A Literary Tour of Surya Nagar Farm

Surya Nagar is Sanskrit for “House of the Sun.” This is an appropriate name for this few acre farm and home to Lonnie Gamble, his wife, their newly-born son, and another super-friendly couple who live there during the growing season. Powered solely on sun and wind power, my time at Surya Nagar was my first experience with off-the-grid living. Since the wind turbine was down for repairs during our three week stay, all our power came from the energy absorbed from the sun by a large array of solar panels. I am not very technologically-savvy, but, luckily, we were blessed by the presence and knowledge of Josh, student of mechanical engineering living on the farm in return for working on solar panels and the rotors of the broken wind-turbine. I quickly became accustomed to using the sun’s energy when it was available (in other words, during the day), but I made a few mistakes during the first few days. For instance, I was so excited to have access to a freezer the first night, that, without thinking, I plugged in the freezer in the intern kitchen without telling or asking any one. It quickly sucked out enough energy from the batteries that it depleted the energy storage to a level lower than desired. (Capturing solar energy requires only a solar panel, but to store it for more long-term use when the sun is not shining, batteries can be used. To prolong the life of such batteries, it is common practice to fully charge them, and then deplete them to only about 50% before recharging. This saves the energy user money, as well as decreasing the amount of battery corpses chucked into landfills.) I soon learned that a bucket filled with cool water set outside at night makes a perfect substitute for a freezer or refrigerator. To further conserve battery life, I learned to think ahead when using major appliances or electronics such as a computer or television. I checked my email and watched some of Lonnie’s permaculture movies during the day when the sun was bright.

Adjusting to life on Surya Nagar was not difficult; it simply required a small amount of forethought and the willingness to alter one’s habits. As I learned how my actions were impacting the surrounding environment, I was only too willing to do things the permaculture way. For instance, instead of cooking meals in the gas-powered oven, with a little planning, I would chop up vegetables for ratatouille and place them in the solar-cooker. This simple machine uses mirrors and the greenhouse effect to trap heat in a satellite-shaped contraption with a plastic lid. When aimed at the sun, it gets warm enough to cook eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, and garlic into tender morsels of deliciousness. Planning meals became quite fun, because it was an adventure to learn how to use what was in season on the farm. However, this meant that one did not go out to the store to satisfy every little craving. But, who would grave a frozen dinner when one can pick fresh okra and eat it with a salad made from greens and tomatoes picked minutes ago?

While at Lonnie’s, we slept in the loft of his barn, used the newly-constructed composting out-houses, and used a black bag to warm water for showers. Except when cooking, we spent our waking hours outside. Surya Nagar was a nice transition back into living in a stationary home after calling home to a different state each night. I was actually excited to use the outhouse, as I knew that my waste was going to be used to increase the fertility of this land on which I was living. According to permaculture, and common sense, all waste is really an unused resource. Why is this society so afraid of dealing with our physical waste? Very little is actually garbage. In fact, if you have enough creativity, you can completely delete this concept from your mental vocabulary. As well as recycling our human waste, we composted all food scraps and recycled this back into the ground as well. What was unusable one year nourished the food that would be consumed in the next year. This is a beautifully simply cycle.

A bit on the physical design of Surya Nagar: The intern kitchen, the barn, and Lonnie’s home were constructed from hay bales covered in plaster. This inexpensive building material is multi-purpose. It serves as the structure of the home as well as the insulation. Windows were used strategically in these buildings to take advantage of passive solar heating. Placed in certain angles, a window can block intense summer heat, maintaining a cool indoor temperature, while also allowing passage of the winter sun in order to heat the home. This reduced heating and cooling bills for the home owner. Outside, garden space was arranged around homes in order to maximize the efficiency in harvesting. For example, herbs used in daily cooking were located right outside Valerie’s door, while nuts trees producing an annual crop, were planted on the edge of the property. Finally, for domestic water, the Gambles utilized a constructed pond and rainwater catchments. A solar-powered pump moved water from the pond to showers and a cistern in the greenhouse for irrigation. The gutters on building rooftops moved water to the cistern as well.

Overall, Surya Nagar was an amazing example of self-sufficient living. Granted, Lonnie had an outside job, which made possible the on-site projects. However, it was a good starting point for me in order to critically examine the next communities I was to visit, as well as the community I have dreams of creating, one day in the future.

Faifield, Iowa: An Oasis Amists a Monocultural Desert

What a contrast between Muscatine and our next destination! We planned to reach Abundance Ecovillage and Surya Nagar Farm by the evening, located in Fairfield, Iowa. Well, we made it there, and made an extra friend along the way.

Since we departed from the Adventure Cycling route in Muscatine to go south, we used Map Quest to trace a route to Fairfield. Big mistake! Even by selecting "shortest route" and "avoid highways," this service is designed for those traveling by car. Not 5 miles into our trip did we realize that it would be a miserable 80 miles to Fairfield. We were on a heavily traveled road, fighting the headwind while attempting to bike a straight line between tractor trailer trucks on our left and the rumble strips on our right. We found a cute roadside produce stand and pulled over to use the restroom and ask for an alternate route. What we did not expect was for the farmer/owner to sit us down, crack open a juicy watermelon picked from the surrounding fields, and chat for an hour about the evolution of farming in the state. He just could not compete with the grocery stores which receive produce from different sites across the U.S. and the world depending on when it is in season. In addition, although he tried selling heirloom varieties of squash, melons, and tomatoes, he commented that consumers are accustomed to the uniformity of mass produced hybrid varieties. When a shopper spots an unsightly bump, they perceive the entire vegetable or fruit as undesirable. This is unfortunate, because I have found that heirloom varieties, which are open pollinated varieties cultivated from saved seeds for at least the last 50 years, taste bolder and come in many more combinations pleasing to the eyes.

This farmer was a pleasant man, but I sensed his deep frustration behind his willingness to share his life story with two young travelers willing to listen, as the watermelon juice dripped down our faces. A few years prior, he invested in a gas station/diner on the side of the road. But, the loans were too much for this budding entrepreneur to pay back, and so the bank reclaimed the property. Now the building sits empty in the lot next to his produce stand. He seemed like a man simply trying to earn a living so that he could support his children and wife and enjoy some free time as well. A businessman-turned farmer, he had a good sense of the market pressures surrounding a farmer who sells his produce instead of focusing solely on self-sufficient food production. Despite this knowledge, however, he was unable to compete with "the big guy" down the road.

Looking for a bit of excitement in his routine, instead of writing down directions, he offered to load our bikes in the back of his truck and drive us the rest of the way to Fairfield. Thanks to our travel angels (was it just luck that landed us in these situations? I have a hard time believing this....), what would have been an all-day bike ride transformed into an hour tour from the farmer's point of view. We were able to ask John, our new farmer friend, about the large hog confinement farms, a landmark in Iowa. This is how it works: companies such as Purdue rent space from farmers to raise company-owned hogs, which are force fed in their own filth until they weigh enough for slaughter. These poor creatures must inhale the same rank odor that cause neighbors to complain to nearby farmers. This confinement is used simply for efficiency's sake, so that American's may eat a few strips of bacon everyday with breakfast. These animals never see the light of day; they are born in a barn until fattened, loaded onto a truck, and dumped off at the slaughter house. The farmers suffer in this system, as well. The meat processing companies may decide to move their contracts at a moment's notice, leaving the farmer to pay the expenses of an empty hog barn. In most states, there no longer exist any independent slaughter houses. This means that if a farmer wanted to raise his own hogs or other meat animal, he or she would not be able to slaughter the animal in a manner approved for sale of the meat. In other words, hog farmers must go through the agribusiness or not at all. Meat raised in such a fashion, without respect, is no meat that I would like to eat.

Anyway, an hour later, John dropped us off on the campus of the Maharishi School of Management. Suddenly, we found ourselves surrounded by two gold-plated meditation domes. Before us rose into the air a proud, nonfunctional brick tower encrypted with the words "Tower of Invincibility." It is thanks to this college, founded in the 70s by Maharishi, the same man with whom the Beatles passed many a meditation hour, that Fairfield became the cultural fusion that we found it in mid-September. Immediately confused, because the meditation domes reminded us so much of the Matrimandir in Auroville, India (www.auroville.org), we set off to find Surya Nagar Farm and the Abundance Ecovillage. Surya Nagar is located another mile or so down the road from this budding ecovillage. The community at Abundance was a bit disappointing; although equipped with communal solar panels, many of the homes are still in their construction stage, and there seemed to be little on-site interaction between those who lived there. However, a few community members had started a CSA program on site, and another man whom we were to meet later has started building a tree nursery on site as well.

Surya Nagar, however, was where we found the most excitement. Home to Lonnie Gamble and his wife and two month old son, as well as another wonderful couple, this farm was so welcoming that Gautier and I stayed for three weeks. The weather was so pleasant while we visited; only a few cold nights reminded me of the coming cold winds that would transform this prairie land into a frozen tundra. Otherwise, I danced around in a skirt I bought for $3 at a local thrift store, relishing the opportunity to be out of biking clothes. In exchange for helping with landscaping work and little farming chores, we received a warm, dry place to sleep in their loft, indoor kitchen space, and all the veggies we could eat. Downtown Fairfield had the best (if not most expensive) health food store, from where we purchased ingredients to concoct delicious meals, including portabella risotto, humus, and pesto. Not in Fairfield 24 hours, Lonnie had called up a friend and got us a job working in a 2 acre organic greenhouse. Now we had an income to replace some of our trip’s expenses.

During the three weeks at Lonnie house, we were able to connect with so many amazing people doing incredible projects. We visited a local organic dairy farm. The farmer, an ex-soil scientist for the USDA, practiced rotational grazing so that his fields were diverse and healthy, and his 80 jersey cows were happy milk producers. He sold his milk, cream, butter, cheese, and yogurt to the university as well as local grocery store chains. He was friendly and knowledgeable, and we had fun riding around in his golf cart while he gave us a tour of the farm. We also befriended two intelligent and creative young guys, named Josh and Brian. Brian lived down town in a house full of people. His home was like a jungle amidst concrete; he and his housemates were in the process of converting their yard into an urban permaculture Eden. Josh heard of Fairfield after his brother attended Lonnie’s summer permaculture design course, and was now doing odd construction, landscaping, and mechanical jobs in town.

We also met a fellow tourist, who, when passing through Fairfield during a north to south ride, liked the town’s atmosphere so much that he came back for good. We were able to catch a ride with him to Missouri to visit another ecovillage, called Dancing Rabbit, during their 10^th anniversary open house. Located in the same town was a communal farm called Sandhill. While Dancing Rabbit, founded by a group of 10 Stanford graduates, utilized many ‘sustainable technologies’ such as solar panels and windmills, the community itself seemed, to me, a bit haphazard. For example, new members constructed their homes wherever they could arrange a land rental. In this manner, homes did not blend well into the scenery; there seemed to be no greater vision for how people would live together in such a space. The land seemed dry and exposed. A few members had gardens, but there was no community-wide effort to grow food. There were several eating co-ops where members shared cooking and financial responsibilities, but the organization seemed super complicated. If I lived in such a community, I would want to live in a space which seemed natural, where people came together for meals naturally, not by membership only.

However, Sandhill Farm was quite the opposite. This farm was not a random collection of people; the long-term members seemed like a family, and interns worked hard helping to cultivate gardens for home consumption and larger crops of soybean and sorghum for the production of tempeh and sorghum syrup (an ‘old-timer’ sugar substitute). What differed most about Sandhill in comparison to Dancing Rabbit was that the former community’s main goal was to feed those who lived on the land. Some value-added products were produced to supplement the income needed to maintain the community, but folks did not have outside jobs. I believe it was this fact which made Sandhill appear so cohesive to the outsider. At Dancing Rabbit, it was up to the individual to scratch out a livelihood. On the other hand, at Sandhill Farm, the community thrived or failed together.

While at Fairfield, we were fortunate enough to observe many different types of communities. My time there provided me with an opportunity to research the aspects of community that I valued. Slowly, I am putting together a vision for a community that I would like to live in one day, whether in existence already or one I help to create. After biking so many miles and learning what, to me, are the bare essentials in life (tasty and fresh food, a warm place to sleep, and an occasional shower), I have come to the conclusion that my life does not need to be spent earning money. I can use my energy, as I did to travel 1,300 miles, to grow the food I need to eat, capture the water I need for drinking and hygiene, and build my own shelter. That takes care of my needs, but now the largest challenge is, how to I attract people with similar desires in order to build the community which I have also identified as a basic need? I cannot build a community on my own.

Musky Muscatine

It took only 2 days to bike through the narrow state of Illinois. Early in the afternoon on day two, we reached the Mississippi River. I had never seen this river before. I considered it one of the major landmarks on the bike trip, eagerly anticipated since we left Vermont. On the Eastern shore were flat lines of corn and soy stretching as far as the eye could see. Although I had seen these crops so many times before, the fertile river valley conjured beauty previously unconsidered. Since it was so flat, we could pick up and maintain a swift speed on the bike, maxing out at 17 or 18 miles and hour for me, and probably 20 miles per hour for Gautier, who raced ahead of me. I hesitated a few times because the scenery beyond the road tempted me to pull over onto the narrow shoulder to snap a picture or two. Every time I did this, I lost some speed, but the view was just so overwhelming! I was torn between reaching the great river and soaking up the sights hiding her flow. We continued on until the bridge marking the name of the river rose above the road. We maneuvered carefully over the bridge, as the cars had no concern for a pair of bicyclists overloaded with panniers and camping gear, but we paused nonetheless at the top of the bridge to view the river.

Below us was a half-mile wide muddy stream; hardly the roaring rush I imagined from reading Twain novels. No, this river seemed tamed, poisoned, weakened. As the cars rushed by on the bridge, I wondered if anyone who lived in the area ever paused to consider the history of this river, and their fortune to have such a great potential lifeforce in their neighborhood. As we finished the crossing and entered Muscatine, Iowa, we saw that this industrial city definitely used the river, but most likely did not appreciate it. There was a boat yard and a lock system for transportation. Most of the barges which ride up and down the river deliver coal and other fuel to riverside factories or transport their raw and finished products. Monsanto's presence was felt in the town in the form of a chemical fertilizer processing plant. There were also factories for the manufacture of office-bound furnishings and corn-derived rubbing alcohol. So, the largest contributors to the Muscatine economy were products for exportation; no goods produced in the town seemed to benefit the people of the town. What Muscatine did receive, however, was industrial pollution carelessly released into the river or atmosphere.

Gautier and I spent the night in Muscatine. We wanted to spend the afternoon lounging in the warm sun on the banks of the river, but when we explored the small city, the atmosphere did not temp us. It smelled bad in town, not to mention that all river front was already claimed by factories and boat launches. So, we spent the afternoon in the library. (Tangent: public libraries have been an amazing resource on this trip. They are a free, welcoming source of bathrooms, internet, comfortable chairs, and a dry place to warm up.) We could not find any campgrounds within a reasonable biking distance, so we called all the hotels in town to find the cheapest available room. As I crossed off the fancier options for anywhere from $90 to $110 per night, we settled on a room at the "Muscky Motel." The librarian who gave us directions to the hotel joked that this was a place where crackheads rented rooms indefinitely, but it was all we needed for one night. In fact, Gautier and I each had a full size bed to sleep on! What luxury! We did not quite know what to do with the television set suspended from a frame in one corner of the room. After a half-assed attempt to find a suitable visual distraction, we gave up and settled on the silence of the room.

We woke early the next morning in order to attend a free lunch at a local church (we learned of this from the same library the previous day). When you are on a budget, you take advantage of any offer of free food. It was not the best food to prepare us for a day of biking, but we gained a wealth of knowledge by speaking with the people who attended the breakfast. The 'church' was really a rehabilitated building on a main street, the basement of which held a kitchen and community space. The upper floor housed a women's support organization, also sponsored by the church. So eager to get in line for food, we arrived early, and had the time to observe the 'regulars' as well as speak to those who were curious enough to inquire about our loaded bicycles. There was a great mix of people: an older man who openly discussed his unemployment and mental disorders; a quiet teen-aged girl who sulked in the entryway, dressed to repel people and constantly text-messaging through her cellphone; a young couple and their baby in her carriage; a homeless Vietnam War veteran who would linger to chat in between helping the pastor with little chores, going on and on about his opinions about the surrounding church-goers who thought they believed in God but, really, did not "get it"; an alcoholic pregnant woman who warned us about the previous man, stating that he was a thief; a super friendly man whose job it was to make coffee and distribute orange juice. All ages and several shades of color were represented. All of them spoke highly of the new women pastor who was a real "go-getter." She was responsible for these programs and their success, and she was organizing more.

Breakfast consisted of coffee, juice, hard-boiled eggs, white flour toast, and instant gravy of an unappetizing gray color. There was also a toaster and bagels, peanut butter, and jelly. I passed on the gravy but had two eggs. They were not fresh, definitely store bought, sitting on a shelf for who knows how long. I satisfied the rest of my hunger with a bagel and peanut butter, as if I had not consumed enough of these two ingredients during the trip already. Another church member who helped serve breakfast told me that 15 to 50 people came daily. All the food was donated by local supermarket chains, such as the (new to me) HyVee.

Although the food was donated, which allowed people who may not otherwise eat a breakfast to have calories before work, it was all corn syrup and soy bean/flour/lecithen filled bread and super processed toppings. I could not help but notice how many people who came for the free breakfast arrived by car, and how many sat outside smoking cigarettes as they awaited the breakfast call. When the ability to purchase necessities is limited, what IS really necessary? Were these people nursing hurts given to them from society when they pulled in the smoke from that cigarette, when they drank that bottle of alcohol or soda? Who pays for the medications some of them admitted to taking? Why the dependence on such substances? It seems to me that the poorest food, nutritionally, is also the most affordable. It is cheaper to buy processed peanut butter filled with hydrogenated corn and soy oils, or 'soda pop' (as they say west of Ohio) sweetened with high fructose corn syrup, or the 'family size' loaf of white bread which, although claiming to weigh one pound on the excessive packaging, can be compressed into a loaf as long as the length of my hand. Fresh fruits and vegetables are shockingly absent from grocery shelves. When present, they are the most expensively priced items in the store.

Why? Since the industrial processes which grow, transport, grind, process, re-ship, bake, package, and market our 'food' are so widespread in this country and globally, they have access to more capital. So, what would cost a small-scale, local operation much is relatively cheap to a large company which owns not only the food from seed to finished product. This does not take into account government subsidies designed to support larger farms producing those core crops (corn, soy, and wheat, remember?) over the small farmer growing a variety of crops. If you, the farmer, have no interest in selling a large amount of a single crop to a grain elevator operator, who can then sell the grain to the highest bidder, the government is not interested in helping you. This trend moves up the rungs of the latter until it translates as a low price in the grocery store for all processed and packaged goods containing wheat (the carbohydrate for energy), soy (the protein source and binding agent for texture), and corn (the sweetener, hooking our animal instincts designed to search for easily digested sources of food while, conveniently enough for the food seller, quickly raising our blood sugar so that is crashes just as quickly and makes one feel hungry again sooner). So, when vegetables and fruits appear much more expensive than processed foods, it is because the fresh, unprocessed, and more nutritious foods are priced at their 'real' price, while the processed foods are super subsidized.

So, when one has a limited budget for food every week, what does one buy? The most calories for the least cash. Typically, since the cheap food is also the most processed, it can be consumed with the least amount of cooking effort back home. This saves time and fuel for this person, who may also be considering how to pay for heating fuel or a baby sitter. However, this low price at the supermarket is a trick, because there are hidden costs when one buys food lacking nutrition. Obviously, one's health declines, so that their productivity weakens. I need to be in tip-top shape to ride a bike a 70 miles a day, and I ensure this by eating a balanced diet, containing whole or unprocessed grains (barley, oats for oatmeal), a vegetarian protein (lentils or other legume), fruit (usually dried because of transport on the road--but NEVER with preservatives such as sulfur), and quick snacks packed with energy such as GORP with raisins, peanuts, coconut, chocolate, and more oats. How can one function on white bread alone? Their productivity will suffer, and so will their ability to work and earn money. If this poor health continues, one may have to resort to the only medical treatment encouraged in Western society: visiting the medical doctor, who will prescribe expensive medicine to mask the painful symptoms instead of examining the root cause, identify a poor diet, and prescribe a healthier lifestyle. It is a deadly cycle which leads to more rich corporate CEOs and more low-income community members driving to free breakfasts provided by the 'charity' of these corporations.

Reconnections and Reflections

Wow, SEPTEMBER 12? I appologize to all my readers (if there are any left) for such a blank in my journal. This gap is evidence of how fully I have been enjoying my time on the road and in the depths of the alternative U.S. agricultural community. Much has happened for Gautier and I in the last 2 months, and I know that I could never report all of it accurately, but I will update you all on the fun highlights.

Indiana and Illinois flew by. On our way to Illinois we got lost in the maze of roads on the western boarder of Indiana. The simple grid system we had become accustomed to in the flat states of the midwestern U.S. melted at this one point on the map so that we could not take a straight route across the boarder. We were on our way to another Warm Shower contact's home, a nice young man named Paul. But, it was getting close to sunset, and the building winds hinted of the icy night that was to come. If we didn't get to Paul's house soon, we would be forced to set up camp on someone's property, something we did not want. In addition to the freezing temperatures and wind which would have easily ripped my tent stakes from the ground, the last 15 miles of biking through Indiana woods was an advertisement of "no tresspassing," "private property," and "will defend with rifle" signs warning strangers of even stoping for a breather on the side of the road. A few miles from the boarder, we flagged down a man driving a huge white pickup truck who was barrelling down the road which recently transformed into 'blacktop,' the type of pebble-and-tar road surface which road bike tires abhore. After 10 minutes of him explaining the most bike-appropriate route, our faces still wore baffled and tired looks, so he offered to load us and our bikes up and drive us closer to our destination.

It was a quick ride with this stranger, who turned out to be a rough Indianan farmer on his way home from a doctor's appointment in Illinois. As we crossed state boarders and entered Illinios, he directed his comments and answers to our questions to Gautier, and I found myself feeling like a silly little girl because that was exactly how he was treating me. He described to us the agricultural economics of the area as we drove through some of the most varied crops we had seen for weeks. In a matter of minutes, we passed pumpkin patches, rows of cabbage, fields of ornamental flowers, and acres of top grass (the green carpets one rolls out for an instantly green lawn--yes, even these take up our precious resources in this country. Instead of using space and water for food production, we dedicate this energy for manicured lawns. What good is a perfectly trimmed lawn if those inside the associated home have no nutritious food in their stomaches or pantries?) Matter-of-factly, our newly-adopted choiffier told us how this soil is much sandier than the soil in nearby Indiana, and so it must be irrigated by large center pivots, which are elevated irrigation systems supported by wheels which span the length of large fields. In addition, he described the diversity of people in the area: many Latinos (mostly Mexicans and Guatemalans) lived there, permantly or seasonally, working in the fields. Squash and cabbage are more labor-intensive crops because they are too fragile to be machine harvested. Logically enough to him and our goverment, we outsource this undesireable job to those so desperate for work that they leave their family and travel thousands of miles for a dirt-cheap wage. Nearby was also a large African-American population. According to this farmer, we were lucky that we did not ride our bikes through this area, because we would have been robbed, no questions asked. Well, I'm not so sure about that; I thought his comment was a bit presumptuous, but perhaps he knows the area better than I.

Thanks to this man's help, we met Paul and his girlfriend just as the sun's light was leaving the sky for the night. For the first time on the trip, we went out to a restaurant to eat. It was at this little local bar and grill where Gautier finally got a taste of an American classic, the Tenderloin sandwhich. When we left Mike's house in Ohio, we asked him about some traditional American foods. He came up with this meat sandwhich, supposedly the prized possession of Indiana. Well, Gautier did not try one in Indiana, and perhaps that was why he was dissapointed with the result. Basically a pulled pork sandwhich, deepfried and served on a bun, after a long day of biking in headwinds, the meager portions at the restaurant did not satisfy. Perhaps if they had served it with cheese and pickle, as we heard was traditional, it would have been better? I'm still skeptical. I was content with my eggplant parmesean sandwhich and the extra baked potato I ordered to fill the gap in my grumbling stomach.

It was a quick visit with Paul, who shared with us his experiences on the road, particularly his trip with a buddy southwest through the desert to California. Paul, however, does not seem to have much time for long bike trips lately; he is dedicated to his job. Paul reminded me of many people we met along the trip who were super excited about our ambition to plan such a trip and our freedom to carry it out. So many in this country are tied to the life of school, job, or family. I am not suggesting that it is bad to put one's energy into the aforementioned, but if biking is what makes one truly happy, why not go out and do it? Why not make the time, put that job on hold for a moment, and do something for oneself that will enrich life? At first I thought this opinion of mine was just a result of my naivety, my lack of experience in 'the real world.' I, of course, am still a student, and have not even completed my undergraduate education. But, in this society, what comes after college? Grad school? A job to pay back that hefty sum of loans? Hopefully a fullfilling career and the money to support a family? This is expected to satify all. If one is lucky, he or she can accumulate enough vacation time to escape from the monotony of a 9 to 5 existence for a week or two in a location dreamed about for years. But even this week-long get-away is dissatisfying because it was spent at a resort, a pre-packaged existence for Westerners, meant to skim the surface of a new culture and climate, and ingnore the true faces of the people, plants, animals, all organisms, whether those faces are lined with joy or pain. No, it is not my naivety after all. It is my resistance to being forced into a box, one that can be neatly categorized and stacked on the shelves of society so that I do not get in the way of efficiency. (More on this idea in a later blog....the libray is about to close, and I must wrap up this entry.)

So, as we left Paul's home town, our bellies filled and bodies rested, thanks to his hospitality and calm spirit, we biked on, yet again reminded of why we were on this trip in the first place: to find our place in the world. Not a pre-determined career with a fixed rate of raise increase, but a true fit, a way to live in peace while giving back to the Earth which sustained our lives for a short, sweet moment.

On the road between the corn and soy...

If I ever write a book about this adventure, I'm using the above phrase coined by Gautier for the title, because it sums up our travels fairly well. The more I plunge into the center of this country on my bike, the more cropland I fly past, the more train tracks I pass over and tractor-trailer trucks I see, the more I understand how this country functions. We are keeping a record of all the corn and soy seed companies we have noticed, because it seems that for any large-scale farmer buying hybrid or GM seed varieties, they must advertise so by placing a company sign next to the field. In the past two days, this is what we have seen:

DeKalb
corn and soy
Pioneer Johnston, IA
corn and soy, sporting the catchy phrase "technology that yields." http://www.pioneer.com/web/site/portal/ (DuPont company)
straight from the website:
"Pioneer is the world's leading developer and supplier of advanced plant genetics to farmers worldwide. We seek to increase customer productivity, profitability and develop sustainable agricultural systems for people everywhere. Innovative and customer-focused, Pioneer is a leader in the agriculture industry and upholds the highest standards."
Also provides hybrid varieties for alfalfa, canola, sorghum, sunflower, and wheat. Pioneer estimates "that over 80% of our genetics eventually find their way into livestock rations," meaning that these crops are intended for animal feed, not human food.
Golden Harvest corn and soy, with the phrase "take control"
AgriGold corn and soy
Sunrise
Beck Atlanta, IN
corn and soy
LG
DoMark (not sure if this sign was for soybean or for a fungicidal spray) "Don't just fight rust. Domesticate it."
Dairyland Seed corn and soy
Croplan Genetics corn and soy
Great Lakes Seed
DK

Associated with many of these seed company signs were signs advertising a particular herbicide or pesticide as well. I wonder if the farmers are required to display these signs, or if the company simply asks them to do so? Free advertising for the company. The interesting thing is, I know that DuPont and Monsanto are the 2 largest seed sellers in the nation, and we have not yet seen a single sign advertising the two companies. However, we have seen signs advertising "Round-Up Ready" seeds, which is patented by Monsanto. I am on a search for more information concerning these seed companies, including who owns what, how much a farmer must pay for these seeds, the situation concerning advertising these seed brands, etc. What blows my mind is how few options there are for farmers. So few seed companies provide all of the seeds these farmers are allowed to grow. And they do not even have the ability to save seeds from these crops, since they are hybrids and do not pass on the desired traits pumped into them my agribusiness geneticists.

Ah-yai-yai. We passed through a town yesterday called "Independence" Ohio. Is the U.S. truly independent, when we rely on few companies for our food production and foreign countries for the fuel which powers our economy? To me, independence is the ability to provide for myself all that I need to live (food, water, shelter, safety, physical and mental health) by myself. It is not the ability to own a gun or to buy a car at age 16 so that we can drive ourselves all across the country. According to my definition, very few people in this nation can truly call themselves Independent.

Day 16, meet 1,000 miles!

Woohoo! I just had to stop and take a photo when my bike's computer reached a total of 1,000 miles biked on this trip. Unbelievable. I cannot believe that at 20 years old, I am biking across the country. I feel so much older in my experiences. Yet, I still feel like a child, sponge-for-brain, soaking up everything I see and hear along the way.
For all of you faithful readers (I'm not sure if there are any, yet), here is a breakdown of our trip so far:
Day Miles
1 65
2 58.6--crossed into New York!
3 58
4 92.5
5 92
6 0
7 0
8 78
9 81
10 70 bike (30 car, flat tire; needed a lift to nearest bike shop)--crossed into Penn!
11 78--crossed into Ohio!
12 0
13 71
14 77.5
15 93.5--phew, we did this in the flats of Ohio and Indiana, but it was ALL headwind!
16 68

Tonight we are staying at another warm shower's contact in Wabash, Indiana. This is only my second day in this state, but the friendliness of the people in the Mid-west continues to surprise and delight me. This morning, a woman driving a mini-van took her time to pass me so that she could yell a greeting and wave nice a big from her open window: "Good luck! Be safe!" The distraction almost ran me off the road, of course, but nice nonetheless.

Since Gautier and I left Cleveland, it has been all corn and soybean fields all day. Flat, flat, flat riding, which is very nice, but the wind can be killer. It blows in all directions except from behind. Yesterday was frustrating, because we were trying to make it to a free bike shelter in Monroeville, Indiana, which was 93 miles from our starting point in Bowling Green, Ohio. We made it, but only after about 7.5 hours of biking. What my legs put out at 16mph momentum, the wind pushes back to 10 or 9 mph. A rider I met in New York said that she would rather climb hills all day than deal with the headwinds of the mid-West. Now I know what she meant, and I rather agree. But, yesterday was a "windy day," according to the locals of Monroeville. And, oh, what a sweet little town! Bordering Ohio, this little town of about 1,300 people gave us so much. Since the town is on the Adventure Cycling Northern Tier Route, it sees many cyclists from all over the nation and world. As a way to welcome these cyclists, they offer their community building as a free biker's shelter, with a kitchen, cots, warm shower, and facilities for free laundry. Gautier and I met Warren, who opened the doors for us, at 7:30pm, and we wandered right into the town's Lyon's club pot-luck dinner meeting. Starved, Gautier and I lingered around, with unsuccessful attempts to mop up the drool collecting at the corner of our mouths. As the meeting came to an and, Gautier just about pushed me into a corner to get to the spread of food when one man said we could fill our plates to "help them all take less home." Boy, did we help them. Heaps of potato and pasta salad, fresh little cherry tomatoes from some one's garden, baked beans, sloppy joe's for Gautier, and as many desserts as we could fit onto 3 heaping plates. All the cookies and brownies we smuggled from yesterday pretty much fed us all day today. The taste buds on my tongue have burned off from so much sugar. I need a hearty, healthy dinner tonight, even if I will be the one cooking it!

While we stuffed our faces in the community center, we were surrounded by the Lyons' club members, who were very curious to hear our story. Warren and another town official lingered for a while, and we chatted about how the town has changed since it's formation in 1855. Warren, retired in 1990, worked in a car factory outside of town. We saw a Japanese-0wned factory on our ride into town which manufactures car parts like windshield wipers and automatic window motors, and Warren told us of another factory in town. It seems that if you aren't a large farm owner, your only other option for work is at the factory. Many of the older men I tried to talk with continued to lean in their ear, muttering an "eh?" as if they were hard of hearing from years of working around heavy machinery.

We learned how farming has turned large-scale in this region of the country. Warren commented that in the 50s and 60s, a family could make a good living on 80 to 100 acres of farm land, growing everything one needed. The younger town official grew up on a similar farm, growing beef cattle, but left that life at a young age for cars and drag racing. Although he has seen all of the U.S. through his career, he commented that looking back, life on the farm was good. Warren got excited when we mentioned that we want to be self-sufficient farmers, growing everything that we need. He said that "now-a-days, to make it out here, you need to own at least 1,500 acres to farm." 1,500 acres! Wow! Farm auctions are very common in the area, where larger farms buy out the land owned by smaller farmers who just could not make it. The land appreciation is rising so quickly in this area that it is a smart investment move to buy so much farm land, if one can afford it. At a recent farm auction, land went for about $6,000 per acre! But, with all of this land, there is no food self-sufficiency in this little town where everyone knows everyone else's name. We passed two farm stands selling seasonal fruits and veggies (zucchini, sweet peppers, tomatoes, musk melon, pumpkins, squash), but all other farm land is dedicated to growing soy and corn. Most of this is sold for either grain or oil. As Warren worked in a car factory, he knew much about car mechanics, and we talked about ethanol production with all of the corn. Apparently, they are also producing a fuel with soybean oil. An alternative to petroleum fuel, but how will we feed so many people if all of our cropland is used to fuel our cars? I'd rather eat a balanced meal and ride my bike than have a car.

Via Campesina link

Check out the trailer for a tv documentary shown on the public Basque television (ETB). Hopefully the full show will be available soon. This got me thinking about what can be done in this country to help the peasant organizations across the world fighting for food sovereignty. After all, the food choices made in this country so much affect people ability to grow their own food across the world......what can we do in this country? Start growing our own food! Become less depending on imported staples, so that others can worry about feeding themselves instead of fighting back against huge agrobusiness!

Check it out!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2AZ3LdWMCUA

A bit on the Ecovillage at Ithaca

I want to say more on our experience at the ecovillage, especially after the previous, what I consider rather depressing, weblog entry.

The ecovillage was so beautifully inviting that we decided to stay one more day. We toured the city on Sunday, visiting our good friend from India, Megan. The city, as I mentioned before, is proud of it's 'progressive' nature. Ithaca College and Cornell University have just pledged to work towards carbon neutrality, for instance, and there is a great farmer's market in the city multiple days a week. However, while dining at a little Mexican joint we read an article in a local paper talking about a youth media group working to expose the social disparities that still occur within the city. It mentioned how the term 'sustainability' is often only associated with the ecovillage, and not much else is being done within the city to help people with food, clothes, shelter, and water. However, I think it is great that such dialogue occurs in this city, especially coming from the youth.

So, a bit on the ecovillage. It is a community of about 160, mostly adults with about 20 children under 16. Many are home-schooled, and some attend local public and private schools. There are two neighborhoods within the community. The buildings remind me of the the Hampshire College Mods, but with more garden space. There is also a great community building where 3 communal dinners are held per week. Attendance depends on who is cooking, but it ranges from 30 to 70 community members. Some community members work at home, either through consulting, online work, or local pracitice (medical, therapeutic, etc). Many professors live in the ecovillage, and commute to the city on bikes. There is a car share program at the ecovillage, which was recently developed. It is a non-profit organization operated by students and staff of the business department at Ithaca College, and serves not only the ecovillage, but local students and residents. For the price of a membership fee, one can rent a car for an hourly rate (which covers the cost of maintenance, insurance, and gas). Cars can be picked up at convenient places across the city. The city also has a decend public transportation system. It is necessary, though, because Ithaca was built on steep hills, and it is quite a walk up the 2.5 mile hill from the valley which contains the main city to the Ecovillage or two educational institutions situated on the surrounding hills. I would not want to bike that every day.

Gautier and I were welcomed into the home of one community member, Heather, on Saturday night for a delicious dinner. We were also lucky enough to be present on the weekend of the annual "Weed and Feed" event at the Farm. Basically, all the CSA members help weed for a few hours at the farm and enjoy a pasta feast, complete with pesto from basil in the garden, garden-grown steamed veggies, and watermelon. Mmmm-mmmm-mmm! What fun to see so many people of all ages enjoying the fields and the food.

We left on Tuesday morning with a gift of fresh apples from the farm (Thank you, Todd!) and continued through rolling hills to Little Valley, New York that night. It was tough to leave the ecovillage; it already felt like home to me. But, this entire country feels like home.

Day 13

I am forever grateful for the many road angels we have stumbled across along the road. I am writing from the computer of another Warm Showers contact, Mike, who lives in Mentor Ohio. We left the Ithaca Ecovillage on Tuesday morning, and after a week of many miles, we decided to take a day of rest in this home to regroup and rest our weary muscles. Literally as we rode up to Mike's driveway last night, it began to pour. This was the first rain we have seen in 13 days! Everyone I've spoken with in New York and Pennsylvania have commented on how dry the end of the summer has been, but I'm glad we have not yet had to deal with any wet roads. In fact, it has been hotter than expected. Wednesday reached 85 degrees at 2:30pm, and as we pulled into Erie, PA at 7pm Thursday evening, it was still 89 degrees! The entire left side of my body is much darker than my right. Gautier says it "looks like someone has spread Nutella" all over my shoulder. I have decided to title this Thursday as the day of Revenge of Emily's bicycle. I had a total of 4 flats in one day. The first occurred not 6 miles from camp, and we destroyed the connection between the tube and valve stem of my only 2 spare tubes while furiously attempting to inflate them. We were 30 miles from the nearest bike shop located in Jackson, NY (incidentally, the hometown of Lucille Ball), and by 11am, it appeared that we would have to spend another night in Little Valley, NY. But, after a few minutes of 'thumbing it', a sweet woman named Dawn picked us up in her truck and drove us to the bike shop. She rescued a similar couple of bicyclists earlier in the summer.

We spoke a lot about the Amish farmers in the area, and noticed a Cargill tower on the side of the freeway. After talking with Dawn about the local agriculture, we learned that Cargill purchased the plant from Agway 5-8 years prior (no doubt during a large shopping spree of many other seed and agricultural companies). Most of upstate New York consisted of corn field after corn field. There must be more cows in upstate NY as there are people in New York City. I can only imagine how much people food could be produced if this land were not dedicated to pasture and cropland to raise dairy cows. Do we really need to drink so much milk? I saw a sign on a barn which pictured several happy calves telling me to "drink more milk!" Yet, are these calves really happy that we drink what their mothers make for them? I love cheese, and it is difficult for me to give it up from my diet, but even I must admit that it disagrees with my digestive system. Are humans truly meant to drink the milk of another animal, especially after our nursing years? So much agriculture in Vermont and New York depends on the dairy industry, but much of this is subsidized by the government, anyway. However, it will take much change for farmers who have grown up raising cows to switch to vegetables.

It has been difficult for me to stick to the journaling along the trip. I am so tired after 75 miles of biking that all I want to do at the end of the day is set up the tent, cook dinner, and pass out. It has also been tough to stop and interview folks at restaurants and grocery stores. First of all, we are always on a tight schedule, with the intent to quickly run into a store, grab any necessary supplies, and jump back on the bike to make it to our evening's destination. Secondly, the more I see of the country, the more I realize that simply talking to people will not change much. So what if I talk to people in front of a super Wal-Mart and preach about rising fuel prices, higher food cost, the dangers of GMO and highly processed foods, and how it is affecting our global economic and environmental health? After a long day of biking, it is easier to run into the first store we see, buy the first brand of bread (it is sooooo difficult to find even a whole grain bread variety without high fructose corn syrup!), and just eat. Likewise, with sprawling suburbs designed to be navigated by motorized vehicles, it is easier and cheaper for the average U.S. citizen to drive to the nearest super market, whether it be Wal-Mart or Shaw's, and purchase all that one needs in one location. Our entire society has been built around such a fossil-fuel powered economy, and I do not see much changing before oil prices rise to a ridiculous amount or before oil reserves disappear completely.

In fact, we passed through an entire county in upstate NY plastered with pro-Wal-Mart development signs. I have a hard time imagining why anyone would like to see such a store in town, but Gautier reminded me that I am not from this area, and how could I know how people perceive what Wal-Mart will do for their economy. But, do these people really know, either? We have passed so many abandoned mall and plaza lots, with debris-filled parking lots and depressed, empty store windows. After speaking with Mike, who grew up in the home in which he currently lives, I have a better understanding of suburban sprawl. Unlike many people who moved out of Cleveland to towns like Mentor (according to Mike, much of the movement occurred in the 60s when many white people moved out of the city to avoid the increasing African American population), Mike has watched suburbia build up around him. He hates it, describing the town as spoiled by commercialization. The only reason he remains is because it is an easy commute to his job in the city. Plans to build a new Super Wal-Mart, despite the protests of town citizens, will most likely go through because the town is too weak monetarily to fight back a lawsuit from the corporation. How can any small town fight back? Are we doomed to live in sprawling suburbs where there is nothing to do but shop, go to the movies, or go out to eat? I certainly hope not.

There is some hope yet, I think. Despite the acres and acres of grape (which go to Welches', if not to the few local wineries), corn, and soybean fields we have witnessed in the miles across Pennsylvania and Ohio, there have been plentiful roadside veggies stands where one can purchase a yellow squash and zucchini (on the honor system, mind you) for 50 cents. I spoke with a few folks at a roadside produce stand, who at least had some conception of how tastier fresh vegetables can be. One woman was not too concerned about food security, citing the year-round availability of produce grown in tropical countries which can be easily shipped to this country. Another pair of shoppers who moved from Russia 12 years ago appreciated the local produce in the summer, reminiscent of the days when they grew their own, but also mentioned Wal-Mart as a common source of inexpensive food.

After visiting the Ithaca Ecovillage, where their 10 acre CSA farm feeds 1000 people during the growing season, I was full of hope. But, Ithaca is a "progressive" city. (I place progressive in quotations because I am learning that it is an extremely relative term....what really IS progressive? What IS sustainable? A grad student studying the ecovillage, Prudance, made a good point that one can only judge an action to be progressive by looking in the past. One can never know if one is acting progressively in the present.) However, such food production is possible because 160 people have designed their entire living space around the idea of purchasing local products and supporting the local economy. It is much more difficult to infiltrate a town like Mentor with farms and farmer's markets when Wal-Mart already has plans to take over, and where it is easier and safer to drive in a car than to walk or bike. So, as we prepare to bike out of Ohio and into Indiana and Illinois, I hope I do not become completely depressed by the miles of GMO corn fields we are bound to see. I question what one person can do. Is it enough to talk to people? Should I simply set up a sustainable homestead and hope that others will eventually see the light, or should I rabble-rouse until I loose my voice? I hope to find more answers along the way. There are many more miles to go......
Until next time,
Emily and Gautier

The first 5 days...

Phew! Greetings from the Ecovillage at Ithaca! After 5 days, we rode in last evening to this wonderful ecological community of about 160 people. It was a slow start for me, but my body is adjusting to 6+ hours on the bike much more quickly than I expected. We biked 65 miles on day 1, making it to the top of Breadloaf Mountain, near Middlebury Vermont. We were about to pitch our tent in the woods on the mountain when we ran into a group of Middlebury students who invited us to camp down the hill on the Breadloaf Campus. They also fed us a buffet dinner of veggie burgers and lots of cookies. Mmmmm, it was so nice to not have to cook after the first day. I was beat.
The second morning, we met Gautier's father in downtown Middlebury for a quick breakfast and then continued over rolling farmland to Shoreham Vermont, where we crossed Lake Champlain on a small ferry. Day 2 was a hot one, and I just about died on a relentless climb out of Ticonderoga. We completed 58.6 miles and camped out in the woods in Middle of No-Where upstate NY. The lentils, rice, and rehydrated veggie dinner I cooked never tasted better. We were a bit afraid of bears that night, but nothing bothered us.
Day 3, as Gautier's father warned us, was the most difficult. Our muscles were sore and we were still in the Adirondacks, so there were hills to contend with. After another 58 miles, we settled down early at a camp ground on Raquette Lake. This day, we passed a buffalo farm, and I was even tempted to try some meat, if the store had been open for business. In the evening, we cooked over a fire to save some stove fuel, and each enjoyed a hot shower. Ah, I felt like a new person after that shower, with the heat loosening up my tightening muscles.
On day four, we made it out of Adirondack park, and I let out a holler as I looked out over the horizon to see nothing but flat hill tops, and no more steep peaks. We kicked it up a notch and biked 92.5 miles this day, ending near Oneida and camping out on someone's lawn. We wanted to make it all the way to Cazenovia, New York, to a warm showers (www.warmshowers.com) contact, but we were still 25 miles from Cazenovia when I knew my muscles could handle no more. So, we met up with Jeff and Sandy, the warm showers folks, in the late morning on day five. Jeff showed us around town, including Chitenango Falls, Lake Cazenovia, and a quaint Amish farm located on one of the many back roads beyond Cazenovia. We followed route 13 into Ithaca, and enjoyed the steep descent into town, but not the just-as-steep climb back up the other side of the valley to the ecovillage. We saw many dairy farms and corn, soy, and alfalfa fields yesterday. I noticed that many farms had signs next to the fields, advertising the type of corn or alfalfa growing. Both crops were owned by a company called DeKalb, and I found it quite interesting that one company owns both crops. I wonder if the farmers who own these farms pay more for the seeds each year than they receive for selling their milk. During all these miles, I saw only one organic dairy farm, complete with fields labeled with "do not spray" signs, but I wonder how effective such an organic farm is amongst the many Round-Up Ready corn fields. With all the pesticides sprayed on the round-up ready corn and alfalfa, how can the organic farmer guarantee that his milk is in fact clean?
Today Gautier and I get to enjoy a day of rest, touring the ecovillage and getting more food supplies in downtown. I am so ready for the rest and the opportunity to stretch my legs. We met Liz and Jared this morning, who welcomed us into their home and cooked us a huge breakfast of blueberry pancakes. Mmmm. Topped with Vermont maple syrup, it reminded me of home and the pancake breakfast my dad cooked for us on Tuesday morning, the date of our departure. Liz actually grew up in the town next to my home town, attended school at Hampshire college (right next door to Mt. Holyoke and UMass), and helped to found what is now Living Routes. To top it off, Jared knows the farm manager at Evergreen State! What luck. It has been an enjoyable morning talking with Liz and Jared about the organization of the ecovillage. Jared believes that we may be putting ourselves in danger by attempting to cross the Rockies so late in the year, but as our Adventure Cycling route follows the Amtrack route, we can always hop a train to Seattle when it gets super cold.
Well, I would love to write every detail possible, but there is so much to take in today, and I need to do some laundry! Until the next internet connection,
lots of love,
Emily and Gautier

Making preparations

It has been quite a summer. With all the preparations for this bike trip such as mapping out a route, looking for sponsorships, researching site visits, and working at a summer camp to earn money for the ride, these three months have flown by. But, the summer always does.

Luckily, it has been a summer full of delicious food. Such meals slow down time for me, as I surrender to the complex tastes and textures that only a fresh salad can provide. As I type this entry, I am also enjoying a pasta and veggie medley. Most of its ingredients came from 24 miles away, grown on a little farm called the Community School Farm in South Tamworth, New Hampshire. Crisp salad greens, fresh yellow squash, sweet tomatoes, spicy onions, and sharp baby turnips all smile up at my fork. Thrown into the mix are more exciting veggies such as the purple green beans, corn, steamed kale, and yellow cucumbers from last week's share. It has been so rewarding to drive or bike home (depending on convenience throughout the summer) with bags full of fresh veggies, still smiling from my walk through rows of tall flowers and fragrant herbs and the exciting conversations had with Geoff, the farm manager, farm workers, and fellow fresh veggie enthusiasts also picking up their shares. I feel like I'm in a secret club.

Of course, some of the food in my salad was not locally produced. The canned garbonzoes are from who knows where, purchased at a Shaw's supermarket. My pasta is organic, made from whole wheat and flax seed for added nutrition to my vegetarian diet, but it is also not local. Even when I make home-made pasta with eggs from my family's chickens, the semolina flower is not from Vermont. Even for someone trying to make a conscious effort to control the distance her food traveled and how it was produced, it can be difficult to filter everything, particularly when working a full-time job. This is why I want to take a friendly, inquisitive approach to talking to people on the bike trip. I am not out to blame anyone, to make them feel guilty. The reason supermarket chains exist is because they fit so perfectly into our lifesytles in the United States. Or so I think. We'll see......

A Call for Ideas and Support

Retracing our Food Steps in the U.S.
An educational adventure to begin on August 28, 2007

Do you value food security and strong local communities?
Do you wish that there was greater national awareness about:

• Organic food production
• Small scale, family farms
• Biopiracy
• Fossil fuel dependency in the U.S. food production cycle
• Food safety (What IS rBGH? Are GMO foods really safe?)
• Local economies

So do we!!

Please, consider sponsoring Gautier and I as we bike across the country to educate the public, and ourselves, about these issues. As fossil fuels become more scarce and therefore more costly, farmers across the globe will have no other option but to produce food differently. We believe there is no better time to support alternative, sustainable methods of food production in the U.S. than now! This is why we have decided to use our own bodies to power this campaign. We will visit ecovillages and other intentional communities working towards food self-sufficiency, farms practicing sustainable agriculture, and cities, towns, and restaurants to talk to people about their perception of where their food comes from.

Join us by supporting our ride across Vermont, New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa,Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, and Washington! Email Emily at erwheele@mtholyoke.edu or Gautier at ggras@student.umass.edu to learn more, to offer ideas, or to make a contribution. Thank you!