The Canonical Nomad

Join or Die

John Adams via Paul Giamatti has enhanced my life. Well, at least he’s emboldened my spirit and my often forward, brash vocalization of current events. I guess I should first credit author and historian David McCullough for being the catalyst in all of this. Without his writing, there would have been no series on HBO.

I don’t have HBO but purchased the DVD series of John Adams for my husband for Father’s Day this year and have watched it carefully, with intent to capture a lot more than a glimpse at the 1700s. Admittedly, I’m a bit of a history enthusiast but I am thinking that it should be a required viewing (or reading) for all Americans, all students in the very least. Now some 200 years removed, we are sadly disconnected from what it took to make this country from scratch. We can scarcely imagine a war in our own backyards, being under threat of emanate death for treason. Our handle on historically facts are a bit lacking as well as we often know not the costs involved in making the structure of freedoms that we enjoy. Like spoiled little rich kids who have not really paid attention to their cushy allowances, we complain about very silly things- in comparison.

Let me say that I believe nothing in life is coincidence. I have been one of five working into the wee hours over the past several months to see this little Buy Local campaign be launched, with great anticipation for what it will do in Jackson (with great interest for our country’s move in this direction). It is, as Brad Flory mentioned today, much more than about receipts. As I am watching John Adams and the debating that surrounded his time, it reminds me that this movement began as and remains a very political course to me.

The fight that small businesses and individuals have in a nation that has allowed Big Corporations to take billions in tax incentives and be given land in our communities [on the false pretense that they create more wealth for area] is preposterous. While there are many layers to this issue, the retail end of this is very telling. Stacy Mitchell (Big Box Swindle) points out that “Every year, cities across the country provide hundreds of millions of dollars in development subsidies to retailers like Wal-Mart and Target to help them build new stores.” Nomad would be laughed at for asking for or expecting such things. Where is the free market?

Someone whispered capitalism this week in an attempt to explain our current business/retail landscapes. This isn’t capitalism. Government favor and monopoly creation (Walmart's revenue alone constitutes close to 2.5% of the GNP) is inherently opposed to anything our fore fathers wished for this country. We are no longer operating in a free market. We can’t truly believe that big boxes who move to town with huge breaks from our city, county or state governments are coming to compete with existing businesses. They come, specifically and pointedly, where they can leverage profit for shareholders and quite systematically squash any competition. Free or low cost  land and 5-10 year tax deals only begin their destructive path of denigrating the society and economy where they choose. When one big box alone can openly take over 2 billion in tax breaks (and harbor much, much more) in one year…and then move in with jobs that hold employees below the poverty line in need of state assistance and free school lunches, we cannot praise this as advancement. And yet, we do.

How many people know that certain large stores create subsidiaries that pay rent to a real-estate investment trust, which is owned by another of that company’s subsidiaries? The trust hands the rent to the second subsidiary in the form of a dividend, which cannot be taxed. This way, they are using a tax loophole involving "real-estate investment trusts" to call "rent" it pays to itself a tax-deductible business expense.

Under other such loopholes, local outlets of large national chain stores pay royalties to sister companies in other states claiming the payments as business expenses then deduct them from state income taxes. Michigan is one of the states that, by structure, look the other way. Our local and state governments need to wake up and stop courting such a opportunistic type of commerce that reduces our need for skilled employees and future entrepreneurs while taxing our citizens to death.

And we’re okay with this based on paying a dollar less for underwear so that it “fits” into our household budget? We should rather ask who then pays for that loss in tax revenue that they pocket. Property owners, schools by way of cuts, downtowns, our infrastructure, YOU, ME, our kids- eventually.

We’ve been swindled by creative marketing that claims a lower price. But that price on the shelf, when it is lower, is only short term. At no time are we told the whole truth; that is that corporations are exporting our jobs, our values, our skills, our sense of pride, and the very fabric of our communities while having us foot the bill. We’re paying dearly for their low prices, it’s just not reflected on your receipt.

We have blindly become a nation that largely believes that growth for the sake of growth is good. The past two decades have proven this. We believe, when we're honest, that the next corporation to look at Jackson for an outlet further solidifies our place and culture. I say that is a distortion and that when we wish for bigger, more distant companies to locate here to make us attractive, we give up any chance of being an interesting, sustainable place. We wipe away our identity in trade for a homogenized, average one that makes us no more viable in years to come. I believe that John Adams would not have stood for it. And I believe that by buying local I stand in opposition to the outright rape and pillaging of what is fundamentally American.

*President Abraham Lincoln (1864): "As a result of the war, corporations have been enthroned and an era of corruption in high places will follow, and the money power of the country will endeavor to prolong its reign by working upon the prejudices of the people until all wealth is aggregated in a few hands and the Republic is destroyed. I feel at this moment more anxiety than ever before, even in the midst of war. God grant that my suspicions may prove groundless."

The Tale of Two Bike Runs

The following is a true story:

On a brilliant spring day not so long ago, the first character in our story, hereafter known as Bella Buywright, ventured out with her children to enjoy a bike ride along the newly completed Falling Waters Trail in Jackson County, Michigan. The outing was filled with the celebrated sounds of newly hatched birds and the visual delight of sprouting greenery among the Poplar and Ash trees. The ride, however, quickly became cumbersome as several years of winter-neglect on the tires and the true age of their bikes required more leg work than they had anticipated. The children began to complain that the bikes were too small—and they were. Sore from the expedition herself, having ridden a mountain bike that she’d had from a garage sale in 1991, Bella vowed this would be the year that she invested in new bikes for all of them.

As fate would have it, in the same small village Dudley Dolight and his children took on spring in the very same manner. And again, though delighted with the abundance of fresh air and enchanting sunshine along the trail, it was apparent that they also needed to make some new bike purchases.

Bella and Dudley are distinctive American consumers. With families to support in a middle class setting, each knows the value of a dollar in 2008 and each is feeling the pinch of economic instability. However, the two would make very divergent decisions on where to purchase the family bikes- with two very different impacts on their ultimate wealth and well being.

Dudley made the trip into a well-known discount retailer; known as The Dall Mart. After circling the lot twice, he found a parking spot in the third row about 18 spaces from the front door. Upon entering the store, he passed an employee that smiled and commented about the weather. He knew the general vicinity of sporting goods, so he headed swiftly in that direction, anxious to see the new spring inventory of bikes. He soon found himself looking through a discount bin of Easter candy and picked up several bags to take home. Next, beyond the toiletry aisle, Dudley spotted a display of sunscreen and beach towels and thought that perhaps he ought to stock up for the Memorial Day camping trip (especially given these prices). By this time, he was scanning the aisles for an abandoned cart. Near the potting soil and pet food, he emptied his arms of his load. He also picked up some fertilizer, a pack of dog bones for Spot and then pushed on to find the bikes. 15 minutes into his excursion, he spotted a row of sizes perfect for his kids and one about right for him. But he couldn’t get all of the desired bikes down from their display and began to look about for a store employee to assist. It was three rows down in the music and video section that Dudley asked for help. An additional 4 minutes would pass before someone in the sporting goods department came to see him.

Bella, on a day trip into town with her children in tow, decided to give a local bike shop a look (and we will call them Paddle and Tire). Once inside the front door, after much instruction to her children to behave, she was met with a smile from the owner of the store who also served on the PTA with her husband. Bella made her reason for the trip known as they glanced over the shiny bikes just beyond them. The kids took to the store’s resident pets- two friendly, adorable dogs- allowing Bella time to inquire and look about.

After his wait, Dudley checked each of the bikes over, squeezing tires and checking the price tags but was not able to test-ride them inside the store. The employee talked about the sale they had going on and that the bikes would come in boxes, unless he wanted the store to handle the assembly (for a small fee). When asked if the bikes were the right size for his 10 and 5 year old, the salesman bent down to look at the brochure attached to the floor model and said, “It says here 75-115 pounds.” That sounded about right so Dudley picked his bikes, opted for in-store assembly and spent 45 minutes browsing and eating at Hamburger Palace under the Dall Mart roof. An hour later, he checked out. We will not elaborate on the mix-up at the counter on where the assembled bikes had gone or on how long it took to get all of them into the bed of his pickup after an interesting journey in the parking lot. But alas, the bikes were headed home.

The owner of Paddle and Tire brought a polite young man and introduced him to Bella. This young man asked several pointed questions about bike riding habits of the family and planned usage for the bikes. Based on her answers, Bella’s children were given several options to try out. They rode, delighted in circles on the stores vast, historical wooden floors with the dogs watching. Next it was Bella’s turn and she rode four different models, selected and adjusted for her exact inseam and arm reach, around the city block outside to test them while the kids stayed safe and entertained inside the store. She made her selections. The bikes were checked over while she and the children visited a local bookstore around the block to spend 20 minutes delighting in their atmosphere and smoothies. Upon their return to the bike shop, the new purchases were brought directly to her SUV and helped in by the nice young man who had asked all the questions. With a thanks and a handshake, the family was on their way.

Now, we will not include details about receipts as it is enough to say that Bella spent more in monetary expenditures on her bikes (though given a courtesy discount by the store owner) and Dudley’s receipt reflected additional purchases that were not intended. Though in a downtown setting, Bella parked right outside the front door of the store, saving the parking lot hassle. She was helped instantly and checked out immediately, cutting 28 minutes off of her in-store transit time. The bikes were already assembled and subsequently adjusted to her family’s exact measurements, saving time and hassle at home with a wrench.  Bella’s bikes were backed by a lifetime warranty that came with the bikes and when after a year one of the boy’s pedals will come loose from wear and tear, the bike shop will only take 10 minutes to fix it in their building- no charge. As for Dudley’s bike, when the seat became loose after a couple of weeks and its stitching frayed, he inquired at Dall Mart about what could be done. He was helped by a new sales associate in the sporting goods department that needed a manager to let Dudley know that The Swifty Petal model that he had purchased had been recalled and he would need to bring the bike back for a replacement. He was warned, however, that the replacement may take up to six weeks to receive. He never went back.

Bella and Dudley’s families pass one another from time to time on the trail and wave-- when Dudley isn’t on the side, adjusting his seat.

*It is also keen to note that the money spent at Paddle and Tire on bikes helped to fund the several community and family events planned for the summer, as it has for years. That store also purchases their signage, print materials, insurance, design work, accounting, and other services through Jackson County sources and business people. As mentioned, the owner of Paddle and Tire sits on the local PTA and is invested personally in school events, fundraising, and votes for local decisions on other boards that he serves. He has restored a historical building (with local contractors) that is a source of pride in downtown landscape. Dall Mart has not and is not able to do any of the above for the community.

*Based on actual events. Names have been changed to protect those involved.  

A Piece of Pie for Mom

A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie. ~Anonymous

I got a message from my mom today. I get a message from her every couple of days. Most of the time, I don't call back. Not right away, anyway. Not out of disregard but out of the feeling that she understands more than anyone on this planet why I couldn't call back just then. There have been many seasons, indeed entire years, when I did not understand nor admonish mom. In those seasons, I made decisions that would carry me far from her and far from myself. Indeed, we are family and in every family there are humans- that is to say imperfection. Hurt. Regret. Dysfunction. But in those pains, a chance for understanding the total inventory of one's life. Indeed, I have been blessed with more chances for understanding my own inventory than I have had the fortitude for-- Yet, anyway.

I may have mentioned that I was raised by a single mom. She didn't really care for pie either, at least most of the time. It has not been until recent events in my own life that I have come to glimpse the amount of times that she actually made pie to serve to 4 oblivious kids while she sat with a watering mouth. She was far from perfect but for all of her faults, I can say this: I always knew that I had a lion in my corner that sat ready to pounce on anything that threatened my life. My potential. My happiness. A best friend, a spouse nor child can never replicate that level of instinctual love--never.

I've been reading The Rest of Her Life this month. What it has done is put me back in perspective of the continuum of mother-daughter-mother of a daughter...the reality of those overlapping, complicated relationships. I was in a car accident when I was in my teens that resulted in tragedy [which is also, coincidentally, the outline for this book]. I've been reflecting, retrospectively, on what my mother must have gone through during that time. For anyone that rallies claims that fiction is pure fantasy or lacks opportunity for application in our lives...well, they don't read fiction. This book has taken me to a place that I had neither expected nor found anywhere else in recent years. I respect my mom more tonight for having read fiction. I want to live more fully with my daughter tonight for having read fiction. I'll never really know what it meant for my mom to watch the pain that I both caused and was going through, while I spent the energy I had pushing her away. I've looked at my daughter this week and thought about the years I hope to be blessed with ahead. As she sleeps tonight, I imagine all the times that my mom wanted nothing more than to shelter me from pain-- and the ache for the times that she could not. And still can not.

This week, mom, I want you to know that you are the one person on this planet that I know has always been and will always be on my side [when I do call back]. Even when you weren't. Even when I didn't want you to be. Even when I don't think you are. I've taken you for granted but I know you understand--even when you don't. If I could, I bake a whole pie and deliver it to you on Sunday. I-- at the very least-- owe you that. 

White Pine Houses

My evening brought a foray into the world of my favorite blogs, having just finished three books in quick succession...I had to catch up on my "sick preoccupation" (see earlier blog). I started at one I love to revisit and glean from occasionally. It linked me to another point on another page. And then another. And another. I was seven observations deep before I came up for air. The news has done an interesting thing these days- for those watching and listening. Such massive, intriguing entanglements; such discourse coming from some...the thing that is amazing is that wisdom and truth are questioned at every turn. Wisdom seems to jump out from one perspective and then has the potential to be completely countered and stifled just as quickly as it came. Kinda makes me ambivalent. The tendency to nourish uneasiness is too tempting for us. The option seems to be to pour gasoline upon the raging bonfire of current events. The inclination to be trite and pithy or clever and evasive seems to be all that we have in the face of often menacing reports. Gas prices, election, Borders, war, religion, spirituality, economy. I have to keep reminding myself that I have permission not to live in fear.

Sometimes I want to sleep in...Sometimes I wish I had my nose in the clouds or fingernails in the soil, oblivious to the currents at the base of this river we're in. Yeah, I guess I make that choice everyday by limited the news that streams in. I catch myself wondering when it all got so complicated that I'd rather turn off the light and go to sleep than read more or talk about it. Is it my age that is making me resentful of the complication all around? My station in life? Stress levels? I could swear that I was just sweeping and designing White Pine rooms in the forest floor behind my elementary school like last week. Good was good. Bad was bad. You were in. You were out. Laughter came quick. Tears just as easy. Pain was surprising. Joy was common. When you disagreed you might hit your best friend and then hug them later that day, tingling with satisfaction in knowing and being known by them. And the whole world held promise, even when it was dark. Especially when it was dark.

We don't have to fear. I'll see you at recess.

New Borders?

Before I ever thought about working at a bookstore in Jackson, our book-selling neighbors in Ann Arbor have loaned us inspiration, great titles and wonderment for years. Inevitably, I get "shelf envy" when I get a chance to wander over there.

Karl Pohrt from The Shaman Drum is writing these days on his new blog ("There is no gap")...grab the RSS feed and stay tuned. His most recent post details a visit to the new Borders concept store from the eyes of a successful independent store owner. He gives me hope and admittedly, a sly grin.

What do you mean by "LOCAL"?

So, we've had unbelievable amount of hits on the last blog in two days and I'm getting a lot of great questions in my in-box. Here is a recent email that I wrote in response that sums SOME of buying local up:

"Thanks for taking the time to reply and for your further investing in the discussion about what is meant by "Buy Local". There is a lot of buzz in Jackson right now- to be sure. It is an exciting time for small business as we are ushering in a resurgence of focusing money and effort in the communities we actually live in. I know that you and I have spoken briefly before about franchising and small business and I have several dear friends who own franchises in town so there are many considerations for all of us in this [or any] economy.

I am not the decision maker for local business in Jackson so my opinions are simply that but I have been privileged to attend and participate in many conferences, discussions with heads of successful Buy Locals from all over the nation, as well as attend many independent industry and Michigan business functions in recent years. At all of these, lead economic minds have presented on Buy Local issues with increasing fervor and all the while I've been reading (imagine that!) and researching "buying local" on my own. Shoot, we have a wall of books dedicated to the topic, all written in the past 5-10 years.

While each community is different in their approach, the leading Buy Local organizations have very clear guidelines by which they suggest membership be considered- with very good reasoning behind each guideline. Please visit a couple websites for more on this:

http://www.amiba.net

http://www.livingeconomies.org/

One of the basic premises of any Buy Local campaign is to give strength and education to businesses who do not have the marketing, networking, buying, or training resources that chains and franchises do. It is also for indies who find that other established organizations (The Chamber, DDAs, City Council, zoning committees, etc.) are not addressing the needs specific to the uniqueness of creating and running an independent business in what has been a very unfriendly climate for us in recent decades.   

When we opened Nomad in 2005, my husband and I opened with no assistance from anyone else (except the sweat and love of friends). There was no model, no training, no logo, no previous branding or representation for what we were creating specifically for Jackson to call their own. There was no corporate structure for us to tap into at all nor was there a buying structure or vendors lined up for us to work with. Our efforts have been completely independent of any overseeing company or advisers. We have faced a very different and difficult set of challenges than franchises or chains do. However, in our struggles, we proudly lay claim to a freedom from corporate stipulations on our operations (ex: Beaners is now Bigbby) and from sending our money outside of Jackson to any other entity- something that one of my franchise-owing friend loathes.

The biggest issue I see is that we eventually get to the question: What about Wendy's? What if McDonald's or Subway or Schlotzsky's Deli or Jimmy John's or Domino's wants to be included in the Buy Local? What if Gap or The Limited or Starbucks put a storefront in downtown, aren't they then considered local? You see, it then defeats the purpose of organizing any structure for the businesses without the corporate model, branding, marketing, name recognition and so on. It is indeed a difficult line to draw but necessary at the start. The Chamber and DDA are organizations that oversee ALL business, not just the locally grown ones. Buy Local generally encourages people to commit a percentage of their spending to the little guy who struggles each month to find a way to create their business unique to the town they are in. This isn't just retail. It's services, contractors, local farmers, not for profits, education, art/culture, etc. "Buy Local" ensures that our town doesn't look like the next town over or the next town down the 94 or 127 corridor but stands out as a unique place to be and come to...None of the talk of buy local should be discouraging to you- it is an effort to further make Jackson unique, stronger, exciting and appealing to its citizens and visitors."

Confessions of the Reformed

Five years ago, I was a stay at home mom with three small kids. I shopped for groceries one day a week at a major retailer and planned meals a week in advance- based on their sales. I bought in bulk. I was a brand-name coupon clipper, an ad browser, a sale hound purchasing my kids clothing from big label clearance racks with a coupon in my hand. If they wouldn't give me the two discounts together, I probably wasn't going to buy it. I believed that if I paid full price for everyday products or household goods, I was getting ripped off. And books. Well, I love bookstores but couldn't imagine why they weren't matching Amazon's prices- I was certain someone was getting rich. Once the free shipping started, Amazon was my go-to unless I was already in an indie book store and they had a frequent buyer program I could sign up for.

I was raised by a single mom and I watched her pull off miracles to make sure we never went without. That thrifty shopper and shrewd consumer was born early in my childhood and I'll be the first to say that is hard to pay full price still...but I realized that I was complaining about "nothing in Jackson" and simultaneously guilty of not supporting anything but national companies that offered no uniqueness here. This began my slow reformation.

While my husband was appreciative of my resourcefulness, he would often say with a smile, "Well, you usually get what you pay for...". I was incensed that he would pay full retail for his work boots at Genco's or Miller's in downtown when he would spend his days walking in wet, muddy conditions completely trashing them. Week after week those boots would stand up and work harder than three cheaper or "on sale" pairs from "big" stores and I came to see that he was saving us time and money.

A couple other events happened in the past five years that made me sit up and realize that where I spend my money really matters. 1) A group of great friends began to move out of town for more "cultured" areas in the country. One had the audacity to name his band "Kicking Jackson" after his exit (and still plays under that name). I was a bit offended that someone's opinion of Jackson was that low. 2) I met a local farmer who changed my view on where food is grown and what being sustainable really means. 3) Nomad opened in downtown and gave me an understanding of what a tax base is from the other side of the counter- Not to mention a new understanding of "low prices".

Below you will find just a couple of considerations...More in-depth resources will be listed below for you, if you're a skeptic like me. BTW, my husband still buys his boots downtown and continues to get what he pays for. I'm a believer.

Top Ten reasons to Think & Buy Local First-

1. Buy Local -- Support yourself: Several studies have shown that when you buy from an independent, locally owned business, rather than a nationally owned businesses, significantly more of your money is used to make purchases from other local businesses, service providers and farms -- continuing to strengthen the economic base of the community.(Click here to see summaries of a variety of economic impact studies; these include case studies showing that locally-owned businesses generate a premium in enhanced economic impact to the community and our tax base.)
2. Support community groups: Non-profit organizations receive an average 250% more support from smaller business owners than they do from large businesses.
3. Keep our community unique. Where we shop, where we eat and have fun -- all of it makes our community home. Our one-of-a-kind businesses are an integral part of the distinctive character of this place. Our tourism businesses also benefit.  “When people go on vacation they generally seek out destinations that offer them the sense of being someplace, not just anyplace.” ~ Richard Moe, President, National Historic Preservation Trust
4. Reduce environmental impact: Locally owned businesses can make more local purchases requiring less transportation and generally set up shop in town or city centers as opposed to developing on the fringe. This generally means contributing less to sprawl, congestion, habitat loss and pollution.
5. Create more good jobs: Small local businesses are the largest employer nationally and in our community, provide the most jobs to residents.
6. Get better service: Local businesses often hire people with a better understanding of the products they are selling and take more time to get to know customers. 
7. Invest in community: Local businesses are owned by people who live in this community, are less likely to leave, and are more invested in the community’s future.
8. Put your taxes to good use: Local businesses in town centers require comparatively little infrastructure investment and make more efficient use of public services as compared to nationally owned stores entering the community.
9. Buy what you want, not what someone wants you to buy: A marketplace of tens of thousands of small businesses is the best way to ensure innovation and low prices over the long-term.  A multitude of small businesses, each selecting products based not on a national sales plan but on their own interests and the needs of their local customers, guarantees a much broader range of product choices.
10. Encourage local prosperity: A growing body of economic research shows that in an increasingly homogenized world, entrepreneurs and skilled workers are more likely to invest and settle in communities that preserve their one-of-a-kind businesses and distinctive character.

Resources:

http://www.civiceconomics.com/SF/

http://www.andersonvillestudy.com/

http://www.newrules.org/retail/midcoaststudy.pdf

http://www.bookweb.org/files/open/pdf/lamar.pdf

http://www.livingeconomies.org

http://www.amiba.net

http://www.newrules.org/retail/bigboxstudies.pdf

The Story

I drove home in the dark tonight listening to The Story on NPR. My headlights lit the guard-rails of snow on either side of the road and I settled in for the 25 minute drive as The Story started. I felt, as I always do after deep snows, comforted by the thick blanket of winter. The new landscape all around came as a welcomed break from what can be a monotonous drive these days. I felt pleasantly bundled in hat and gloves gripping the steering wheel with the voices on the radio as companions. The Story began with reflection from a woman that experienced something that I did as well, many years ago and I assumed that I would have good company the entire way home if I could go there again with her for a brief while.

Most of the time I think we are ambivalent about other people's stories. After all, we all have one. If there is one thing that I have grown used to lately it is hearing other people's stories. The counter at Nomad sometimes serves as a quazi-therapy couch where we are all rather relaxed and open; me, the staff and our patrons. And most of the time, we barely nick the surface of what really lies behind the life of the other. What we share in our brief passing is subcutis to the network of life behind our persona. I've come to realize that we're blessed if we really know another human being in this life...If we really listen to them. It takes grace and patience, that of which I'm in short supply. But Listening is an Act of Love...

So I thought about it. As I sometimes do. Okay, my brain never stops so of course I thought more about it. When we listen, like I listened to The Story tonight, living goes to a place where we have no choice but to grow. Another's story becomes a small part of ours because if we learned anything in kindergarten, it's that life isn't just about us. And if we read stories, likewise, life is richer...complex and worth every effort to find resonance or purpose in another's experience. I encourage you to pick up a copy of Listening is an Act of Love, a new compilation by the Storycorps Project. Their whole purpose for 4 years has been to capture everyday people sharing their story in 40 minute recorded sessions. The book comes after 10,000 interviews; each unique and candid, honest to the point of being beautiful pieces of prose. You have to hear these.

I also caught wind recently of a bookstore in Alaska who has hosted evenings that invite people to come in and tell their "scar story". Right there, bare the physical scar that you have and tell the story behind it. It all began after one staffer was telling another about her scar. The listening staffer then revealed her own and they compared their wounds. It was blogged about and it took off. 18 more stories followed on their blog and a then full blown series of "scar story" evenings followed. All because of people's stories. I think Nomad needs a Scar Story night...what we would learn is that our collective story [yes, in Jackson] is worth stopping everything to listen to.

The Only Thing I Kindle is My Fireplace

"...defend your lonely forts...For some of us, books are intrinsic to our human identity."

-John Updike

Call me stodgy or stuck. Call me old fashioned but I like my books. I blogged about the e-reader a year ago after I was asked to be on a digital task force comprised of a dozen or more independent booksellers across the U.S.. We spent a weekend in a NY hotel hashing out some of the questions and implications of the technology. The e-reader isn't news by any stretch. But I wasn't nearly as knowledgeable about it year ago...or as opinionated. To see the obscured face of Mr. Bezos behind a technology that means to send books as we know them toward an eventual used-only status...I am opinionated.

This is what I think: Uncensored. I think that we live in an instant gratification, screen-absorbed society that is losing book readers not because of the book's current format but because our attention span has been forced to evolve. We have a sick pre-occupation with a habitual return to the impulse of being plugged in. The e-book seems, among other things, one more application that would keep our heads in a screen on the cheap premise that accessibility trumps the path of traditional acquisition [and simple living, for that matter].

Bookstores have not survived because they peddle books. I've often said that we do not sell books, rather we sell an experience that exists because of those bound papers and words. Bookstores survive because they are a hold-out for our freedom of speech. They are physical housing units for seekers and thinkers, artists, families, children and the individual finding a place in their community. Conversations abound, laughs are easy, and people actually meet another's eye contact in a world seem destined to relegate itself to vast solitary individualism...Bookstores are inherently different than coffeehouses, libraries, restaurants, or other social gathering places because of the vibrations from the shelves. You can lose yourself for hours in a bookstore, travel the world in the distance of five feet and speak to people who have read what you've only just begun. Then you can take a piece of that home with you [to own] by way of bound matter. And while the Kindle claims to be able to do all of this more effectively, I vehemently disagree that any electronic gadget will increase interpersonal relationship or community [which is a claim being made in the Newsweek article]. To suggest otherwise seems boldly naive and hopelessly blind to our current social and individual state. 

The National Science Foundation (NSF) reported in its General Social Survey (2006) that unprecedented numbers of Americans are lonely. Isolated. Hostile. Suspicious of one another.

When asked what one idea he would pass on at the dawn of the 21st century, John Nesbitt [futurist and author] wonderfully penned this:

"We live in a technologically intoxicated zone. We are softened by the comforts that technology brings, fascinated by its gadgetry, and addicted to its delivery of entertainment. Then, turning our backs to its consequences, we wonder why the future seems so unpredictable and bleak....We should love progress. But that love need not be unconditional. Loving progress means cherishing technology's virtues -- as well as admitting mistakes, facing up to problems, being well informed, and welcoming alternative opinions. If we truly love technology, we won't be reckless with it."

I continue to be saddened and irritated by the on-going need to explain to my children why they are "the only kids in school" without an XBox or PlayStation or Nintendo DS. And bless them, they are thriving without them. I'm another one of those parents...that traditional believer in use of imagination apart from photoshop and flashing lights, constant sound and repetitive nonsense that often amounts to a ridiculous onslaught of absurdity and shallowness. And I'll take the bullets I know I have coming for that stance. I hope never to have to explain why we are still reading paper books...I think I've done my job and many of their permanent memories have already been forged in the tangible world of reading a book upon a lap, turning the page, smelling ink and dog-eared edges. I'd like to believe that their children will know the same closeness, the same "feel-good" attachment to a centuries old invention. Shame on all of us if we do not question what "progress" may eliminate from our human experience.

Though there are volumes to speak about this, I'm ending this post now. With eyes strained, neck and shoulders not relaxed, I have one of those dull headaches that emerge after looking at a white screen for too long. Perhaps I'll find relief by kindling my fireplace, brewing a cup of tea and settling in to read one of my books- in a format that I am still enamored with.

28

Age 28.

Sometimes reflection can only bring one thought: Life is bizarre. The nature of coincidence that surrounds life on this planet has ominously woven the number 28 into my experience. Death and the age of 28 seem somehow coupled. While fatalism is not my cup of tea, I've definitely been forced to take notice.

It really began in October three years ago when my incredible brother-in-law, a pro golfer, was killed suddenly at 28. A year a half later, my amazing 6' 4" cousin was killed in a car accident outside of Scottsdale a couple weeks before turning 28. And Saturday, my mom called the store to tell me that marathoner Ryan Shay had fallen in Central Park during the Olympic Trials and died. He was 28. It might not seem that the latter fits into my experience except that I grew up around Ryan. He graduated with my brother. He was my cousin's first serious boyfriend [and for a time, his sister dated my cousin who died in Scottsdale].

Like I said, kinda weird.

In tribute, I remember traveling the couple of miles from my mom's house in Central Lake to where my cousins lived, routinely passing Ryan Shay on the snow dusted [or sun beaten] road. January in Northern Michigan: not just winter but Winter. We could see our breath in the car, condensation clinging to the base of our windows. Snowbanks encased the country road ahead but Ryan's silhouette was in the distance. Up and down Old State Road or downtown.

I've caught up on his last decade via Google, having not seen Ryan since his graduation in 1997. I was somehow consoled to find out that he was an avid reader, as if reading ensured a more well lived life. I found the following and sat before my computer screen completely paused by the words in Michigan Runner:

...And the Jean-Paul Sartre influence on the young marathoner? It turns out Shay's favorite book - he's an avid reader of philosophy and biographies - is Sartre's Nausea. The influence of a dead, French, chain-smoking intellectual on one of America's top marathoning prospects isn't that odd once you hear Shay explain it.

"I'm an existentialist," he says matter of factly. "I like that outlook on life. [Nausea's] about a guy who really doesn't know what he wants out of life, and that's what the nausea is in his day-to-day life. He's so confused as to his purpose in life that every day-to-day action, socializing with people on a daily basis, he just doesn't know what it's for and it makes him sick. He finally finds out what his purpose in life is and the sickness goes away. It's about someone finding what they want to do and doing it - and it makes your life that much better."

Without trying to wax poetic about reason (because I don't believe there is any in the face of a close sudden death), it would seem that relentless kid on the snow covered road found what he wanted to do there and made life that much better while doing it.

My thoughts are in northern Michigan this week. The place I will always call home. The place where people are hurting deeply right now, along those roads. My God, I am so sorry. My thoughts have turned to my brother in law and my cousin again. To that sharp, empty pain of the world stopping upon hearing the news. The sinking memory of going from the availability of them to complete physical separation in an instant. From future plans and potential to smiles through tears about all that was. 28, you three lived it well. We should all be so driven, so wonderful. And we'll see you soon- whether it's on the course or along the open road, in the sunrise tomorrow or beyond our rainy window next week...in the face of family here or when we're standing face to face again in complete understanding of it all.