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Over the weekend I had a chance to visit with my cousin and her mother, my aunt. My aunt has retired from 30+ years of Extension work; working extensively throughout the state of Mississippi. During our conversation we happened on the subject of community development. A point to which we both agreed was the need for a spiritual awakening, behavioral changes, a new perspective, and a local dynamic leader. I'd mentioned a town we were both familiar with in the Delta. The overall development of this town was comparable to that of a grossly underdeveloped country. The people, however, were not agitated. They were not happy or pleased, yet, they were not motivated to action. They had seemingly become satiated by the gifts, rather crumbs, bestowed upon them by the few influence-having, power-welding, resource-holding people and/or groups in town.



On one of our earlier trip through the Delta, JR had informed me to look for the houses on hills located throughout the Delta. He indicated that these beautiful, ornate, monolithic houses were once the homes of slave and plantation owners. The houses were build on hills (some man-made) so that the owners could oversee their investments. The houses on the hill represented sight, perspective, status, and control. They were the literal representation of the owner's figurative position.

Upon entering this particular Delta community, a massive plantation home sits greeting each entrant to the town. My introduction to the town came one foggy, damp morning. I was with a small group and we drove up to the house. The house sat empty and is rumored to have been vacant for years. The town is almost completely African-American. The literacy rates, health disparities, and economic indicators make this one of the least developed, poverty entrenched areas in the country. Ironically, the overseer no longer has to be even physically present to exert his domination. Sadly, this house sits as a reminder, in some sense, of the psychological conditioning that needs to be overcome both regionally and culturally.

Food for Thought

In the office a group of us jokingly refer to ourselves as the members of the "Yellow Card Club". Through AmeriCorp's mission of eradicating poverty, the organization familiarizes its program participants with the stifling, interconnected difficulties of poverty by entrenching them in it. AmeriCorp VISTA's do not receive a salary; instead we receive stipends which are set at 105% of the local poverty determinant. All that to say we qualify for food stamps. In Mississippi, food stamps come in the form of bright yellow EBT cards. Unlike Minnesota where the EBT cards are a pretty lavender, Mississippi's neon cards end your anonymity at the cash register. However, I have no shame. I proudly pull my EBT card out of my wallet at check out time blessed and relieved to have food assistance. In November I made a six week menu so that my November food stamps would last until I left for Minnesota on December 20. Additionally, knowing I would be gone for 2 weeks, I emptied most of my cupboards and rid the kitchen of perishable food items. While in Minnesota, I used my entire December allotment to stock my parents' refrigerator. It was the least I could do (for proof, check out the first blog). Unfortunately I'd made a miscalculation. I would be home (in Mississippi) a full 8 days before my January stamps would load. During my first week+ home, I made a menu and stuck to it - making meals out of very little. On Thursday I'd run out of magic. Friday I went to work with a lonely piece of toast in hand. One of the organizations I work for was hosting a meeting/training in my building. Before the meeting they informed me that the RSVP list was low and that they had ordered fruit, pastries, and lunch but would probably have leftovers. At lunch I stopped by the meeting and grabbed a lunch box with a wrap, brownie, and fruit. I ate half the wrap for lunch and saved the rest of the lunch. That afternoon a colleague informed me that a local fast food restaurant was giving coupons for a free dinner if you registered on their webpage. I registered, printed the coupon, and saved it for Sunday. After the meeting/training taking place in my building was finished the hosts, my supervisor and another colleague, invited me and those left in the office to grab the leftovers from the meeting. I grabbed a cup and filled it with fruit and I packed a plate with three pastries. I had to laugh at myself as I went to my car that evening with a boxed lunch, a cup of fruit, and a plate of pastries. However, I began to think. I've been to several events where I've seen young and old alike packaging food as if they have none at home. The sobering reality is that increasingly they do not. Unlike me, many do not have the safety net of friends and/or family that can provide or even supplement basic needs. I live off the stipend AmeriCorp provides, however, if need be, I can tap my bank accounts, utilize credit cards, or simply ask my parents, family or friends. Food security is an issue in rural and urban, southern and northern, and black and white communities that can be positively affected. Too many people are exhausting themselves trying, unsuccessfully, to stretch their thin resources to the beginning of a new cycle. This is just some food for thought.

December Furlough

I'm not much of a journal keeper. I tried for a year, back in 2001, when Oprah told everyone how cool it was. It was not. My attempt at keeping a daily journal that year ended in a file that was impressive, yet short of the requisite 365 entries. Here, I find myself again committed to a weekly journal with no December entries! Oh well, maybe the end will be as impressive, even if short, as my 2001 venture. With so much to say, and so much to update all of you blog readers about, I will try to be short, if not sweet, yet thorough. Let's start with work.

WORK:
One of the reasons (read: excuses) I have no December entries is because December was quite hectic at work. Since beginning in August, my focus has been on health and healthy initiatives. Back in December we ('we' being the organization I work most directly for - Institute for Community-Based Research) began an assessment of alternative food systems in the Delta. An alternative food system can be any system that adds relief or removes one from the familiar grid of large-scale agribusiness -- such as big name grocery stores. These can include the use of farmers' markets, CSA's, buying locally, and use or participation in cooperatives. Specific focus for this assessment was giving to farmers' markets. JR and I traveled across the Delta interviewing farmers, restaurant owners, and market managers. After several drafts, the first phase of the assessment was written and completed at the end of December. Meanwhile, the Center for Community and Economic Development (CCED), the organization that houses my office and for which I also work, had some of its own requests for me. In addition to the seemingly numerous holiday parties I helped plan, attend, etc., I also was asked to attend a health conference in Jackson. All of this in an abbreviated month. The CCED closes, along with the university, for 2 weeks in December. So on Friday, December 20, I turned in all of my reports, packed my bags, and headed north.

PLAY:
Not much play was taking place during the 3 weeks I spent in Cleveland during December. In fact, I learned in December that much more play was necessary on my part for my own sanity. The month started weakly and turned downward from there. In the south there seems to be, what I shall term politely as, a directness. Now I'm all about being truthful and direct, but this is going to take some getting used to. Perhaps I have become too 'Minnesotan' and grown used to the 'Minnesota Nice' methods of indirectness. So, when I walked in to work and heard, "Are you pregnant?" and "Dang, you're getting thick" I was left with that deer-in-the-headlights response. Unfortunately they were right -- I had gotten "thick". More play was definitely necessary. I immediately asked my boss for a student pass enabling my access to the gym. You all will be proud to note I am back down to my slim self and am practicing a 'Just Say No' policy to weekday lunches at the Catfish Cabin, Southern Grill, and Country Platter.

My boss warned me about the rains in the Delta. With all of the flat land, the Delta has difficulty draining all of the rain water. My advice was to avoid Bishop Street like the plague and, in case I did get caught on a flooded street, drive all the way through. Do not stop. Do not take your foot off of the accelerator. Otherwise, the water would backlog into your engine, kill your car, and require an expensive rebuilding of your engine. Well the first piece of advise was problematic. I live .9 miles from my office and the only street that takes me there is - of course - Bishop. During a day of intermittently intense rain the CCED Director allowed everyone to leave early to avoid the flooding. I jetted out the door hoping to get up Bishop. I hit the 30 mph street at 40 mph. I was 2 car lengths away from the turn into my complex when the interior lights in my car began to flash and my steering wheel got tight. I eased to the median, hoping to avoid the standing water near the curb and make it home. I didn't. My car stalled on Bishop. The rain seemed to laugh at me, pouring onto the roof of my car with growing excitement. Then came the lightning. The hospitality I'd initially felt in the Delta was being washed away as car after car passed my low-riding Honda with the Minnesota plates and blinking hazard lights. I sat there too scared to get out and anxious about making a cell phone call for help in the middle of a puddle during a thunderstorm. Finally a man turned around and 'bumped' me to my apartment. I was so grateful. As a VISTA I have no salary. Instead, I earn a stipend which places me intentionally at the poverty line - similar to those I work with and for. Knowing how much money I make (or rather don't make) I commenced to crying in my room like a little baby. I couldn't, nor can't, afford a new engine. Thankfully one of my supervisors, who happens to live in the same complex, knew of a 'shade tree mechanic'. When it was all said and done he charged me for towing and a new filter. The charge was less than $100. My sense of Delta hospitality had been renewed.

Finally, my tumultuous December was looking up. On Saturday, December 20, I boarded a plane to Minnesota. Once back home I was able to see my parents and many of the friends I had missed. I was reminded of the importance of social interaction and the need for friends and play. Being able to plug into the world with people you know, like, and trust is so important. I felt my spirit being renewed - and just in time. Christmas was excellent. My mom, as always, decorated the house. Perhaps because Mississippi has no distinct winter season, this Christmas seemed special. There was a nostalgia about home this time. The two weeks blew by.

Now I'm back home in the Delta. The air is cold, but it's no Minnesota. Time is beginning to fly. Seven months left. Let's see if I can keep up.