meet Dorothy, superhero

After several weeks in Missouri, we have gone in separate directions. Andy is now sailing down Ihe Nile river, sharing Ramadan with his Egyptian counterparts (and the traditional "Iftar" breaking the fast, at the not-so-traditional KFC!). He will, hopefully post more here in a few days. I have spent the last week crossing America's heartland whose waterways are known only locally - Salt Creek, Frog Creek, Neosho River, Wolf Creek, Cottonwood River.

Disappointingly, we did not manage to convert Magnolia to run on grease, though we did build a back porch for her which will, eventually, hold the grease barrels when we DO convert. Too much got in the way of that plan, but I persevered (with more than a little trepidation) to continue driving west burning dynodiesel (literally burning fuel from the time of the dinosaurs and, needless to say, nonrenewable) to the tune of almost $150/ day. It is expensive and not sustainable by any standards I apply, but we have no other plan - yet.

Driving across Kansas, I found that I was needing some help to navigate the recurring feelings that were getting in the way of getting to the heart and maybe the soul of this place and its people. In Emporia, Kansas I was excited to spot a sign for a farmer's market on Saturday. I grabbed the canvas bag and stopped to get some cash with visions of fresh corn, carrots, maybe some tomatoes dancing in my head. I found a sad little gathering of awnings with corporate logos on them selling plastic luggage made in China, some sort of bottled Thai flavoring that came in 3 heat variations, crackers with cheese from Wisconsin (no samples) and a demonstration of barbecuing ribs and corn. The cops were hanging out there, maybe they expected some radical elements?! How was THIS a farmer's market???? Where are the farmers?

Maybe you can see the trouble I was having keeping away from the "who ARE these people anyway?" I fear that I might have been wearing my provincial Vermont-ey privilege like a teflon body wrap. So what did I do?? Some years ago, while teaching at a camp (oh OK, I'll out myself here - a "witch" camp. If your interest is piqued, check this out: http://www.starhawk.org/) our teaching team did a skit for talent night in which each of us portrayed a different super hero. I was Dorothy (Wizard of Oz fame, of course). I can't remember exactly what my powers were- something to do with innocence and telling the truth and caring... So here I was in the birthland of the mighty Dorothy! I even had my Dorothy dress tucked away in the drawer, so I put it on, took off my boots and jeans and - ta da - Dorothy leaped onto the scene! Here I am (ahem, that is here is Dorothy striking a pose on Maggie's back porch). Still awaiting my ruby slippers, though...

Under her mighty and mysterious powers (and even without the ruby slippers) I managed to break through the fog of republican spun goo about "those other folks aren't like us" that has much of our headspace in its thrall. In full aspect as Dorothy, I imagined myself and the folks I met as ambassadors of some place or time, meeting other ambassadors from their respective place/time. I was Ruby, ambassador from small town Vermont meeting Pam from Alabama (she took the picture, and takes care of her grandchildren while her daughter is at work) and Fred no longer a farmer, Cecil from "up river" (the Arkansas, that is) who had to sell his cattle, Mabel and Bob, retired, the woman in the panhandle who couldn't help me take the solar panel off Maggie's roof because her husband wasn't home and I couldn't use their ladder because the wind was too strong and ...well, her husband wasn't home, and the woman and her father who did help me who said that everyone had moved into town because it was too hard to make it out here (on the panhandle, that is). In Vonnegut's words, and so it goes... The heartland is suffering. We are all in "this" together, says Dorothy.

In the spirit of the equinox, I happened on to a lovely balance to the Emporia farmer's market disappointment miles further down the road. I picked as many as I could reach or shake out of the tree. I could have used a gosh darn ladder!