The internet is fertile ground

In gratitude to reading, commenting, thinking, and writing

Escalante Community Garden in Tempe, AZ.

I have the threads of an essay unraveling in my head, but ran out of time to braid them for today’s missive. So for something a little different, I’m going to share quotes from my reading this week that will give you an idea of the future essay.

Before that, thank you so much for reading and commenting. I’ve written newsletters before – I wrote one for my copywriting/editing business for over a year (2018ish) and I wrote one called The Ponder that some of you may remember in 2020ish. I’ve also helped others work on newsletters for their businesses. And before all that, I attempted blogging off and on since I was in high school in the late aughts (one I fondly remember I did my mom and we called it AZ hEats and blogged about food in Arizona. RIP.) Part of the reason none of these past projects stuck for longer than a year is my tendency toward being a generalist and an idea person (whatever that means) who gets easily bored with myself. Another part is that I didn’t get many readers and comments, and after a while that gets lonely.

Heading into The Good Enough Weekly, I knew why I was doing it: to push myself to publish regularly, to gain some visibility, to build toward bigger writing projects. I didn’t assume I’d find you – a generous group of readers (many of whom are also writers whose work is vital to my reading) who engage with me and leave comments that feed the virtuous cycle of reading, thinking, writing.

1. 

“The question ‘What was that seed before this somewhat arbitrary point in time?’ goes largely unasked, feeding the erasure of Indigenous, enslaved and peasant contributions to agrobiodiversity. And this ‘beginning’ becomes the last page of the seed’s story, which is repeated as well-meaning seed savers strive to preserve the seed so it grows like it’s almost always been grown. Heirloom seeds get frozen in narrative time.” –Chris Smith, Stop obsessing over heirloom seeds and let plants change (The Guardian) 

Chris is the author of The Whole Okra: A Seed to Stem Celebration and Executive Director of the Utopian Seed Project based in Western NC. The opening few lines of this article made me smile (he compared criticizing heirlooms to picking on a grandma) and also opened up part of the conversation around food and hunger that I don’t always see addressed. How can people who are dedicated to food (like those preserving heirloom varieties) remain open to change that will benefit the planet and more of its inhabitants? 

2. 

“This is the survivor of colonialism’s original sin in this boundless desert, the importation of wheat that defined the border between Euro, indigenous, and the intermarriage of those and more further south in Mexico—wheat flour used in place of nixtamalized corn as sustaining food: the anti-bread. The essence of the borderlands.” –John Birdsall, Revenge of the Colonized.

I’m so excited to discover John’s newsletter Shifting the Food Narrative that focuses on queer and other less orthodox food stories, with an eye on areas around Tucson, AZ, which is less than two hours southeast of where I live. His most recent essay takes us to the borderlands at Tumacácori National Historical Park where he ate a wheat tortilla, beans, and salsa and wrote about the multi-layered history of the place.

3.

“We have an expectation that every package of dates (or raisins, or red seedless grapes, or whatever) we buy from the grocery store will taste the same. In 1955, Roy Nixon of the USDA published a report of thirty-nine different unique American varieties of dates. Current Ark of Taste dates are included on his list, but there are also lost dates like the rich, sweet Desert Dew and the foggy-skinned Smoky. Where are these dates now? Were they not worth propagating, or are they treasures waiting to be rediscovered?” –Sarah Lohman in her new book Endangered Eating: America’s Vanishing Foods 

Whenever my family and I drive to California, we pass Dateland and although I’ve never stopped I’ve been interested in the history of the area and why/how dates came to grow there. The first chapter in Sarah’s book answered my questions and more. I appreciated her expansion into questions about what consumers expect, and where those expectations come from (often government agendas!)

4.

“To all people who have invited me to speak at your venues, planted my seeds, listened to my stories, cuddled my plants, and consumed my life and the lives of my people and my plant kin to fulfill and cover the hollowness of your spirits- I am so sorry that I engaged in the illusion of community. We have been clearly speaking about different things. Our love of plants and trees is not one measured by money or status. They are literally our kin. Our love of land is not a performance. But why am I surprised when I watched you over and over read land acknowledgment on land you have stolen while flaunting Native American crops as gifts of friendship but you have NEVER done the right thing and given them their LAND BACK.” –An excerpt from Vivien Sansour’s recent Instagram caption.

Vivien is an artist, storyteller, researcher and conservationist who founded the Palestine Heirloom Seed Library. Her caption stopped me in my tracks. As someone who lives in the Salt River Valley on ancestral territories of Indigenous peoples, including the Akimel O’odham (Pima) and Pee Posh (Maricopa) Indian Communities, I think about this a lot: The land has not been given back. The land could be given back, but it hasn’t been. I can’t pretend to know what people in power are thinking, but I would guess that there is a complete disregard for the absolute possibility of making reparations. Past actions can’t be changed, but there are many things that can still happen to make amends. 

5.

“The nurturers never become the nurtured. When we need it, it doesn't come. I need it now, but nobody knows what to do. They love to tell me how strong I am, as though staying alive is so brave.” –Lexi Kent-Monning in her debut novel The Burden of Joy.

I’m lucky enough to know Lexi (we met through Chelsea Hodson’s Morning Writing Club, which you should totally consider joining) and got to ask her some questions which will be published soon. One of the things we talked about was how her book felt like a lament. It is both a sad book, and a deeply hopeful and embodied one. 

Writing, for me, is a way of nurturing myself, my community, my interests, and my hopes. The three days leaving October and transitioning into November (Halloween, All Saints’ Day, and All Souls’ Day) are a time I think about the ones I love who’ve died and my own mortality. My family and I honor this time with a mix of our Irish, Catholic, and Mexican heritage, with candles, an altar, pictures, stories. 

Honoring our dead and death itself reminds me to be as present as I can while I’m still alive. I don’t presume on a long life, but I can do a lot to fill each day with people and work I value. The internet can be a wasteland, but it’s also a place where I find connection and learn from so many people, like you. Sometimes I get overwhelmed or tired in my daily life and leave fewer comments, and I know I’m not alone there. But I wanted to take today to reflect on the incredible fact that we are alive at the same moment and able to get to know each other and find common causes to fight for, together. Thank you.

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Reading – All the above!

Writing – This and the other project in my life: Sour Cactus Crew’s monthly newsletter. Subscribe if you’re interested in AZ community service opportunities or our principles of hyper-local, non-hierarchical social justice work. Read last month’s issue here.

Cooking – Oatmeal. Lentil and vegetable soup. Eggs and toast. In my mind, I made At Heart Panadería’s Pan de Muerto and the soul cakes Jolene linked to for Day of the Dead / All Souls’ Day.