WORKS.

a new series

This is a difficult series for me to start, because there is no end or beginning.

So let me start by saying none of this is about me; it is about what encompasses me. Works is the name given to this farmstead early in my stewardship here and will remain so. Works is the reason for Strange and Unusual Places and provides everything needed to implement. It is my safe place, my sustenance, my survival-my world.

Works allows me to legitimately talk about farms and farming because it is a farmstead and has been one for the better part of two hundred years. The writer is only its’ temporary steward. This farmstead was working before the invention of the cotton gin, early in the industrial revolution and still in the iron age.

The farmstead is unapologetic as are its’ works and will remain so. Its’ works span a period of American history; it is not the first or only farm as farms and farming span all of our histories.

Because we here are American, this series is about The American Farm and Works.

Happiness is a permanent state, mostly imaginary; moments of joy are attainable and should be allowed in the work, so this can be unlimited and unapologetic. Work is work.

Country Wit and Wisdom

Anyone seeing my farm will ask “what kind of farming is this?” A question that comes up a lot, even by my neighbors, who are farmers. Finally, it occurs to me that this is a rhetorical question, and the only answer must be “take a closer look”. That is generally followed by a lengthy argument and ends with “my farm-my choice”. But this is common among farmers and a time-honored tradition. See, it really comes down to boundaries.

A Week at Works

Outreach is a large part of Works and we have a well-deserved history of it. This is outreach, neighbor helping neighbor.

Farmers know that hairbrained ideas sometimes work, mostly not so much, but sometimes sort of. This week, between splitting wood, starting cooking and heating fires (tending them), feeding the livestock (not much of it, but includes me), cleaning up (like a slob), guarding the perimeters and all the other daily activities while trolling the web for parts in the inter-abyss…

Enter “Caged Ladies”

A web site for incarcerated women.

Now, the writer is a man and unapologetic (born one, named one and will remain one), a farmer and at this point devoted bachelor. But like all of us continually berated by mass media and information technology. We are allowed to feel violated if violation is the intent. Caged Ladies popped up in an unwanted ad, so before casting aspersions hear me out: all my blockers are activated, and illicit material is forbidden on my hardware, yet the monster of our own invention has ferreted me out and reads my mind-seems to know me better than my dog. Who can blame me for looking?

In this portal are photos and profiles of women in prisons all over America, along with whatever contact information available to them, which is limited and strictly controlled by The Corrections Department of the United States, a nationwide Pen Pals program.

Seems OK, what could go wrong? Afterall, truth be known living a life like a celibate monk cloistered on my farm is not without its’ downside. Not to mention that even the implication of being a man and attracted to women could get me locked up or de-personed in open society today. These are women eagerly seeking attention, at a safe distance and sanctioned by the government!

They also push the limits of what might be considered appropriate content in their bid to lure unwitting males (and females) using all of their assets, which are probably largely responsible for getting them where they are. That doesn’t change the fact that many of them are quite beautiful young women, even stunning and clever as well. It doesn’t change the fact that many of them show the results of a world infected with debauchery, or the fact that by all appearance not all of them are even women.

So being the anxious overachiever we rose to the occasion and responded by choosing one of these women, because that’s how we roll-outreach.

Photo by Persnickety Prints on Unsplash

Not until after crafting a handwritten letter, doing my level best to steer content toward farming and agriculture as a means of security and away from anything remotely suggestive, subversive, conspiratorial or criminal, safeguarding against anything that might be construed as contraband, including required identifiers for myself and said inmate on each and every piece of evidence, mailing Express and tracking it to its’ destination-do the harsh realities begin to emerge.

But harsh realities are the essence of farming, it’s the work that counts. These are attractive young women taken hold of by their worlds and their consequences-at least they appear so-until you see the mug shots. What happens to these women after the violence, drugs and prostitution is sobering and outside of my wheelhouse to comprehend-a tragedy worthy of tears.

Worse yet is the reality of farming them out as a commodity by a gargantuan private penal industry disguising itself as benevolent toward offenders and society. Profit is the thing that comes to mind while discovering that communicating with them comes at a cost: for text, mail, packages, publications etc., all of which are in many cases jobbed out to privately owned and operated concerns and includes opening, inspecting, scanning, censoring and reporting. Even the websites are hosted by outside contractors, regulated by The Corrections Dept., and funded by it with taxpayer dollars, all the while portraying encouragement. This is prostitution by any definition.

All of that is not made better by the fact that the mere mention of farming in connection with incarcerated persons leaves me exposed to being accused of racism, slavery, homophobia, privilege and a host of derogatory terms bandied about by the media whores and social engineers.

So much for well-meaning effort. Seems a good time to check my impulses.

In the soil beneath

The wobbly masses who decide to put their efforts toward the mitigation of binary systems are wasting their time; time better spent in good works. A denial of fundamental forces of nature is the path to extinction. Farmers know this, at least some. It has been my pleasure to inhabit these portals and recreate in the realms of hocus pocus with you. It is my obligation to confront when appropriate if the goals include honesty and integrity.

Despite all the white shaming and progressive ideology, even NPR is populated with stories of good outcomes for inmates and agriculture. Regeneration is in the vocabulary.

Might not be a bad idea to talk farming and agriculture as a means of reentry into society, a way that offers peace and security, especially for women. Are they innocent? That is already settled, and our presumption is mute in their case. But agriculture is the key to humanities long term prospects and regeneration involves all of us. As for the men in corrections: our impulses are largely to blame for the predicament our women are in, and it lies with us to correct that.

Activism

Look it up. Come to the realization that words have more than one meaning; this one includes action and is something farmers make use of. Turns out survivors make good farmers and surviving requires action. The harsh realities demand it. They also nurture and defend. That is because in all of history, all around the world-farmers are the first to be marginalized and the last to be credited.

Meanwhile

A second letter is already written, sealed and ready to post. Maybe that’s just a bad idea. What’s your idea?