I'm taking a break from posts exploring my failed relationship to focus on values and issues related to  our local/ regional food systems. I just spent the past two days at the Annual Gathering of the Farm-to-Plate Network, Vermont's statewide network of state agencies, non-profits, education community, businesses, technical providers, farmers, and others connected to our food system. This is a phenomenal conference in its 5th year.

I attended a session on Thursday about values in our local/ regional food system. On Friday, I attended a session about scaling up the food system, featuring a variety of producers, from the small scale company sourcing 90 - 99% of its ingredients from Vermont to the Woodchuck cider rep talking about buying apples from Argentina and Washington state.

What are the values we place on our food system? Are they the same as labels? Does "Vermont made" carry the same weight as "organic", "local", "grassed", "GMO free", etc.? An example came up about someone who comes to the Vermont Food Venture Center from Virginia to make a hot sauce with jalapeños and mangos then sells it back in Virginia under the label "Vermont made". He doesn't sell it here or use Vermont ingredients, but he makes it here. Does Woodchuck carry the same value as Citizen Cider or Eden Ice Cider?

What does "local" mean anymore? If none of your ingredients are from Vermont, is it still local? If you try to source a product from within a certain number of miles, is that local, even if it's not from a geographic boundary? If you live in Swanton or Newport, buying from Quebec is "local", more local than buying something from Bennington or Brattleboro. Conversely, if you're in Brattleboro, New Hampshire or even Mass. is "local". In Bennington, it could be New York grown products. Local is all relative.

I heard an economics professor talk about how he hates vehicle miles traveled labels put on products. But why not? I use my example of my co-op: it favors products that are organic, rather than conventional. Is buying a butter from Maine made with organically produced milk "better" than buying Cabot butter? It depends on your values. If we place a higher value on organic but need to ship the product hundreds of miles, what good does that do our environment? Our transportation costs have just increased, thus decreasing our air quality and emitting numerous pollutants into our environment. And, we shift the cost burdens onto our road network and transportation system while perpetuating the idea that we need fossil fuels to power our economy. So while that farm is using organic practices (that may or may not be ecologically sound), any environmental benefit is essentially offset by shipping costs.

"Organic" isn't necessarily better if the organic practices aren't ecologically sound. Sure, a farm may not be using pesticides or other chemicals, but if the farm is still using tilling practices, that is just as harmful for soil and water quality as no-till. And again, what is the benefit? Sure, you don't use chemicals but if your tilling reduces your soil health causing increased run-off and microbe demise, what's the difference?

I would prefer to buy Cabot butter, and I would prefer to buy it from my co-op. At least I know that my neighbors are getting a paycheck. I know that my state is benefitting. I know that my rural countryside is being protected. All of us who live in Vermont NEED that rural aesthetic. We need the working farms. We need the Cabot farmers. Without them, we don't have the working landscape that drives our tourism economy. We don't have the people to come here. We have the trees, the picturesque villages, the rolling hillsides, the cows and barns. You don't have that in New York City or Brooklyn or Boston, so you come here. If our farms can't make a living, then what do we have? We have those city dwellers building McMansions on our beautiful hillsides. We have Wal-Marts that can move in. But my co-op doesn't carry that product so I must go to the chain supermarket.

To me, knowing that my dollars go to support my neighbors and fellow Vermonters is far more important than importing food. Ultimately, I think we need to be able to feed ourselves. It's great that Jasper Hill Farm is able to sell internationally. It's great that breweries are entering New York City markets. It's great that Sweet Rowen Farmstead and Harlow Farms are able to sell at markets in Brooklyn. But we have far too many people here in Vermont that have never heard of Jasper Hill or Sweet Rowen. We continue to import food products here in Vermont while we export similar products. Many Vermonters can't afford to buy those premium products. And yet, we look at the ability to enter the out-of-state market as the panacea and the gold standard.

We have a real hunger problem in Vermont. And I think we're about to have an identity crisis. What does it mean to be a Vermont company or a Vermont product? It's great that we have businesses that can sell and make such a premium off of products sold out of state. But again, at whose expense? It's still our roads that bear the brunt of those vehicle miles. It's our air quality. It's our water quality. It's our soil health here in Vermont. It's our standard of living. It's our wages. I love that businesses are expanding. But given our hunger issues here and that the markets ARE NOT tapped out with local products, shouldn't we place a higher value onto our local businesses so they can thrive HERE? And if people can't afford the products made here, we're failing!

It's a personal struggle that isn't at all easy. I want to support my local businesses but at the same time, I want them to share my values. When my local brewery spot runs out of my favorite beer because they've just shipped their kegs to "the City", that turns me off. I'm a regular here; I want to know that you're looking out for your regulars. I want to now that you share my values... that you appreciate those of us who supported you while you were getting started and will continue to support you even after "the next big thing" hits the market. That has to mean something, right?

It's not easy... and I don't envy any business for having to make that decision. But I think as an entrepreneur, you have to be willing to take a chance, and you have to be willing to defend the choices you're making. If it's merely about the bottom line, as a consumer, I can't support that. I want to know that you're looking out for our community the same way that I'm looking out for my community by supporting you financially.

At the same time, I would like producers to get creative. The easy stuff is done - the market is saturated by salsa and hot sauce (I was so glad to hear this validated! I said this three years ago!); we have produce and bread and dairy, even plenty of alcoholic & non-alcoholic beverages. NOW WHAT? What are the products that we don't have enough of? Think of a typical meal and what the average family eats: do we have that available locally? And, is there more than one option? That's the other thing - competition can be good. As consumers, we want to have choices! We want more than one option. So what's next? What else can be made or packaged or processed? This is a challenge I throw out there. And, can it be organic? Can it be local? Can it be ethical? Can it be affordable?

This is the challenge the next generation of entrepreneurs faces. And by next generation, I mean both young and the next crop of people with an idea. Let's see what can happen! It's exciting, and it's hard. There's no easy answer. But I would love it if we, as a state, could pull together some standards by which we measure our food system. It's not enough to say that our goal is 10% "local" by 2020; we need to know what that means. We need to consider the triple bottom line and then some: we need to know that wages are fair, ecology is a factor, and that Vermont means something really special... really uniquely "Vermont". We have those values, but can we define them for our food system?

4 years later...

It's been almost four years to the day since I've written a blog post. An email reminded me I even had a blog. So much has happened in those four years but I'm finding myself back at the place I was. In January 2011, I wrote about readjusting to life back in the U.S. after being a Peace Corps Volunteer. Those days in Fiji are a distant memory. It took many years to not think about the people, smells, sights, and day-to-day activities every single day. What I'm struggling with is how I'm now back at where I was, readjusting to a new place, only I'm in a different location and a completely different state of mind.

I currently live in Vermont, in a small, rural northern town. I own a house I'd like to sell. I moved here with someone I loved and with whom I thought I could start a life. I have a job in my field that I loved, but now struggle to focus on, finding myself needing to be an advocate rather than settling for the political compromise. I don't know what my next step is. I have the option to go anywhere, do anything. Does life always upheave all at once?

And yet, I don't have options. I'm constrained by financial reality. I'm constrained by fear. I'm terrified to be separated from the pup that is my best friend. I'm haunted by moving to this beautiful, lonely place with someone I don't recognize anymore. We live together but we're worlds apart. I don't know how or when it started to feel so distant but when I'm not feeling scared, anxious, or incredibly sad, I don't know how to feel. I don't know whether to change everything or to keep some pieces constant.

Vermont is a wonderful place. It's stunning. People are laid back and easy. Everything is hyperlocal because it HAS to be, not for any gimmick. People are hardy and tough. It isn't easy to live here. Sometimes I recall my days as a PCV. I live 20 minutes from town and the silliness of driving to town for a slice of pizza because I'm too lazy to cook gets me every time. I rely on the car, which after four years still seems unbelievable to me. We don't have the simple pleasures out here that being in a town or city offers.

My last posts were largely about environmental issues. Two summers ago, the Ex and I had a garden plot. Big dreams we weren't prepared to realize. One afternoon when we were working the land, we had two of his friends visit us. We started talking about a documentary they watched about the plastic island in the ocean. The Ex decided to tell them about me drinking out of a Styrofoam cup at an event the week before. They were incredibly offended. Without knowing anything about me or my experiences, they proceeded to ridicule me for this action.

What they didn't know, or understand, or care to hear, is that the event I attended was a summit with others from our area to talk about the future of the "Northeast Kingdom", the three northeastern counties in Vermont which are the most rural, dispersed, and financially challenged. Yes, I drank coffee out of a Styrofoam cup. Did I buy the cups? No. But one of the things you learn as a Peace Corps Volunteer is how to integrate. To refuse to drink a cup of coffee among the diverse attendees of this summit would have been elitist of me because I was better than Styrofoam. I never want myself to be perceived as "better than" someone else. Could it have been a teachable moment? Of course.

Rereading that post about having to think about every single piece of refuse in Fiji reminded me of that exchange. I was made to feel like an awful person when in reality, this couple had absolutely no idea what I had been through or how I live my life today. My house is heated primarily with wood, a renewable energy source. I despair when I have to drive for things or needlessly drive around. My trash is minimal and I recycle everything as much as possible. I always carry my reusable bags and I refuse receipts when possible. I don't buy things like paper napkins or paper towels or plastic bags. I compost. I'm an incessant re-user and primarily buy things secondhand. I buy organic, from co-ops, direct from farmers, and from local businesses as much as possible. I try so hard to minimize my footprint.

Why does this story matter? In the scheme of life, it doesn't. But reading that post from 2011 reminds me that I am on path. I don't need the judgement of others to justify my actions. Not being born in the Northeast Kingdom means I need to integrate if I am ever to be respected or heard. In the scheme of life, me drinking out of a Styrofoam cup led to an awareness about the type of people I want to be surrounded by. Being thrown under the bus by my Ex was something I didn't expect but showed me his true colors. (Since then, he's thrown my entire personality under the bus, even specifically mentioning that couple.) In the long run, it was one of those things that had to happen.

As we work to untangle our lives, I've been thinking more and more about my time in Fiji. That post in 2011 made me think I was on track to do something really profound and to achieve the plans I had in my life. The separation from my Ex was a serious detour. I will not have a family by age 30. I will not be in a career that will last the rest of my life. I'm not yet the person I wanted to be - or want to be -, but I'm getting there. I'm re-learning who I am.

My life has taken a very unexpected course. It sucks and it's not easy. Every day is a challenge. I teeter between tears and sadness, anger and betrayal, jealousy and heartache. I'm not yet independent and strong but I'm on the road to recovery. Breakups aren't easy, especially when you've invested so much of your life in someone else.

I was so much wiser four years ago. People change. We're not static beings. I realized that then. I'm again in a weird grey area - do I stay here or do I go? Vermont has grown on me. I love it here, simply put. But I miss my family, my friends, my social support in the Midwest. I miss the conveniences of being in a city. I miss the ability to realize minimizing my impact on the environment. I mean, really, urban areas have a lower carbon footprint than rural areas! (We tend to just ignore that fact here in Vermont because we're surrounded by trees.)

This post is rather pointless, but it has made me think about using this as an outlet to sort through the tough questions and issues in life, and to document the readjustment of this phase of my life. My life is very surreal right now and rather absurd. Maybe one day I can write about it more. I wish I had an instruction guide for how to go through a separation where you still live with the person and he's moved on very quickly. Especially as an introvert... living in an extroverted place full of adventurous people during tumultuous change can be overwhelming for quiet, shy, homebodies like me. Our tendency is to pull in even more.

I need to repeat what I wrote four, almost five, years ago, because really, we repeat ourselves in life, and I'm back to where I was four years ago:

Am I readjusting?  Slowly.  Slowly.  I’m moving forward, and that’s a good sign