!”

Sure, everything was different then. For one thing, it was possible to walk almost anywhere. But instead of saying it’s impossible to reduce energy use without going primitive, wouldn’t it be more rational to consider making it possible to walk again? After all, we got into this mess only because the automobile made it possible!

If you think this is outrageous, check this out: Some people are actually choosing their homes on the basis of “walking scores.” Web sites such as www.walkscore.com allow you to type in an address in any of 2,500 neighborhoods in the 40 largest U.S. cities and get a rating based on the distance of certain amenities such as shopping. This doesn’t help rural-dwelling homesteaders, but then, we are supposedly more self-sufficient and eco-conscious than the average urbanite anyway. Interestingly, our rural area has seen a recent resurgence in those old-time country crossroads stores, mostly Mennonite. As it is, we often go a week or more without even opening the car door.

And of course, we’re vastly outnumbered by city people, who use most of the petroleum and therefore could account for saving most of it.

Fewer cars and miles traveled would also mean less need for new roads and maintenance, traffic lights and cops. There would be less smog and fewer traffic accidents. We’d spend less on insurance, tires, and batteries.

This is just personal transportation. We haven’t even mentioned transporting goods, especially food, which is the focus of locavores. And what about lawns… and energy slaves…

But oops, I see another argument coming: All that would raise havoc with our capitalist economic system (which is no more pure capitalism than our government is pure democracy), and that would certainly — you guessed it — send us back to the Stone Age!

On second thought, maybe that’s not such a bad idea. Then we could start over again, on a more sustainable — and rational — basis. — Jd Belanger

The effort is tongue-in-cheek and its real purpose is immigration reform, but it made me think about something else.

If you’ve been following my scribblings you’re aware that I’ve been suggesting that many unemployed people could make productive use of their enforced idleness by doing what many employed people dream of, but are too busy to accomplish: homesteading. At the very least, they could grow some of their own food. And you’re also aware that I have been saying (for years) that most Americans have no idea where their food comes from — and that it’s highly subsidized, which is one of the reasons growing your own isn’t always cheaper than store-bought stuff. But this farm workers’ campaign combines all that and more in a neat package, and ties it with a bow.

The U.S. Dept. of Labor says three out of four farm workers were not born in this country, and more than half are here illegally. A small part of this complex issue involves the concern that illegal aliens are working, while American citizens are not. So the United Farm Workers are saying, “come on, take our jobs!” not because they expect very many takers, but because the lack of enthusiasm for that back-breaking kind of labor will spotlight the need for immigrant workers.

I have had some experience with this. The first time in my life I ever made more than $100 a week was as a migrant laborer. That was in 1953, when $100 was big money. The catch: the pay was 90¢ an hour. (Side note: That was a decent wage. I worked many jobs for 75¢ an hour, even years later.) That means an average 14-15 hour workday, although I vividly recall one sweltering June morning when we started at 6 a.m as usual, worked straight through to 2 a.m. the next day, and went back to work at 6 again.

And I was 15 years old. Even then, nobody wanted to work like that, so the 16-year age limit was lowered to help save the crop.

This was in a Wisconsin pea cannery, in the days before peas were combined in the field. Truckloads of pea vines were dumped and forked into the viner by hand. The shelled peas spilled into wooden boxes, while the vines piled up in huge stinking stacks. My job was to remove and stack each box as it was filled, replacing it with an empty. The guys forking the vines into the shelling machine worked a lot harder than I did.

A few years later, I found myself in California, nearly broke and with nothing to do. So I signed on to pick green beans, by hand. We were paid by the pound.

Little kids picked more than I did, and made more money. (They also spoke much better Spanish.) A buddy and I combined a day’s wages to buy a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter, which is all we had to live on. Shortly after that I enlisted in the Marine Corps, where the pay was $90 a month, but at least we got to eat. (A few years later I was back with the migrants, but that time to interview César Chávez, founder of the United Farm Workers, for a magazine article.)

Based on those experiences alone, I don’t foresee many average American citizens rushing to become farm laborers, even when their unemployment checks run out. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t really expect very many to become homesteaders, either. We as a nation have become too soft to do much actual physical labor, too dependent to scratch for ourselves, and too mentally lazy to figure it all out.

So the long spiraling vortex down the tube continues, with apparently nobody seeing the tangled webs and connections, much less able to deal with them. I certainly don’t have any answers — aside from homesteading, which is only slightly more popular than picking beans for The Man in triple digit temperatures.

When it all hits the bottom, that’s when things will change. Seems like that time is getting closer and closer.

Note: If you’re looking for work, fill out the online form under the banner “I want to be a farm worker” at www.takeourjobs.org