Post-Election, 2024

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The rallying cry heard recently is “we’re not going back.” Yet here we are. It may be helpful to remember that there have been plenty of other times in US history where we’ve been divided, sometimes quite bitterly and violently.

So I returned to the farm in East Tennessee this week, not just to rejuvenate and reflect, but to mourn what might have been and commune with the ancestral spirits here, who came from both sides of a great divide. And in this area, throughout much of the 19th century, that divide was an almost unimaginable chasm. Our family tree has a number of soldiers who served in the Union Army in the Civil War, as well as some others who were slave owners. We have a historic document in our family archives, a bill of sale from 1835, wherein an ancestor sold a 14-year-old negro girl named Polly to his son…for a dollar.  (My dear aunt Margaret wrote a book on the subject; link in the comments below.)

The source of my grief this week is not just losing an election. It’s a deep realization of how despicable and yes, deplorable, the American people can be. And, as a poster on Daily Kos wrote:

"Worse still we have a time sensitive catastrophe barreling down upon the planet. We have just completely sold future generations (e.g. children alive now and probably those under 40) down the extinction river for some lies about immigrants and egg prices. We have to accept that our nation has brought ruin upon the world and the people that made the choice are greedy, selfish, and yes very very stupid."

2 - Dessicated

It’s very dry on the farm; little rain for the last 5 weeks. Happily, this condition made my work this trip much easier, as moisture content is low and everything is brittle. Our tenant farmer Tyler said he’s done cutting hay for the season and will leave the fields with about half growth (some places more) over winter, which should help the soil condition next year. He assured me it’d be okay to drag trees and branches across the fields to a location I’ve been using for many years at the old pond place in the northwest field. The pond had water in it when I was a boy, but it silted in about 40 years ago. (The hydrology of the area is fascinating and complex, with caves, sinkholes, and underground streams.) Now the pond place is a wonderful thicket with a few large oaks; a hiding place in the center of the farm for deer, wild turkeys, groundhogs, hawks, owls, buzzards…and this week, me.

3 - Momentum is my friend

There’s a certain speed, a certain amount of force to apply with the tractor to pull a fallen tree or large limb out of a fence row. With quiet observation, I can sense the almost automatic inner analysis: the kind and condition of tree, the straightness of the trunk, the diameter of the larger branches, the slope of the hill offering gravity assist (or not), the strength of the log chain attachment point. Sometimes a test pull is in order; I did a few of these. One large red cedar proved to be unyielding, and then required extensive sectioning, at least a dozen cutting and pulling trips to clear it, though it rewarded me with its beautiful red wood and sensuous aroma. A 45-ft hackberry seemed almost eager to leap out and join the wood pile.

4 - Log Chain

When moving the heavy log chain, carry it by the end hooks to endure less frustration. The hooks like to snag vines, twigs, and hunks of grass if you just pull the chain on the ground.  The hook fits snugly into the hole mount on the front of the tractor (always pull in reverse gear!) and it will tighten in the hole under tension.

5 - A change of perspective

I’ve adapted my thinking about the gnarly fence rows on the farm. Some of the vines on the fences in the lane above the barn (where I walked the cattle to the back fields as a boy) are 4-6 inches in diameter. It looks like something alien or out of the dark forest in a Harry Potter movie.

The fences themselves are hard to even see in many places, and in their present condition, they wouldn’t be practical for containing livestock. It’s been many years since we had horses on the farm and several decades now since we had cattle. This century, my goal has been to keep the encroaching wilderness from overtaking the fields by removing fallen trees and clearing thickets that move too far in. It’s an endless task; I’m looking to get a used 4-5 foot wide bush hog to assist (Grandad sold his old one in the early 1990’s, when his bush-hogging days were over). It’s essentially a large lawn mower without a motor; it connects to the power-take-off (PTO) on the rear of the tractor and is driven on a shaft by engine power. Yes, you need the over-running clutch on it, to make it safer and not push the tractor forward with momentum (which in this case, would not be a friend).

Now my thinking is to maintain these lanes of wilderness as wildlife habitat. If someone someday wishes to have animals on the farm again, they’ll want to build new fences in any case, and likely would do so well inside the old fence rows in most places.

6 - Something worth saving

My sister Carol found a box in the bottom of a kitchen cabinet with a label in my grandmother’s handwriting: “String too short to use.” (Think about that for a moment.)

Too short to use but still, somehow, worth saving. In a box with a label on it. To be sure that you know what it is, and that it’s not useful. (She wasn’t really a packrat, but she WAS a frugal person.) Despite its lack of utility (or maybe, because of it?), this survived here for more than 30 years.

Circling back to the election, a central question is: will there be anything worth saving, in even four years? And, will this even end in four years? Or in my lifetime?

That’s why I’m mourning. The American ideal, the American experiment, SO CLOSE to taking a major step forward, is now truly in danger of dying and becoming beyond our reach in our lifetimes. It may take decades to build back, even to just where we are now. And from the environment’s point of view, that is far too late.

Overly dramatic? Maybe. Ask Polly. (She was gracious in conversing with me this week.)

It seems to me that in order to be inspired and enthused to do the work required in the next decade, there should be something WORTH saving. Not “string too short to use.” Not just another subdivision on farmland, or a trailer park (both of which are within sight here, to the east and the west of the farm). Not a duly notarized bill of sale for a dollar.

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To friends and family on the other side, please understand: we’re not fighting against you, we’re fighting against greed, injustice, persecution, inequality, falsity. It’s really not about you. If YOU choose to align yourself with any of those qualities or how they are being manifest, then yes, you stand in opposition. Own it; be brave enough to proclaim it. But, I can assure you, you won’t be spouting that crap around me.

As John Lennon imagined, I hope someday you’ll join us.

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Safety glasses are mandatory. You don’t want to get splinters, or logs, in your eyes.  If you do, pull them out, with smooth and directed force. If there’s resistance, work on them a small section at a time. Put them on the pile; create habitat for wild things.

- in flight, TYS-DEN, November 13, 2024