Pushing Organic

I’m wading through a great book right now and it’s got me doing a lot of thinking. Jeff actually gave me this book a year ago for Mother’s Day but I tried to read it then and couldn’t deal with the guilt and deep thinking it was requiring so I shelved it. Alas, it beckoned a month or two ago and I pulled it back out and committed to reading it. Normally, I fly through books I love and can’t put them down until I finish – much to the frustration of my husband and kids. This book, though, I’m taking slowly. It’s beautiful and it’s tough and it’s making me question how I live and how I eat. And that’s a lot to contemplate.

The book is by Barbara Kingsolver – one of my favorite authors – and it is called Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. It is the true story of how she and her family moved from Arizona to Virginia – to a farm her husband had owned for thirty years so that they could live off their land for a year, keeping everything as organic and local as possible.

Now, for those who know me or my childhood, this may have some resemblance to my upbringing. When I was three and my brother was just born, we moved to Northern Michigan from the Detroit area so that we could have clean air, water, and a healthy living and learning environment in which to grow.

We had a huge garden, we had animals (though we did not eat them – well, one rooster but that’s another story), and everything was fairly local when you lived in Manton, Michigan. The year was 1973 and the counter-culture movement, one that my father embraced, was well underway. We frequented health food stores, ate organically, did not drink sodas or eat sugar cereals, and even had a compost-able toilet at one point (again, a whole other story).

Forgive my jaunt back in history but I think it’s helping me glean why the book is hard. People used to say when my dad pulled up for an unannounced visit that sometimes “It was hard to see your conscience pull up in the driveway.” This book feels a little like my conscience and a lot like my upbringing with my father. Both feel true in that I believe in the virtues each espouse.

My dad was pushing organic before it was trendy or mainstream and you couldn’t get a more “local” upbringing than the farm he moved us to in Northern Michigan. My brother and I would cut the rhubarb from our garden by the basketful and sell it to the local grocery store in town. You literally could know where a lot of your food came from – I remember our friends and neighbors the Roots slaughtering pigs and sharing their bounty with us. Pigs who had had a good life and were fed well. And, who died as humanely as possible to feed people who appreciated the food they provided.

That’s what’s hard now. And what this book is making me think about. Why don’t I eat and feed my kids a more local, organic diet? I feel in my heart it’s better. It was how I was raised. It is more humane for the animals who actually had a life – were fed with their and others’ health in mind – who were respected and appreciated for the life they gave. Unlike what you hear about how cows, pigs, and chickens are mass-produced without thought to these animals’ lives or spirits. It’s not so good.

So, I choose organic when it is convenient, on sale, or when I am feeling especially open and centered. I know it’s right. I know it’s better. And, the benefits are worth the costs in the long run. But there’s another big hurdle: my husband doesn’t support the choice for an all-organic diet. And he loves to cook and often likes to pick out what he is planning to prepare.

That puts me in a tough spot. I love that he has a passion for cooking. And, he is truly amazing in the kitchen. He believes in eating healthy – fruits and vegetables and a well-balanced diet. He’s just not sold on organics. And, he’s thrifty. So, when he knows I’m making a trip to Whole Foods, he gets a little nervous. It’s good. It’s organic. And, it’s pricey.

So where do you draw the line? How do you navigate your values, your and your family’s health and your relationship with your husband every time you go to the grocery store? It’s not easy. Actually, it’s damn hard. So, I’ll keep plugging away at this book completely cognizant that it is causing me to have issues. I’ll continue to wrestle with that.

My dad always said, “Moderation in all things.” And, perhaps, therein lies my answer. Moderation in all things. The book, page by page. My life, day by day. Our food, meal by meal. Knowing sometimes we’ll do better, sometimes we’ll do worse, but most of the time we’ll commit to making the best choices we know to make. For the animals, vegetables, the environment, and most importantly, for our own humanity.