How often do we really stop to think about our common infrastructure, and how greatly we depend upon it each day to do our jobs and take care of our families? Public infrastructure includes many different elements, including roads and highways, bridges, waste and sewer systems and water treatment and distribution systems, transportation systems... These are public works that we make use of every day.

And in the US, they need work. Physically, many structures are decaying. Systemically, the works haven't yet caught up to what we need in order to protect the environment in the present and long-term. Think for a minute. Under President Eisenhower, massive work was done to create interstate highways that crossed the country - this coincided time-wise with the explosion of the automobile industry. These efforts led to massive changes in our cities and our daily lives - the birth of the suburbs and shopping centers and malls, the deaths of inner cities and mom-and-pop businesses. We are now recognizing how the reliance on roads and cars has affected us in unexpected and not-so-good ways... but that's another story for another day.

In the 21st century, we are called on to re-examine our structures and systems in terms of safety, environmental, social, and economic needs. We have the ability to collaboratively imagine how we might meet our communal needs in better ways, taking into account what we now know about pollution, the effects of degraded environments on economic, physical, and mental health, the importance of community connections and relationships for our well-being, and so on. It is a different paradigm that we must use, as we imagine and create together.

In Pittsburgh, we have wonderful opportunities to think about these issues - and to act. We need our bridges to function as an integrated city - they need work. Our sewer and water systems are ready for an overhaul. We have willing and able citizens who need jobs. We have the knowledge, skill, and experience base within our citizenry to make these changes in ways that will protect the environment and our health and well-being. Let's talk.

First, from the Pittsburgh Interfaith Impact Network comes an opportunity for people to be visible in showing both the need for jobs for citizens who really want to work AND the need for the nation to strengthen its physical infrastructure. According to PIIN, the Greenfield Bridge is structurally deficient and falling apart. Millions of unemployed people could be put to work fixing crumbling roads, bridges, and other infrastructure like this, across the country - let's urge our leaders to think about how this could be a WIN-WIN situation. Actually, let's become leaders - become part of a Participatory Democracy, as opposed to or even side by side with a Representative Democracy, speaking out directly about concerns and creating and communicating about possible solutions. 

If you want to be present at an event that will involve a conversation that addresses both the jobs issue and the infrastructure needs in a positive direction, consider coming to the Day of Action on the Greenfield Bridge. Details are below:

When: Thursday, November 17 · 5:30pm - 8:30pm
Where: Gather at Magee Park, followed by a march to the Greenfield Bridge, 745 Greenfield Ave,
Pittsburgh, PA

AND.... EDUCATE YOURSELF ABOUT ANOTHER ASPECT OF THE INFRASTRUCTURE - OUR AGING SEWERS...  Alcosan is currently proposing one of the most comprehensive overhauls of our sewer system that we have ever seen - it will take years to complete. The work has not yet been started, so this is the time to speak up about using what we now know about green technology to do this project right. Alcosan is holding a series of town meetings to solicit input from community members about their plans - info is available on their web-site. Tonight, there will be a town meeting on the Southside. Details: 

Wednesday, November 9th, 5:30pm - 7:30pm
I.B.E.W. #5 Circuit Center & Ballroom (Region-wide)
5 Hot Metal Street | Pittsburgh, PA 15203 

How fortunate we are to be able to speak up and show up in public to address situations that concern all of us. I hope to see you at one of these events!

Last night I was privileged to attend the fall gathering of the Pittsburgh Interfaith Impact Network. The meeting was held at Rodef Shalom - which was packed with over 1000 people who represented many races and ethnic backgrounds, as well as many religions and faith traditions. PIIN is a vibrant group in Pittsburgh modeled on the Gamaliel Foundation which has as its mission "teaching ordinary citizens to unleash the power within themselves to collectively impact the social, political, environmental, and economic decisions affecting their lives." How cool is that?

What a powerful gathering! The first area of focus in the meeting was gun violence -  remember Rev. Glenn Grayson and Marsha Grayson who lost their son G to random gun violence a year ago? Rev. Glenn spoke - actually raised the roof with his pain and passion about getting rid of the guns that are floating around the city and are being used to kill primarily young black men. Others spoke with wisdom and fervor about civil rights of immigrants, documented and undocumented, the need for better public transportation, the very significant racial gap in education - there is about a two grade-level gap in national reading and math assessment test scores between black students and white students - unacceptable, and employment issues. Many citizens spoke of trying to find work at a living, family supporting wage - wanting desperately to do work that would enable them to buy food and clothing, and pay for housing for their families. Other spoke of having to wait an hour to catch a bus to take their child to daycare so that they could then go to work, only to have the bus pass them by because it was full.

These pleas were particularly meaningful during this time of increasing recognition of the enormous gap between rich and poor. For example, Fred Smith, founder of Fed Ex, has had an average annual salary of $9.79 million over the last six years, according to Forbes Magazine. His employees average between $15-22 per hour. Thus, Occupy X.

I didn't realize it at first, but the timing of this meeting was critical - the week before the November elections. Many candidates and office-holders were invited to the meeting, and several, but not all came. Highlights included Police Chief Nate Harper's commitment to step up the efforts to track and control guns in the city (hopefully with the Mayor's support - he was not present); School Superintendent Linda Lane's commitment to distribute the budget more equitably between all neighborhood schools, regardless of neighborhood income or racial make-up; and State Rep. Dan Frankel's (D - Squirrel Hill) commitment to advocate with Governor Corbett - who was not present - for more funding for public transportation in the city.

We can vote in many ways - during elections next week, with our dollars in terms of spending locally instead of in support of huge corporations, and with our feet and bodies - stay tuned for information about a rally on November 17th at the Greenfield Bridge - where we will speak up about the need for jobs to support our families and to support the nation, particularly in light of our country's need for strengthening of our crumbling infrastructure.

In the meantime, down the road at F.U.S.E....

Jordan Howard will be hosting a release party for his forthcoming debut mixtape, "the DREAM". The event will take place at the F.U.S.E. Center in East Liberty. Admission is a $5 donation at the door. This $5 donation will allow you to gain access to all of the evening's festivities, and you will receive a CD copy of "the DREAM". Jordan will also be performing 3 tracks from the mixtape that evening. The MC for the evening will be Pittsburgh's own DJ Sally Grace. Hope to see everyone there!

There is a prayer practice called "lectio divina" - slow, contemplative reading of sacred works or poems in which one listens carefully to one's heart, to the still small voice of a greater wisdom that might be speaking through the words. A few years ago, in a centering prayer group, the leader read the story of Jesus and Bartimaeus, the blind beggar. She read the story, slowly and softly. She asked us to listen closely, to sense where we might have been in this scene of Jesus, followed by crowds and his disciples, coming upon a blind man begging him for mercy. Where would we be?

This is what I heard, in the stillness of my heart. I would be sitting at a Starbucks across the road, watching and waiting. I would be sipping tea and reading a book, unobtrusively observing the crowds following Jesus, hanging on him, asking him for help. I would watch to see what would happen. Maybe after the crowds thinned out and things settled down, I would approach Jesus. I would ask him how he was, who he was. I would say that his life looked hard, and I wondered how that was for him.

And Bartimaeus? Yes, I would have wanted to reach out to him as well. But in the crowd? Nope. Not likely.

So that was where I was in that public scene. I most definitely was not part of the crowd of people, the public "hangers-on" in my mind, nor was I one of the disciples, committed to the mysterious journey that lay ahead. I also did not rush over, in this public arena, to help Bartimaeus myself. I watched by the side of the road. Safe, private. Curious, moved, but uncommitted. Not going to be part of the crowd.

I have been taking baby steps away from Starbucks toward the crowds, toward the beggar. I have been taking tiny steps toward being part of it all, accepting that I won't lose who I am in the crowd and that I might even learn something or have something to contribute myself. And realizing that maybe voices raised together in a crowd can mean something. So I went to Blair Mountain this summer and today I went downtown with the Occupy Pittsburgh group.

The sign above kind of sums up today. The common factor among the people who were at the Occupy Pittsburgh march was the "commons" - all eyes were on humanity, the larger good, not on the bottom line. Poverty, race, education and health care cuts, the huge costs of war, student debt, environmental destruction - today I heard voices raised for people, not dollars. Justice and equity, fairness, empathy, accountability and responsibility. And you know what? It is all connected.

There were babies in strollers, students from grade school through college, union members, older graying seasoned protesters, clergy, veterans. I got to see my Kalie and her family. Everyone was respectful, kind, generous. There was joy in the group, along with a sense of frustration that things have come to this point. There was a feeling of - "Enough. No more." I felt privileged to be part of the group, to be among the crowd.

This is what democracy looks like.

Sunday was a magical day. I'll start where I ended, going backwards through the day.

I had the distinct privilege of hearing Majora Carter speak at the AASHE (Association for the Advancement of Sustainability in Higher Education) 2011 Conference at Pittsburgh's David L. Lawrence Convention Center. This is one amazing woman, a fireball of wisdom and energy who is changing communities one by one. Majora lives in the Bronx - grew up there - and has worked with other community members to begin a transformation of the borough and of the lives of its residents. She is an eco-activist whose work and ideas are spreading across the globe. Check her out at these numerous sites to learn more about her and her work - I think she is a prophet for the day and I think you will be inspired. First, there is her award-winning TED Talk - Greening the Ghetto, where I first learned of her. Then - she hosts a public radio program, The Promised Land, in which she shares stories of visionaries and leaders. And, she has started a company, the Majora Carter Group - her vision, in her words:

“I believe that you shouldn’t have to leave your neighborhood to live in a better one... When we allow or encourage our economic practices to tax the environment, we inadvertently tax people too - that ends up costing all of us a lot of money. When we add the moral costs of denying future generations a clean and productive planet to the degraded quality of life offered our fellow citizens who are unable to escape the environmental sacrifice zones - zones created through our collective negligence - the toll becomes untenable... But when we place Democracy ahead of poorly regulated Capitalism in all of our decisions, cost savings - often overlooked by conventional thinking - cascade from many directions."

Regardless of your particular political affiliation, it would be hard to find fault with this woman's work - she engages under- and unemployed community members in productive work to better the natural and built environments in which they live, creating jobs as well as healthy and sustainable places to live - not unlike the Civilian Conservation Corps and other groups that built our nation's infrastructure decades ago. Majora Carter's existence gives me hope.

Before her talk, I browsed through the bookstore at the conference - and I watched author, professor, and environmentalist Bill McKibben talk with students and sign their books. I know that I am a little weird, but tears came to my eyes as I looked through the hundreds of books written to instruct, inspire, argue with people - to wake people up to what is going on around us, to the complicated but real connections between our economic and financial stability, our health and well-being, and the state of our environment, our natural world, across the globe. It gives me hope to see the energy that many very bright people are putting into creative and workable solutions to this state of affairs.

Backing up a little more... I spent the morning at the Allegheny Unitarian Universalist Church - had attended a couple of times before, and was feeling particularly drawn to stop in this week for some reason. On this Yom Kippur weekend of atonement and forgiveness, Holocaust survivor and American soldier Fritz Ottenheimer, German clarinetist Susanna Ortner-Roberts, and her husband, pianist Tom Roberts, presented a moving program - "Who are these Germans?" 

Fritz's tales of his childhood in Germany during the early years of Hitler's reign depicted the challenges and horrors associated with lumping all people of one race, religion, or nationality together into one big glob - in his stories, there were cruel, awful Germans and kind, brave Germans and many more who were silent bystanders. In between his stories, Susanna's clarinet sang with mournful and soulful Klezmer tunes, accompanied by Tom's piano. Then Susanna spoke of her own emigration from Germany to the US, and of the desire of her generation not to feel guilt for the past atrocities which they did not commit, but to learn from them and to work to make the world a better place. Fritz and Susanna present their program to schools, churches, temples, community groups - anywhere people are interested in learning how to tear down walls and reach out to hold hands. I felt tears once again, and hope in my breast.

Julie spent her first Yom Kippur with Greg and his family. I think Michael and Leah were with her family in NYC. I love thinking about this time of year, this holy day, and am happy and grateful that my children are in relationships where they can learn about it. There are wonderful traditions that lead up to Yom Kippur, practices exemplified in the work of Fritz, Susanna, Tom, and Majora ... among them, charity - the ethical imperative to contribute our resources to support the needy, our communal organizations, and to make the world a better place; repentance - acknowledging our shortcomings, showing regret for what we did, and resolving to not make the same mistakes again; and prayer - opening our heart, putting thoughts to words, praying in the plural to ask for the good of all, not for our own personal needs.
  
It has been rainy today - wet brown leaves cover my front walk and there is the smell of wood smoke in the air. I have been listening to old Judy Collins albums - just read her book Morning, Noon, and Night: Living the Creative Life, written several years after her own recovery from her son's suicide and her own abuse of alcohol. She tells the tale of her son's death in Sanity and Grace, and of her own journey back to life and giving.

Out of darkness... music, light, and love.

And hope.

A good time - and a cold time - was had by all! On Friday and Saturday, my two sisters Valerie and Jennifer, my brother Ray, and my parents welcomed dozens of people to this sale of 45 years' worth of "stuff" that had accumulated in our house on Overbrook. (Hmm. I notice that I call it "our" house, even though I haven't lived there in decades and even though I haven't contributed a dime to its mortgage!)

It was a walk down memory lane. Old clothes, tools, books, records (remember A Taste of Honey? The Ray Conniff Singers?), and many many coffee makers and spatulas. Towels, sheets and blankets from the lake house... colorful margarita glasses and a bright yellow end table and random remotes and big-ass phones with cords... and a plastic Budweiser Beer sign that my dad insisted on pricing at $35 (no, it didn't sell). And I found my "letter jacket" from high school marching band, which of course no longer fits but which I of course did not sell. And I found a Senior Scholastic Magazine from December 1969. The back page had an ad for Royal Typewriters - "Ask mom and dad to get one for you! You will get better grades and - groovy! - it has a transistor radio in its case!" One article wondered about what was ahead in the 1970s - did you know that computers were big machines that could solve hard problems very fast? Maybe someday, every college will have one on its campus!

I arrived late Thursday and apparently had missed the most exciting and slightly tense part of the pre-sale process - the negotiation among family members about how to price the various items. Of course, Mom and Dad had the last word, but each person had their opinions based on emotional attachment to the thing or to vast experience with other garage sales. Not surprisingly, given my push-over personality, once the sale started I was tempted to let people pay whatever they wanted. Fortunately, we had rules - no price cuts until after noon. When my Dad's back was turned, however, I often charged only a dime, instead of a quarter, for a flower vase or mug.

Did I mention that it was about 50 degrees? A windy 50 that led me to root through my parents' drawers and closet for socks and coats.

Each visitor seemed to be on a mission. We had many requests for military stuff - uniforms, documents, guns, knives - and for stamps, coins, and jewelry. We did have several small baggies filled with costume jewelry - miscellaneous necklaces and earrings from across the decades. We found some pretty cool big clunky earrings from the 1980s, as well as some novelty items. Somehow, no matter how many times we tucked them into bags with other pieces, the blinking Santa Claus earrings ended up alone on the table, tucked under some place mats or tea towels. And my mother parted with her collection of crystal salt cellars, one by one, many with its own tiny spoon.

Many people had stories to tell - one man bought a coffee maker for his son who could not find a replacement carafe to fit his fancy coffee maker; another bought a bin of chunky chalk for his grandchildren and talked about how they love to draw on his sidewalk when they visit. Several families with only one English-speaking member came and bought toys and household goods. It felt very good to be passing things that we no longer used on to others who needed them. Sustainability - recycling and reusing.

My brother and sisters and I had many conversations about "stuff." We all, to varying degrees acknowledged that we had way too much stuff, and after being surrounded by stuff for two days, we pledged to go clean out our own attics and closets. 

Stuff and stuff. Last Thursday, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette published an article Lessons from the Amish. Tim Grant, the author, described how the Amish have easily weathered the economic recession that has plagued the nation. In Amish communities, people live below their means. Imagine that - below their means. What a sense of freedom that would bring - freedom and energy that can be devoted to more important things.

On my way home, I had a minor car accident (well, I drove over a curb at a gas station in Flatwoods, West Virginia and three kind men lifted the car back onto the road). I bent something - I noticed immediately that the steering was off - and yet, like a fool, I drove the remaining two hours home, 45 miles an hour, flashers flashing. Steve's nephew, Donny, owns a body shop and is taking care of things - he did tell me that I should NOT have driven the car home, but I did make it. So I am without a car for several days and get to ride the bus again. And then. My furnace isn't working - so we are a bit chilly. I plan to sleep in Steve's red WYEP sweatshirt tonight 'cause it has a big hood. 

But as I used to tell my kids when they were young (and a little whiny about not getting what they wanted) - "Yes, we are rich. Absolutely. We have a roof over our heads, food to eat, clothes to wear, and FAMILY! We are RICH IN LOVE!" They would roll their eyes - but I know they got it.

Your Environmental Road Trip....
Tuesday 9/20 - Eddy Theater - Chatham University, Woodland Road - doors open at 6:30; film at 7 pm. SOLD OUT!
Second screening - Wednesday 9/21 - Theater at Homewood Library, 7101 Hamilton Ave, Pittsburgh, PA 15208. Doors open at 6:30pm, screening from 7:00pm - 9:00pm, followed by Q&A with Mark. 

You may have heard of the No Impact Man film, launched a couple of years ago:

A newly self-proclaimed environmentalist who could no longer avoid pointing the finger at himself, Colin leaves behind his liberal complacency and vows to make as little environmental impact as possible for one year.  No more automated transportation, no more electricity, no more non-local food, no more material consumption…no problem.  That is, until his espresso-guzzling, retail-worshipping wife, Michelle, and their two year-old daughter are dragged into the fray.  What began as one man’s environmental experiment quickly becomes an experiment in how much one woman is willing to sacrifice for her husband’s dreams.
 
I haven't yet seen the film, but today I just learned of the No Impact Week Project, described by the original No Impact Man Colin Beavan as a one-week carbon cleanse - a time to explore what a difference no (or lower) impact living can make for your quality of life. The week-long experiment is co-sponsored by Yes! Magazine and is free. So I registered for this and... IT STARTS TOMORROW! SEPTEMBER 18 - YIKES!

When I registered, I was immediately sent a guide, which I have posted on the Resources page. Below is Sunday's challenge - check out the guide if you are interested in details and helpful links:

Welcome to Day 1 of your No Impact Experiment!
Live a fuller and happier life by buying less stuff. 
This first challenge is about doing more with less. People around the world are discovering that they'd rather spend time making social connections than buying new stuff. To learn why this is such an important part of living a lower impact life, watch one of our favorite videos, The Story of Stuff. The No Impact Experiment is a truncated version of Colin Beavan’s experience trying to live in New York City with no environmental impact. Three months into Colin’s year-long experiment, he stopped consuming new goods (except food). As his wife Michelle discovered, when you kick your shopping habit, you’ll save money, have more time to spend with your family and friends, discover more space in your house, andmaybe — just maybe — you’ll discover that less really IS more.

[Okay, I just have to say here that I am a tad offended by the sexist tone of these blurbs - but I will try to withhold judgment until I see the movie :) ]

I recognize that it is truly a luxury to undertake such a project - to even think about, "OK, I could buy that but I won't." It is an odd situation to be in, trying to moderate shopping, consuming, wasting, when so many across the world are in no position at all to have anything to moderate. And I am certain that most of our grandparents and great-grandparents would look askance at these efforts to LEARN a style of living that they must have lived by necessity each day. Nevertheless, I think about this stuff a lot and am open to anything that helps me be more aware of my place in this whole environmental mess, anything that helps me look at my habits and maybe tweak them a little. And I am certainly open to these activities when they happen on a larger scale. So I am in for the week (I humbly and hopefully say today), and will let you know how it goes.

I am intrigued by Colin Beavan's work - his personal project and the resulting film. What I am most curious about is the story behind it, which I guess I will learn as I read more and see the film. Who was the little Colin Beavan who eventually grew into a man who would undertake and record such a project? What was his family like, his own childhood? What shaped him toward this future? Where will he go next?

Stories. Last night I attended Stories on the Square at the Square Cafe, sponsored by the Initiative for Transgender Leadership. Pittsburgh Post-Gazette's Tony Norman wrote movingly and humbly about his interview with Rayden Sorock, an ITL member who worked to get this event going. Friday night, several people told stories of emergence, of coming out from under. 

The stories were told "without a net" in nine minutes each, and were quite remarkable. Some of the stories were related to gender, sexual orientation, and identity. ALL of the stories were about what it means to be human. Human - in all of its glory, pain, mistakes, misunderstandings, wounds, and healing. The stories brought laughter, tears, and sighs of recognition.

Julie just sent me an article entitled "What Do We Know When We Know a Person?" - she is reading this for her Theories of Personality class - saying that she is intrigued by the Level III of personality described by the author.  According to McAdams (1995), the psychologist who attends to Level III of an individual's personality is interested not just in a person's behavior or thoughts or feelings, or hobbies and interests. She is curious about how the individual's life expresses unity, purpose, and meaning. The psychologist sees the life as an internalized and evolving life story. A story.

I love this idea - it is what pulled me toward the work that I do.

What is your story?

Power comes in all shapes and sizes, from all directions, many sources. The most lasting power, the most sustainable, comes from within. From within the individual, the family, the community. It is "power with" as opposed to "power over." This kind of power can move mountains.

Pittsburgh has power galore - here are just a few amazing things going on around here - Sunflowers, YERT, F.U.S.E. Read on.

Sunflower Power. Last night was a wonderful benefit event at PerLora on the Southside of Pittsburgh, raising funds for POWER - Pennsylvania Organization for Women in Early Recovery. Why the Sunflower theme? Because...             

Recovery is very challenging. I have a daughter who is, thankfully, well into recovery from her eating disorder. From Julie, I have learned that recovery can be a very long and lonely road. Groups like POWER are there to make the process just a little less awful.

Sherree Goldstein, owner of the Square Cafe in Regent Square, donated food for the event. The staff from the Square donated beauty and glamour and service! Look at Hallie and Jess above! On top of these contributions to POWER, Sherree - along with Hallie, Jess, Chelsey, Lizzie, Christina, Sara x 2, Heather, WILLIAM, Kevin, Ariel, Laura - and... and... senior moment I can't remember... more and more and more beautiful people - also serve love and grace everyday at the Square. 

And next up... YERT and F.U.S.E.

The Pittsburgh Premiere of the documentary "YERT - Your Environmental Road Trip" - will take place at Chatham University in the Eddy Theater at 7 pm on Tuesday September 20. Check out this trailer. Here is a "Short Synopsis" of the film - I am so excited to see this!!!

50 States. 1 Year. Zero Garbage? Called to action by a planet in peril, three friends hit the road - packing hope, humor. . .and all of their trash - searching for innovators and citizens solving humanity's greatest environmental crises. Piling on personal challenges as they explore every state in a year (the good, the bad, and the weird), an unexpected turn of events pushes the team to the brink in this award-winning docu-comedy. Featuring Bill McKibben, Wes Jackson, Will Allen, Janine Benyus, Joel Salatin, David Orr, and others.

Funny story - my older brother Ray Ely has an urban farm in Louisville, KY - apple trees, other fruits, vegetables, rabbits, chickens, rain barrels, rain garden - the real deal. Here is just one of his YOUTUBE demonstrations - Ray Ely and Permaculture. So I see that YERT was going to play in Louisville tonight - I email him about this exciting new film since it seems like it is right up his alley and - truth be told - it's kind of fun thinking that the little sister can teach the big brother something.... His response - two of the three people who created the film, Ben and Julie, live around the corner from him and he knows them well! Small world. More about Ray later - he is an amazing man. Once he said to me, "You know, we all really deep down know what right is. We have just forgotten." He is living a good life, sharing his food and his wisdom and knowledge with his community, educating and empowering others.

AND last but certainly not least - F.U.S.E. - Fostering Skills for Urban Kids through Social-Emotional-Literacy Education. Yes, F.U.S.E. is a BLAST whether or not the letters exactly match up to the group's purpose! Two of my new friends, Michele Passorello and Christine Carnevali, also regulars at the Square, have started this project. Christine is a high school teacher in nearby Wilkinsburg. 

F.U.S.E.'s Mission: 
Passionately committed to bridging Pittsburgh's literacy gap faced by urban youth, F.U.S.E. merges artistic and authentic learning in a safe, neutral, and green space. The pursuit of social and emotional wellness is our core value.  We believe this vision, coupled with explicit connections and community relationships, will lead youth to their own self-advocacy and actualization. 

F.U.S.E. will hold its first fundraiser on Thursday September 22 at 6 pm at - where else? - the Square. 

Pretty powerful stuff, eh?

Today was our first annual "day at the farm" for new doctoral counseling psychology students. Christa and Brittney and other senior students did a great job of welcoming these new folks. The farm, Eden Hall, is a beautiful pastoral place. We loved that we heard very little other than birds - no cars or trucks, no planes. Eden Hall has many quiet corners - outside by the pond that commemorates the original owner, Sebastian Mueller, indoors in a dimly lit sitting room, on the swing hanging from the huge tree out back. I was just there to help out if needed. So while the students did their thing, I caught up on some writing, then wandered around and just relaxed. I had not swung on a swing, as I did today, in a very very long time!

I haven't yet shared the history of Eden Hall with you. Eden Hall is a 388-acre estate located in Pine-Richland Township north of Pittsburgh. Chatham received it as a gift in 2008, and is working toward the establishment of a home for our new School of Sustainability and the Environment there. Currently, Eden Hall is the site for initiatives in sustainability, food studies activities, and organic gardening. 

Chatham's web-site describes the unique history of this property:

Originally a farm and retreat for the working women of Pittsburgh, Eden Hall was the vision of Sebastian Mueller (1860-1938) who immigrated to Pittsburgh from his native Germany in 1884 to work for his cousin Henry J. Heinz in his fledgling food processing operation. Mr. Mueller spent more than five decades working for what was then called "The House of Heinz". He headed the company's manufacturing operations, served on its board of directors and ran the organization during Mr. Heinz' absence. Sebastian Mueller won the respect and gratitude of not only the company's founder but also its legion of working women.

Mr. Mueller was generous in providing Heinz' female employees with medical care and financial assistance - long before the existence of corporate health care plans or government programs. His estate became the retreat for generations of Pittsburgh's working women and served as a memorial to the Mueller's two daughters, Elsa and Alma, both of whom died in childhood. Having no heirs, Mr. Mueller willed Eden Hall to serve as a vacation and respite destination for the working and retired women of the H.J. Heinz Company, as well as for the working women of western Pennsylvania.

Our doctoral students have committed to several years of study and practice that will lead them toward professional lives that serve individuals, families, and communities of all kinds. How fortunate we are to have the rich history of Sebastian Mueller and Eden Hall as models of service to the larger good. And how blessed we were today as we enjoyed this farm together.

Whoa - check out this picture. This has been my life, and mind, over the last couple of weeks. In case you cannot tell what is going on in the photo, it is a picture my dad took of us dancing the hora at Leah and Michael's wedding. Around and around, weaving and circling, coming together and parting, with such happiness, chaos, and energy. The wedding was a feast of joy - we are all still floating on cloud nine, still basking in the love that was present.

Leah and Michael are very wealthy in the love that they share for one another, and in the love among them and their friends and their families. Yes, the wedding was festive and big and glorious, with music to die for, cakes and wine and more food and drink than you can imagine, beautiful dresses, beautiful-er men and women, flowers, sacred traditions and prayers - and the abundant joy would have still been experienced if the day had simply been families and friends coming together to witness Leah and Michael's vows of commitment to one another.

I have been thinking about abundance - I think that I have talked about this a bit before. I am amazed at what riches I find when I look, when I listen and wait. In June, I sent the photo below to Sheila Rodgers, the photographer for Nancy Gift's book Good Weed, Bad Weed. Sheila is my dear friend, secretary, and "queen of f***ing everything." I asked Sheila if this plant that was growing like, well, like a weed, was indeed a weed. There were several of these plants, growing taller and taller in the beds in front of my house and looking like a mess. Sheila's response -  "Depends on whether or not you like it and want it." 

So I - who am not a very patient person - decided to wait to see what would happen. Here are some photos of the same plants from the last few weeks. They speak the language of sunshine, greeting me each evening as I return home from work.

I have been a weed before in my life - offering what I felt like were gifts to folks who did not want what I had to give. And, without much change at all on my part - same old genes, same old personality and looks, I have so not been a weed in other worlds, among people who treasured and valued what I can give. And I have seen places that have been viewed as eyesores, as weeds to be eradicated, to some, and as jewels in the making to others. I have told you about Chris Condello of Wilkinsburg and the Whitney Avenue garden, and about Juliette and Michelle of Pittsburgh Permaculture and the Hazelwood Food Forest, who have taken abandoned vacant lots and transformed them into life-giving spaces providing food for their communities. Looks like this is catching on elsewhere, based on this recent NY Times article. Weeds and vacant lots, or food and communities. Our choice.

My summer class, Psychology and the Environment, is coming to an end. What a motley crew we are - counseling students (some of whom admittedly took the class only because they needed an elective and all of the other classes were either full or didn't fit their schedule), landscape architecture students (who must have been thinking throughout much of the course - "what in the world have we gotten into here?") and me - a late bloomer who has become enthralled with all things ecological - with the beauty of this world, and how it all works together, and how we can nurture and protect it. I have so treasured our class time together, learning alongside these people and experiencing each person, including myself, wake up just a little bit more each night.

Last night was an amazing class. Chris Condello did his first public speaking about the Whitney Avenue garden, telling the story of his own life and the community that is growing, thanks to his efforts, tomato by tomato, pumpkin by pumpkin. Please, please, please check out his blog and think about what you might also have to offer to your own corner of the world. Heather Smith, one of our own counseling students, also spoke. She had just returned from her annual trip to Oregon where she spends time in the wilderness with friends who are passionate about being with and learning from the natural world - she spoke about "deep ecology" and about the advocacy and activist roles that counselors and other ordinary citizens can take on. 

Both Chris and Heather spoke the truth from their hearts. They bring spirit and light to their work and to their lives that touch so many others. Their work is not simple or clean. Neither one's story fits into a nice, neat box with square corners and straight lines - no box that might suggest lives of rules, predictability, and control. Their lives are messy. And wonderful. And abundantly rich. Just like ours. Particularly if we are willing, like them, to really see and listen, to get our hands dirty as we muck around in the soil with the bugs, worms, basil leaves, grape vines, and the occasional wild raccoon.

Finally got my rain barrels hooked up, thanks to friends from the Nine Mile Run Watershed Association - just in time for some good showers. How goes it in your world?

Last Friday, I had the pleasure of meeting Chris Condello in person, an urban farmer - gardener - magician - activist - mentor who lives on Whitney Avenue in Wilkinsburg. I mentioned him in a recent post. Chris and his landlady, Casey, took me on a tour of the street and the neighborhood nearby, showing me the work that Chris and his young neighbors had done together. As I told you earlier, Chris' street, Whitney Avenue, has about 10 abandoned houses out of 22 homes on the street. Chris told me that the word in town used to be - "Avoid Whitney Avenue at all costs." It was seen as one of the most dangerous areas in Wilkinsburg. Chris showed me houses where formerly broken or boarded up windows are now covered with colorful murals painted on boards by an art group and kids on the street. He and friends keep all the abandoned yards mowed, and have planted flowers and vegetables around the houses. The lots behind and beside Chris' rented apartment have been transformed into Eden - apple trees, more varieties of tomatoes and zucchini and basil than I ever knew existed, grapes, berries, onions, herbs, flowers, swiss chard, pumpkins. Under the supervision of Chris' young neighbor, Brandon, kids from the street work in the garden and often can be seen sampling the fruits of their labors. They also sell some of the produce at a stand on the front porch of one of the empty houses.

The peace garden, above, was built by Chris and others on the corner of a block where a young man was murdered. Again, the community came together to work on this, and continues to maintain it.

I will tell only a tiny bit of Chris' story, because I really want you to visit his blog yourself and, if you are in Pittsburgh, to meet him in person. Chris told me about his decade-long heroin addiction that was so bad that his family lived with a constant fear of a phone call announcing either his death or arrest. He said to me that he has put so much bad karma out there in his life that he is trying to return as much good karma as he can. I asked Chris if he considered his garden and neighborhood work to be part of his recovery. His response - "It IS my recovery!" On Friday, before he left to install a water heater in a neighbor's home, Chris gave me some zucchini and onions, which we added to our own tomatoes, radishes, and lettuce for a good meal that night.  

I encourage you to read today's post on Chris' blog for a sense of the substantive work that he is doing and the leadership he is demonstrating. In short, Chris' helpers discovered that some other kids had wrecked the garden, throwing veggies around and tearing things up. The police were called, the kids were found, and, under adult supervision, the kids gathered up the ruined vegetables and put them in the composting bin. It is touching that the young boys who had helped to grow the garden told the other kids that they had trashed food that would cost a lot of money in the grocery.

The only word that I can think of to describe an experience like this - to describe what Chris does in general - is love (Chris, don't know if you agree or not - but that's how I see it!). Love, laced with generosity, forgiveness, accountability, and responsibility. Not bad. I know Chris does not consider himself a saint, however - he acknowledged feeling frustrated when people don't always pitch in to take care of the flowers that beautify the street. But the generosity, enthusiasm, and caring are what came through when I listened to Chris.

Michael and Leah's wedding is almost upon us! It will truly be a celebration with so many families and friends gathered together to bless this union. Leah and Michael have love - lots of it. They are patient with one another, generous, forgiving, kind. This is a good way to start a life-time together. Please keep them - and Chris and his kids and friends - in your heart and prayers.

Pictures below - Leah and Mikey, and the garden and young gardeners via Chris' blog.

Home. Where is yours? Where do you feel safe, cared for, relaxed, able to be yourself? Where is your "place"? What makes it your special place?

My home is Pittsburgh, specifically the communities in the eastern part of the city - Regent Square, Squirrel Hill, Highland Park, East Liberty, Lawrenceville. These are wonderful communities, rich with history, striding confidently into the future with new ways of being together. 

What makes this place my home? I love the diversity of people and ideas and opinions that are here - I love seeing the bodacious bumper stickers on the cars, the older citizens who steadfastly stand at the four corners of the Forbes and Braddock intersection on Saturday mornings to protest the war, the quirky local restaurants, the vibrant houses of faith that serve their congregations and the larger community, the parks and the rivers. I love the friends that I have in this place who share many of my values and ideals, and who vociferously disagree with me on others.

My house is part of this home. It was built in 1929 and has had, I believe, four owners since that time. It is a sturdy bungalow, built for another time with its very tiny closets, built-in bookshelves, scarred wooden floors. It has a tiny yard which is just big enough for a garden of radishes, lettuce, tomatoes, zucchini. My house is part of my home because it provides shelter and comfort for me and my loved ones. Last winter, Michael brought his fiancee Leah to my home and invited his high school buddies over to introduce them to Leah (by the way, the wedding is 11 days away!). I have known these boys-men for most of my son's life - yes, he invited only his guy friends, with whom Leah more than held her own - I left them at the dining room table around 11 pm, and went to sleep on a cloud of happiness, knowing that these people who are so important to my son were gathered in this home to celebrate Michael's next step in life.

Of course, my family is also part of my home, my place, even when they are geographically removed. Around my house are Julie and Michael's art projects, books, toys, photos, gifts, cards.... pieces of their lives and spirits that are shared with me, that find a home in my house. My home is shared with Steve a good part of the time - filled with his generosity, humor, and kindness.

Poet Gary Snyder says - "Find your place on the planet. Dig in and take responsibility from there.” I have found my place. I identify with my home - my house, my neighborhood, my city, my family. It is part of me, and I see myself as part of this home. I feel an allegiance to my home, a sense of ownership beyond the financial property sense - a sense of responsibility to it. My home includes both property owned by me and the more important commons - that which is accessible to all, not privately owned. I will protect it, take care of it, improve it. 

The Earth is also my home - this planet with all of its natural beauty and chaos, side-by-side with human-made technology and structures both wonderful and terrible. I try to stay connected and present to all parts of this home, as well as my smaller home, so that I am aware of how it is feeling and doing. I feel loyal to this much larger home. I have a sense of responsibility to care for it, not to hurt it, to heal its brokenness. I know that I am part of this larger home - embedded in it and dependent upon it - so that what is good for this larger Earth home is in the end good for me and my loved ones.

Tell us about your homes.

Eric Sanderson is a landscape ecologist who has worked for over a decade to try to discover what the island of Manhattan looked like 400 years ago - with flora and fauna that were relatively undisturbed by modernity. Through historical research and sophisticated computer geo-referencing techniques, he and his colleagues have been able to map out what the island landscape might have looked like when Henry Hudson arrived in the New World. They have re-created visions of what the "habitats" of the original island dwellers, animal and human, might have been - the habitats that provided food, shelter, water, and reproductive resources for the Native Americans and animals that first populated this area. 

Sanderson's renderings show us the original natural wealth of this island that today is so densely populated and concretized. His work is not meant to make a judgment about the Manhattan of today vs the Mannahatta of centuries ago. The work does, however, provide food for thought about how humans might live more sustainably in the future - it portrays one option of a dense, tall city that houses millions of people side-by-side with farmland and woods that have been restored. The landscape architecture students in class tonight suggested that this might be one way to handle things if transportation between large cities and far-off farmlands, or between suburbs and food sources, becomes too costly for the average person or community.

As we talked tonight about what it might be like to move from a relatively large suburban dwelling with a green yard into a super-high-rise dwelling with smaller residences and lots of people close-by, we bumped up against uncomfortable feelings. We often associate the "American dream" with independence, large spaces, privacy, private ownership, freedom to move and be at will. This dream is supported by our institutions and our economy, by the advertisements coming from Madison Avenue. What would it be like to live so differently? (I know that many people already do live this way!) 

I don't have answers for anyone else, but I do recognize my own discomfort when my "space" is cramped. As I traveled to West Virginia for the March on Blair Mountain, it occurred to me that I was moving a little outside of my comfort zone. For a couple of days, I would be following someone else's (strangers') schedules for activities, mealtimes, transportation, and so on. I would be outdoors for much of the time, with no car nearby in case it rained, or I got hungry, or I got bored. Moving into even the one day of marching made me realize how protective I am of my own time and space and movement - such a privileged and sheltered life I lead. 

So how was it? To be honest, it probably helped that I knew the experience would last only a day or so, that there was an end-point in sight - that helped for sure. I have to say, however, that the mild discomforts that I did experience, the heat, the waiting, the fatigue (good grief, what a wuss I sound like!) were far outweighed by my experience of being part of something bigger than myself and by watching all of the wonderful people who came together for this cause.

I occasionally get emails from a Pittsburgh environmental group - Transition Pittsburgh - one of many local groups of very cool people who are trying to better the world one garden, one project at a time. Today, I read about Chris Condello, a resident of Wilkinsburg, a pretty poor community nearby - poor in economic terms, that is. For example, on Chris' block, 10 out of 22 houses are abandoned. He and others are transforming this community vacant lot by vacant lot - planting vegetables and flowers in a variety of public spaces, gathering the neighborhood kids in and teaching them how to wield a spade and to sell the lettuce they grow. Wilkinsburg, in the middle of Pittsburgh - maybe not super-high-rise buildings but definitely urban - greening up with all hands on board. 

I think about Chris' work - it takes courage to step out into the public, out of our private spaces, to engage with relative strangers and create something new, something that has no certain outcome. It takes courage to offer help to and to ask for help from people you don't yet know well. I hope to visit the Whitney Avenue Garden in Wilkinsburg and to talk with Chris about the project. I wonder if projects like this can be transformed for Sanderson's futuristic Manhattan - the extra tall city with farmland all around. Can this kind of community-building work there? Can we get used to living closer together, sacrificing some personal space and time for the common good? Would our lives have a different kind of meaning - a different definition of "the good life" or "happiness" under these circumstances? What do you think?

Lots of good stuff is happening in West Virginia as I write. Visit these sites for current news about the March on Blair Mountain:

• Kentuckians for the Commonwealth
• Kentucky Rising (on Facebook)
• March on Blair Mountain

We have had beautiful weather in Pittsburgh this week - great for hiking, walking, and biking, and just sitting and listening to the birds. It is raining heavily today - hope the marchers in WV are staying dry.

I am planning to go to the last two days of this event - going for a training session on Friday and the march up the mountain and rally on Saturday. In preparation, I have been reading the 2008 Silas House/Jason Howard book - Something's Rising: Appalachians Fighting Mountaintop Removal - through interviews with and stories of many mountain people, I am learning and remembering a lot. 

My brothers and sisters and I used to spend some weeks each summer in Lynch, KY, the site of the highest mountain in KY - Big Black Mountain - where my parents grew up and my grandparents lived. Half of Big Black Mountain is in Lynch, KY and half is in VA. The half that is in VA has been decimated by mountain top removal. The people of Lynch and nearby Cumberland and Benham are fighting the forces of A and G coal to preserve their part of Big Black Mountain.

I think about Lynch a lot. I remember the smell of coal dust - not unpleasant, but what did I know? - and the rattling sound of coal-carrying trains, and the sights of the miners clomping up the road in their heavy boots at the end of a shift, white eyes in coal-darkened faces, some as young as 14 or 15. I also remember, back in the mid-late 1960s, seeing the separate bath houses labeled for "colored" and "white" miners. 

Although my older brother and I were born in Lynch, our family moved away from Harlan County when my father entered the University of KY to study engineering, funded by the GI Bill. Lexington was a big city compared to Lynch. I often wonder what this change was like for my mom - who eventually was the  mother of five children. I wonder what it was like for her to move from such a small town, far away from her home, friends (who are close friends to this day), and parents - to a city with bluegrass and softly rolling hills, a city that was so different in culture and topography than her mountainous home. 

In my childhood, the only way to get back to Lynch for a visit was over twisty mountain roads, torture for this little girl who was prone to car-sickness (particularly when adults smoked cigarettes and cigars - oh, how times have changed! no seat belts then either - all five of us climbing back and forth over seats, elbowing and stepping on one another). 

In college, I came across Yesterday's People: Life in Contemporary Appalachia (1965),  by Jack Weller. This was written about Appalachia pre-cable TV -- actually, probably, pre-access to much TV at all - the signals just couldn't come in. This was written when many people actually did live up in the hollers. It was fascinating to read Weller's ideas about tendencies of children in the mountains to express stress and anxiety psycho-somatically - through tummy aches and headaches - particularly when the worry was about separation from home and family. 

Makes sense when you think that many of the people had not ever traveled much outside of their small community or county. I could certainly identify with that. Our homes, where we have grown from deeply-planted roots, really shape who we are. 

Makes me wonder about what it would be like NOT to have deep roots in a particular place. Do you then root yourself into something that is different, that you can carry with you wherever you go? What or where would that be?

Oops - off track here! I am really looking forward to my trip later this week, and I will let you know how it goes. Hope to have stories and pictures to share.

Friday morning, I was sitting at my regular table at the Square Cafe, eating my lemon ricotta pancake and drinking iced tea, helping Jim with his crossword puzzle, and enjoying the easy start to the day. Spring was finally here. Graduation was scheduled for the weekend. A fresh semester would start Monday - with me teaching some great students who would be new to me. Life was (is!) good! 

I picked up the Post-Gazette and noticed two front page articles - front and center - and began reading.... and lost my appetite. I felt tears coming to my eyes, and an ache in my heart, and, yes, I admit it, anger and fury - all over my body where those feelings reside, I felt their heat and intensity.

The articles that fired me up? (1) A story about the newly published independent review of the Upper Big Branch coal mining explosion that took the lives of 29 coal miners on April 5, 2010. The finding - gross neglect - primarily on the part of Massey Energy's shoddy oversight of mine safety, and the federal and state regulatory officials who had counted and cited several hundreds of safety violations and yet never closed the mines. AND (2) the first person accounts of the men who survived the mining disaster. 

As noted in the first story, the independent review does not read like a dry technical report written by sterile bureaucrats. It reads like a thriller - a record of a historical event that rivals stories of war, natural disasters, plagues. Its main characters are humans - archetypes that have existed for centuries. An extra-big villain - Don Blankenship, a West Virginia native with an uncanny facial resemblance, though with a little more flesh, to another despot with a tiny black mustache - Mr. B is known as the dark lord of West Virginia coal country. 

Rolling Stone magazine published an expose of Mr. B's work and his response to the mining explosion. Shortly after the article appeared, he resigned as CEO of Massey Energy - with a mighty big golden parachute, I might add. His salary had spiked in the months before the disaster. And even though he saw a drop in salary of 48% by the end of 2010, he still walked off with millions and will sit pretty for the rest of his life. The people most directly affected by his actions and non-actions related both to the explosion and the mining-related environmental devastation could most certainly use some of that money - for health costs, for pain and suffering, for de-valued homes, for educational funds for spouses and children left without a husband and father. Yes, they sure could use - and most certainly deserve - such help.

Don Blankenship may be one of the big villains. There are lesser bad guys galore - many of whom look the other way in order to keep their jobs and salaries and, sometimes, their political seats - or maybe, because they are human, to avoid conflict and confrontation. 

Those in the middle - the ones who know that the jobs they work both keep food on the table and poison the creek out back - these people often just feel stuck. These are the folks who don't see or understand alternatives, or fear change, or don't trust that things could be better, so they stick with the familiar.

The heroes and/or victims - they are the coal miners, and their families, and future families who will face the vast destruction associated with the mountain top removal typical of Massey Energy and similar companies, and with the dark underground mining in dank and dusty caves. Many of these heroes and victims come from a long line of miners and have deep roots in the mountains of Appalachia. The drivers of the plot - greed, neglect, inaction and passivity, ignorance, acts of God (according to Mr.  B), bogged down bureaucracy, and many others.

Not so much talked about though? The chorus of this drama - the reporters and observers who do not necessarily act in big parts. You and me. Watching television reports about the explosion, reading newspapers, talking to friends, maybe signing petitions to voice our disgust with big coal operations, and.... flipping on light switches, recharging our multiple devices, typing away on our keyboards, TiVo-ing our favorite shows, and generally living our day to day lives without really seeing the men and the families of men whose labors feed the energy that travels the wires to our homes.

To really understand the fix we are in, we need to recognize that fossil fuels have supplied cheap, abundant and effective energy of all kinds for over a century - much cheaper than in most other parts of the world, much cheaper than the price of alternative energies that aren't yet built to scale, cheaper today than the long-term costs associated with the use of fossil-fuel driven energy. We review our electric bills, maybe shop around for a lower rate, turn off lights when not in use, perhaps even unplug the coffee-maker and other LED-lit appliances. We do that, most of us, without really understanding or even actually thinking about the fact that most electricity in our country is powered by coal burning plants... which are fueled by coal.... that is dug from deep underground by men in hazardous conditions (even in the 21st century) or sheared off the surface by giant machines doing mountain top removal that destroys the natural environment and the health of the people who live nearby. 

Can those (we) in the chorus be villains or heroes, or are we limited to the passive roles of observer and reporter? When we see disaster coming, can we intervene and prevent chaos and destruction? Can we warn the heroes and victims-to-be? I think the authors of these dramas can have the chorus do whatever they want. I think we can even become authors of the dramas, or at least co-screen-writers.

We don't have to do it alone. We have options - one coming soon is the March on Blair Mountain in West Virginia - from the web-site:

We march to preserve Blair Mountain, abolish mountaintop removal, strengthen labor rights, and an investment in sustainable job creation for all Appalachian communities.The March on Blair Mountain is a peaceful, unifying rally involving environmental justice organizations, workers, scholars, artists, and other citizens and groups. The march commemorates the 90th anniversary of the Battle of Blair Mountain in 1921, when 10,000 coal miners rose against the rule of the coal operators and fought for the basic right to live and work in decent conditions. Currently, Blair Mountain is threatened with obliteration by mountaintop removal (MTR) mining, and it is here that a new generation of Appalachians takes a stand.

In the spirit of the original march–which consisted of mountain peoples, African-Americans, and immigrants from all over Europe–we reach out to a diversity of groups to march in solidarity for the workers, communities and mountains of Appalachia. If you stand with us, you are one of us — a true mountaineer.

I was in Birmingham, Alabama this past weekend, arriving the day after the devastating tornadoes decimated areas of the city. My family's homes were spared. My mom, sisters, and I watched the news all weekend (and yes, we also watched the Royal Wedding!). The scenes were terrifying (not the wedding - except for some of those hats!). The scenes of both the tornadoes themselves and the destruction they left in their wake were frightening and sobering.

I was heartened by stories of community members reaching out to help their neighbors. Those who had, shared. Newscasters even announced that the shelters were not overflowing because of the community members who had opened their homes to strangers. There were far more volunteers than needed. 

On my flight home, I sat next to a retired man from the Gulf Shores of Alabama, which he described as a great place for people to retire. He was originally from Birmingham - we talked about the tornadoes, then our conversation moved to the Gulf Oil Spill and Hurricanes Katrina and Ivan, all of which affected this same geographic area. I heard something from my seat-mate that was different from what I usually hear - his perception of the oil spill, for example, was that the negative effects on the ocean, beaches, and wildlife had been significantly exaggerated. The oil spill had not interfered with his deep sea fishing at all, after the first couple of weeks of clean-up. He had not been affected by Hurricane Katrina, but one of his homes had been destroyed by Hurricane Ivan a few years earlier. He had the financial resources to rebuild, and life went on. He did also reveal that he was a millionaire.

I feel confused at times, trying to reconcile a brief personal vignette like this with scenes that I see on TV or in magazines, and with peer-reviewed research that I read. I crave answers and understanding. I do not think that the effects of these disaster phenomena are uniform. It makes sense that someone who has financial, vocational, health, and social resources prior to the event - as did this man, from what he said - will experience a lesser degree of stress than someone who lives week to week on a limited income, has health problems, and has fewer social supports.

So what? Is this just the way of the world? Are these discrepancies inevitable? Why am I even talking about this? Hang in there - I do have a point.

Social discrepancies like this become more pronounced when we look at the effects of environmental degradation, whether from natural disasters or from other disastrous events to which human choices have contributed.  Discrepancies also become more significant when we look at gradual changes, such as those related to climate change or the decline in non-renewable natural resources, both of which are affected by human behavior/choice.

Consider the following example -- Most scientists involved in studies of the environment and of climate change see us as approaching (or as being at) the point of peak oil - our highest point of oil production, after which the availability of oil will gradually decline. It is predicted that, when we are at or beyond the point of peak oil, the prices of oil will sky-rocket (supply-demand theory comes into play) - which will have a huge impact on the typical western lifestyle. 

In this situation, the resource discrepancy described above widens, and its consequences become more pronounced. Think about it - when gas prices creep - or leap - up (right now, it is 3.98/gallon at my station), some of us are able to just pay up without feeling too much pain, while others are deeply impacted in terms of our ability to get to work, the doctor, or the grocery. And oil and gas costs are tied into much, much more than personal transportation - they also affect the costs of transporting food across the country (or world), of heating and air-conditioning, of emergency medical and fire-fighting services, of manufacturing of millions of different products such as medicines and cell phones and home appliances - almost anything you can think of.

What responsibility do those of us with adequate or above-adequate resources have to those of us who are less fortunate? Do we keep shelling out 3.98/gallon or more and paying more for non-local food - those of us who can - with the belief or hope that someone will find some technological solution to the problem - while others' lives are severely hampered? Or do we start to think long-term about what we can do today - together with others - to offset the predicted climate change and/or its effects?

WE DO NOT HAVE A CRYSTAL BALL. The predictions related to climate change and peak oil are based on complex statistical modelling - and we don't know what we don't know about influential factors in the whole picture. I believe we know enough, however, that we need to think about and work together on these issues. 

The cool thing about working with others on these issues is that you get to know some very smart, skilled, funny people - you have a good time while you are also doing good.

In the absence of a crystal ball, educate yourself. Go to the Resources page, for example, and visit the IPCC web-site, read through the Psychology and Climate Change documents. And don't stop there - find your own information and read with a critical and questioning mind.

And think about this -- what possible harm could come from working cooperatively with others to live healthier and more meaningful lives? I am betting the good would far outweigh any harm.

According to his parents, Rev. Glenn and Marsha Grayson - and to news reports - Jeron Grayson was a star athlete, a wonderful son and brother, a loyal friend, an excited college student, an inspiring community member, and an aspiring activist. On October 17, 2010, Jeron was tragically and randomly killed, while home from Hampton College, by a young man with a gun.

Rev. Glenn and Marsha have lived and worked for years in Pittsburgh - and have been particularly devoted to improving the lives of young people in their Hill District community. They have founded the Center that CARES  in their neighborhood. The Center that CARES provides tutoring, mentoring, advising, and travel experiences that support and broaden the lives of young people from kindergarten through young adulthood.

How did this extraordinary couple respond to their devastating loss? In typical fashion, they have recently launched a public campaign that urges young people to stay away from guns. The campaign is called "G" Stands for Never Touch a Gun - named after Jeron who was fondly called G. Look for billboards across Pittsburgh with pictures of Jeron. And take some time to view the WQED documentary about Jeron and his parents' work.

Sustainable health and well-being often involves conservation and protection of the natural world - and it also very much involves conservation and protection of the social environment. A healthy community provides safety for its residents, love and education of its young people, and caring among neighbors in hard times, in addition to food and shelter. It provides these supports in ways that can be sustained over the long term, across generations. Marsha, an attorney and a student in Chatham's MS in Counseling Psychology program, and Rev. Glenn, pastor of the Wesley Center AME Zion Church in the Hill District, make significant contributions to the sustainable health and well-being of their neighborhood, Pittsburgh, and beyond. 

The work of Marsha and Rev. Glenn is very important - and it is work that each of us can do in our own way, in our own corner of the world. Think about how you might add to the sustainable health and well-being of your community. Look around for other individuals or groups that you might connect with to do great things. And let us know what you do.

The British Petroleum oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico occurred one year ago. Or I should say - began one year ago. The spill stretched over weeks, and the devastation to animals, plants, water, and human well-being continues to this day. And the spill tragically affected a region that was barely recovering from Hurricane Katrina - a region with "a history of health disparities, environmental-justice concerns, recurrent impacts of natural disasters, and poor health metrics" (NEJM, 2011). 

I was at the Hibiscus Bed and Breakfast in Grayton Beach, Florida just a few weeks after the spill, and witnessed first hand how this event hurt the communities. I saw sadness, fear, and anger, and heard worries about how the region could economically survive the assault on its primary sources of income - tourism and recreation. Each day, citizens walked the beach to monitor the status of the water and shore, and reported back to community leaders who were making difficult decisions about how to respond.

What is the situation today? Research cited recently in the New England Journal of Medicine indicates that, while the long-term effects of the oil spill on physical health of the human residents of the Gulf Coast are uncertain, there is clear evidence of negative effects on the residents' economic, mental, and social well-being. There is also clear evidence from a variety of sources that the damage to the region's ecosystems is vast. 

Also in the last year - floods, droughts, AND wildfires in Australia, the earthquake-tsunami-nuclear plant disaster in Japan, and floods and landslides following a cyclone in New Zealand - all related to natural disasters and extreme weather. Topic for another day - how has climate change and global warming affected the frequency and severity of extreme weather events? There is a connection. More directly related to human choice - ongoing mountain-top removal and related air and water contamination - and negative health outcomes - in West Virginia. These are just a few of thousands of environmental situations and events that put health and well-being at risk.

What rays of hope have we seen in the last year? I look for rays of hope each day when I read the news, and I do find them, midst the darkness. What shines most brightly for me are reports of the voices and actions of ordinary citizens and a few government agencies in protest against destruction to the environment and in support of healing and protection of the earth. There are many many examples of this - here are just a few:

• Possible contamination of water by drilling for natural gas is a BIG issue in western PA -- and just last Tuesday in Pittsburgh, over 700 citizens turned out for a public forum to discuss the Marcellus Shale project - both to educate themselves and to speak their concerns. That is 700!
• In related news, the PA Department of Environmental Protection asked the state's natural gas drillers to stop delivering contaminated water to water treatment plants, setting a May 19 deadline - don't know yet what will happen if the drillers don't comply, but it is a start.
• Activists in Chicago occupied a local coal plant, protesting its pollution of nearby residences, restaurants, shops, and schools.
• In West Virginia, a march on Blair Mountain is planned for June 5-11, 2011, to demand an end to coal-mining via mountain-top removal, a strengthening of labor rights, and a transition to a sustainable economy.

I could cite many, many more rays of hope. Scan your local paper and another paper like the NY Times each day - buried under the heavy news about corporate influence of government, extreme weather events, and the spread of radioactive substances from the earthquake-tsunami area to places thousands of miles away, you will see glimmers of courage and strength. And when you read or hear about something that makes you angry - that threatens the well-being of your children, go right to the Resources page and let someone who has power in the government know how you feel and what you want. Teach your children to do the same.

We ordinary citizens are beginning to really understand that everything is connected, that damage to the earth affects human health and well-being in addition to the ecosystem, and that humans can make better choices in the interests of our grandchildren's futures. 

 

What is a rain barrel anyway? I remember hearing when I was a child that washing your hair with rain water from a rain barrel made your hair extra soft! And also that rain water was especially good for plants.

But why the big rain barrel movement in the last couple of decades? How does collecting rain water actually benefit a community?

Much of the information that follows is from the Nine Mile Run Watershed Association web-site. From what I understand, collecting rain water from the roof into rain barrels prevents our waterway systems from becoming over-flooded with storm water. Heavy rains can lead to erosion in particular areas, and can also lead to pollution of land and waters - running storm waters can pick up debri, litter, junk, and can also merge with sewage. When heavy rains come and flow through our down spouts and on our streets, the systems that we have to manage water get all backed up and mixed up together, and polluted waters result. Collecting rain water in barrels or in rain gardens on your property allows a "capture" of the water so that it can either be used for other purposes or can seep back into your own land to feed plants.

When he was instructing us about rain barrel installation, Luke Stamper from the NMRWA described how the health of community water systems can be significantly improved when many residents use rain barrels. For example, if one rain barrel holds up to 100 gallons (low estimate), and each house has two rain barrels (that would be 200 gallons per residence), and 400 homes have two rain barrels -- that is 80,000 gallons of water that can be kept out of the waterways and used for better purposes - and that is just a one-time computation. That's a lot of water!

As I mentioned earlier, I have two rain barrels that are not yet connected. Luke offered to help me connect them. I might also paint them - like the one pictured above!

I don't have a water faucet on one side of my house, but do have a need for water on that side for plants and the bird bath. Luke mentioned connecting the two together for use on that one side of the house. Double-duty!

It feels good to work on this and to think about doing a small part for my playmates, both known and unknown, who live with me in my neighborhood. It feels good to play a part in keeping Frick Park and the Nine Mile Run a little cleaner. And this might even lower my water bill!

The car trips to visit our grandparents were long. There were no highways between Lexington, KY and Harlan County. There were just winding twist-backy narrow roads. Making these trips with five children must have been challenging for our parents. My mother used to sing to us on these long trips - "I'm gonna buy myself a paper doll to call my own - a doll that other fellas cannot steal" and "On top of Old Smoky all covered with snow" and "She'll be comin' around the mountain when she comes" - and one of my favorites...

Oh PLAYMATE, come out and play with me 
And bring your dollies three. 
Climb up my apple tree, 
Look down my rain barrel 
Slide down my cellar door 
And we'll be jolly friends forever more. (by Saxie Dowell, 1940)

I had no idea what a cellar door was, much less a rain barrel! But now I know. My little house came with two rain barrels which have yet to be hooked up. Yesterday, I went to the first work day for the Hazelwood Food Forest to start spring clean-up and to see a demonstration of installation of a rain barrel. What fun!

The picture above shows Luke and Matt celebrating the successful hook-up (following a not-so-successful one). The project definitely required ideas and labor from the small community of workers - many of whom did not know each other before yesterday.

The Hazelwood Food Forest is a project that was developed by some graduates of Slippery Rock University's programs for sustainability and environmental education. It is located in Hazelwood, a community that is almost a food desert with no easily accessible full-service grocery stores. Michelle C. and Juliette are leasing an urban lot (or four contiguous lots, I think) from the URA. The project depends upon volunteers from within and outside of the Hazelwood community. There are work days on alternate Saturdays (next one is April 16).

I have volunteered there a couple of times. I know very little about this kind of gardening, but I love the idea of working with a group of people on an outdoor project like this that has the potential of benefiting an entire community. I love the learning that happens - yesterday, for example, I learned what "flange" means and saw it in action! I love showing up, not expecting to see anyone I know, and joining with these strangers toward a common purpose. 

Yesterday, I met Michelle and her father - Michelle is a high school senior who plans to study environmental engineering when she goes off to college next year. Michelle's dad (John, I think) built the platform for the rain barrel from old bricks left over from demolition of the condemned row houses that once stood on the lot - I wonder what stories are embedded in those bricks. 

I met Jane and Jim, who recently moved to Edgewood. I met Luke who works for the Nine Mile Run Watershed Organization - he supplied the graffiti-ed rain barrel and described how to do the installation. I watched Matt scavenge wire for the rain barrel installation. I talked with Michelle C., one of the creators of the forest, and heard about how her seven-month old son loves being outdoors with her while she is gardening in her Lawrenceville yard. Juliette, the other initiator of the project, is coming to my class on Psychologists in Communities and Organizations next week to talk about her work - and some of Chatham's Food Studies students are working with the project to figure out how to involve community members more actively in the planning and implementation of the work.

I hope to get to know all of these people, and more, as the project moves ahead. This is a community. One of the things that we know from psychological research is that a sense of community is one of the most important predictors of happiness and well-being. 

This calls to mind many of the communities that have been important to me over the years - my book club, the people at the Square Cafe, my friends at Chatham, my fellow youth group leaders at Sunnyhill, the moms and teachers at Julie's preschool Mushroom Family Learning Center, another group of moms - Phase II, all the way back to my graduate school cohort and the marching band in high school. When I am with these people, I can be myself, and know that I am appreciated for who I am. I can receive and give support. I can laugh and cry.

Question of the week - what are your communities? Who are your "playmates"? These could even be "virtual communities" - an on-line support group for parents of children with autism - or they could be very select - feminist birdwatchers who knit, for example. My brother, Ray, has an urban farm in Louisville, KY (more about this later) - when I visit him, I see neighbors stop by with their children and grandchildren to see the rabbits and chickens, to receive a plant from him, and to take home some compost tea for their own gardens. Share with us what your communities are and why you love them...