Building "Community": How to Do It?

I posted my previous ramble  about "community" and Newtown to Facebook and a good friend who read the post asked the obvious question: How, precisely, are we to build community? 

Or, as she put it:

I agree with what you are saying but the pragmatist in me asks "how do we do this?" and "what does it look like?" It seems all Americans would agree that we want a safe (safe from internal and external foes) country that cherishes its children and provides a physically, mentally and spiritually good place for them to thrive. But, it seems the trouble begins when we decide how to get there. Someone will demand gun control, someone else will say we have the right to bear arms and protect our families....you get my drift. I guess it boils down to: "how do we put our differences aside to reach a common goal?"

Excellent questions. And here is one answer, specifically related to the "food" activists that I mentioned in that post. (As in my previous post, I'm grossly simplifying all of this to keep it short.) Their idea was to create structures where people could engage and connect, and over time, those structures and interactions would forge "community." They proposed using food, the one thing all all we humans have in common, as a device for linking people to each other and to "place."

Indeed, the idea of "place" was crucial: They started from the idea (which you may or may not agree with) that the food system had become "corporatized" and "globalized." As a result, most Americans didn't know where their food came from, even at the most obvious and direct level. Most Americans, for example, know zero about farmers and farming.

So activists began building an "alternative" food system, one based on regional and local production whenever possible (the idea was to make communities food self-sufficient, to ensure "food security").

The plan was that consumers and farmers would become more connected. People would feel closer to the land and care more about it and about the impact of agriculture on the environment, and become more aware of how and where food is made. In the process, people would feel a stronger sense of "community."

Again, that's a gross simplification of a complicated project. But the main point is this: activists and reformers didn't want to wait for legislation. After all, we can't "legislate" community or civic-mindedness, right? So their view was to start from the ground, no pun intended, and create at the most local level, a sense of connectedness.

It was and is an ambitious project, but it's borne fruit (again, no pun intended): if you buy food from a farmers' market, you're enjoying the benefits of this larger project. If you've decided to support local farmers, or to avoid milk or meat with hormones or from "factory" farms, you're supporting this project.

And --- I'm guessing that you feel ever so slightly more aware of not just your food, but where it comes from. And perhaps more aware, too, of your "community."

So: these community builders were pragmatic. (*1) They couldn't force community down people's throats. But they believed that the world would be a better place if more people felt more connected to each other, and they set out to build structures that would lead to that goal. Hence: various food-related, community-building projects.

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*1: You've never know if from reading some of the papers and essays in which various people worked out this set of ideas. Much of its is freighted in jargon that I want to throw myself out the nearest window. The good news, however, is that the theorists had students who then went out into the real world and started building "community."

Newtown, "Community" Organizers, and History

Let me say at the outset that President Obama's sermon at Newtown last night was astonishing. It's hard to imagine he'll give another speech/sermon as powerful as that. (Here's hoping!) If you missed it, you can see it here in its entirety; this WaPo piece also includes the transcript. But his sermon also set off a long train of thought in this historian's brain, and that's what I'm writing about here. 

Among the "money quotes," these get to the core of his message:

This is our first task, caring for our children. It’s our first job. If we don’t get that right, we don’t get anything right. That’s how, as a society, we will be judged. And by that measure, can we truly say, as a nation, that we’re meeting our obligations? . . . .

Can we say that we’re truly doing enough to give all the children of this country the chance they deserve to live out their lives in happiness and with purpose? I’ve been reflecting on this the last few days, and if we’re honest with ourselves, the answer’s no. We’re not doing enough. And we will have to change. . . .

We will be told that the causes of such violence are complex, and that is true. No single law, no set of laws can eliminate evil from the world or prevent every senseless act of violence in our society, but that can’t be an excuse for inaction. Surely we can do better than this.

He did not mention "gun control" or "politics." Instead, he focused on the conclusion at which so many of us had already arrived during the past few days: It's not guns that kill, or even people. It's a society that has lost its way and is no longer a "community."

As soon as it became apparent that's where he was headed in his sermon, the historian in me sat up straight. Mental light bulbs flashed, etc. So. Here's this historian's take.

Back in 2007, 2008, when Obama ran for president the first time, the Republicans belittled the fact that he'd been a "community organizer." Truth be told, I didn't pay much attention to that particular part of his resume.  I had a mental image of someone chatting with young toughs on street corners, trying to set them straight. Other than that, I didn't give it much thought.

Now, however, my perspective is quite different --- thanks to the research I'm doing for the final chapter of the book I'm writing, which is a history of meat in America. The final chapter examines the origins of the "organic-local-alternative food system." (*1)

That "alternative" food system took shape in the 1980s. A group of activists, reformers, and academics used food as the anchor of an effort to link rural and urban America, and to forge a new "community" in which every member, regardless of race, class, income, or geography, would feel connected enough to care about all the other parts.

I'm simplifying the story (hey! You can read more when the book comes out...) --- but my point is this: In the 1980s and 1990s (and now), "community organizers" like the young Barack Obama were many in number and purpose. But whether the organizers focused on issues of poverty, jobs, hunger, the "family farm," or weaknesses in the nation's food system, a single, larger goal united them: to forge community among Americans.

I would argue, however, that the late-20th-century search for community went beyond "official" community organizers like Obama. That same search fueled the craft beer movement. Homebrewing, to name another example, emerged as a "community" rather than just a hobby. (To which I would add the form of so many web-based businesses: Facebook, Pinterest, etc., as well as the internet and web themselves.)

Again, I'm simplifying (in part because I've not yet worked all this out), but as a historian, I'm convinced there are linkages between and among projects that otherwise appear, on the surface, to be unrelated: farmers' markets, homebrewing, craft beer, Facebook. (*2)

Back to Newtown: When I listened to the president's sermon last night, many of these pieces fell into place.

I see more clearly now what drove Obama's initial run for the presidency. He had a vision, shaped by his young adulthood, of how "community" could transform the United States spiritually, socially, politically. He believed (rightly, I would argue) that millions of Americans shared that view even if they had not articulated it. (*3)

Alas, once elected, that vision ran up against the reality of the American political system and "vision" was set aside in the name of survival. Grousing ensued: "What happened to the guy we elected? Where's our hope and change?" Obama had been forced to weigh the long term benefits of vision against the short-term need to survive.

The irony is that Obama was forced to sacrifice long-term vision for short-term survival precisely because we Americans have so little sense -- none, really -- of community, of common purpose. We've never needed it more --- and yet, it's never been more out of reach.

For the past few days, I've had this odd sense of deja vu, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Last night, as I listened, I found it: The aftermath of Newtown is much like the aftermath of September 11, 2001. Stunned disbelief; near-universal grief; groping for answers.

But it also shares this with that earlier tragedy: It's aroused a powerful undercurrent, a powerful yearning for stronger connections between and among each other. (*4)

We need to change. "We" meaning us as a community. Lack of gun control. How we as a society cope with mental illness. Those aren't causes. Those are symptoms (especially the latter). Symptoms of malaise, of drift, of lack of purpose.

So when President Obama spoke of "community" and the "need for change," he didn't mean "politics." He meant: We can no longer ignore our lack of, loss of, purpose, meaning, community. Only when we face up to the hollowness that is the reality of life in America will we finally see an end to the madness that afflicted the lives of so many Americans on December 14, 2012.

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*1: I knew nothing about any of it (hence the need to do this research), but I'd heard the standard version of "what happened": Alice Waters, the California restaurateur, discovered "local" foods and voila! The local, organic food craze began. Even before I started researching this chapter, I was sure that standard story was wrong, and that some other set of factors had shaped the "alternative" food system we now have. I was right (for a change!).

*2: That's one reason I want to finish this current book and move on to my next: this set of ideas has been floating around in my brain for over a year now. I think I'm on to something.

*3: Although Christian fundamentalism has become mainstream and institutionalized, back in the late 1960s and early 1970s, it spread in large part because so many people were seeking "community."

*4: Before you all go crazy and start sending me hate mail: No, I'm not comparing Newtown to Al Qaeda terrorist attacks. Rather, I'm comparing the emotional, spiritual aftermath: In the midst of intense, shared grief, we've rediscovered a need for community. We reached out, rather than withdrew. In the wake of the terrorist attacks, I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only person who sensed that our collective grief also gave us a sense of community. We found solace by embracing each other in a way we rarely otherwise do.

Tonight.

On September 11, 2001, my husband's daughter --- my "step-daughter" although I rarely use that term; she's my daughter --- happened to be in Ames with us. She'd been in a horrific car accident two months earlier and still hadn't gone home to New York City. At the time, she lived in Brooklyn. During that long day of grief, I knew the solace of her presence. Our other kids (again, ditto: not biological) live in London and I wasn't as "worried" about them. But I wanted them there, too. Right there. In the house. Safe. With us.

Tonight, I want them here. Most especially the youngest member of our tiny tribe, my four-year-old grandson, whom I adore. Such a small boy. So unknowing.

They're not here, of course. They're at home -- in London. In New York City. But I know my grandson's mom (she of  the car accident) is holding him, inhaling him, as is his dada (whom I did not know in 2011).

And tonight I hold them, and all my friends,  that close, if only in my heart.

Pain and evil come in many forms. They're not the same, not always. But however they arrive, whenever they arrive --- they deliver not just grief, but a moment when all of us feel most deeply -- and painfully --- the power of love.

Tonight, love your family and friends. The darkness won't feel so dark.

Kansas City Star "Special Report" On the American Beef Industry

I think the folks at the Kansas City Star are aiming for Pulitzer and I'd say they're contenders. The newspaper is running a special series on the beef industry and it's worth reading. It's worth looking at to enjoy the design of the project, which hits a new high for online newspaper design. Magnificent! You can find the series here. Scroll over each section for stories, graphics, and photo galleries.

Beer People: For You

Seriously. This is only for the die-hards and they know who they are. (Which I was tempted to write in one long string.) This is a worthy read.

Years from now, we'll be looking back at and appreciating Stan and other beer writers as the keepers of the record. Classic case in this particular piece: Stan's not only "commenting," he's also offering up archival material. (*1)

Happy historian here! _________

*1: That's the stuff through which the historian in me lives and breathes. See this if you're curious about how historians do what they do and why I'd say "Go read this piece by Stan!"

In the Kitchen: Spicy Chocolate Cake with Dulce de Leche Glaze

Yes, I enjoy making cakes. Not fancy, double- or triple-layer extravaganzas, but one-bowl, easy cakes. Because who doesn't like cake? (If you don't, well, I'm sorry for you but don't burden me with your woes. Please). This cake is one of the truly terrific recipes from Cake Simple: Recipes for Bundt-Style-Cakes, by Christie Matheson. HIGHLY recommended. (The book.) (And the cake. It's intensely chocolate, but somehow not over-whelmingly rich.)

I've made this several times. Last time, I reduced the amount of chili powder and added a bit of strong coffee to the liquid. Didn't work quite as well as I'd hoped. Not sure how much of it was the lesser amount of heat and how much was the coffee flavor overpowering the heat. Anyway: it's terrific as is. But I'd love to hear about your variants.

CAKE:

• 3/4 c. cocoa powder (the real stuff, not the sweetened stuff for making hot chocolate)
• 1 oz bittersweet chocolate
• 3/4 c. boiling water (this is where I swapped out water about a quarter cup of coffee for same amount of water)
• 1 c. sugar
• 1 c. brown sugar (light or dark)
• 1-3/4 c. flour
• 2 t. baking soda
• 1 t. baking powder
• 3/4 t. salt
• 1 t. cinnamon
• 1/2 t. chile powder (use ancho if you have it, but any "hot" chile will do)
• 1 c. buttermilk
• 2 eggs
• 1 T. vanilla (the real stuff)
• 1/2 c. vegetable oil (corn, canola, whatever)

DULCE de LECHE GLAZE:

• 1/2 c. heavy cream
• 1/2 c. brown sugar (light or dark)
• 1/4 c. condensed milk
• 1/4 t. cinnamon
• 1/8 t. chili powder
• 1/4 t. salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Prepare a bundt pan (10 or 12 cup): rub with butter, and then dust with flour. Tap to ditch the excess flour. The original recipe suggested dusting with melted butter and then cocoa powder. Made a tremendous mess. I went back to my usual butter/flour method.

Put the chocolate in a small, heatproof bowl and pour the boiling water over it. Whisk until the chocolate has melted and the mixture is smooth. Let it cool to room temperature.

Whisk together the two sugars, the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and chili powder. If it seems kind of lumpy, sift it instead. The more "smooth" the dry ingredients, the better the "crumb" (texture) of the cake.

In a mixing bowl (I use a stand mixer) fitted with the whisk attachment (or beaters if that's what you've got), whisk/beat the buttermilk, eggs, vanilla, vegetable oil, and melted chocolate on low speed until thoroughly combined.

Still using low speed, gradually add the dry ingredients and mix/whisk until the dry is incorporated. Increase the speed slightly and mix for another 2 or 3 minutes. Don't over do it! This is the step that determines the cake texture: over-beat or over-mix, and you'll end up with a dry, tough texture.

Pour the batter into the pan, smooth the top, and bake for 40 -45 minutes. (Check at 40. There are few things more disappointing than an over-baked cake.)

Let the cake cool in the pan for 15 or so minutes, then loosen it with a knife and invert on to a plate. Let it cool completely.

When it's cool, glaze.

To make the glaze: In a heavy, but nonreactive, small pan, combine the cream and brown sugar. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring until the sugar has dissolved. (You'll know when that is, because the "grainy" feeling will vanish.) Continue to boil, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes, until the mixture has reduced to about a coup. Stir in the condense milk, and then whisk in the cinnamon, chile powder, and salt. Pour it gently over the cake. NOTE: if you want to avoid a mess on the cake platter, lay pieces of parchment paper around the bottom of the cake. Then just pull those away after you've finished glazing the cake.

Enjoy!