Arriving at EVF after three weeks in Mexico with thirteen of my students was like discovering the farm for the first time. In rural
America (North and South) and all over the world, land has traditionally held families together. Nurtured by a sense of place
and purpose, families work together and work the land to make ends meet. Although Mexico has extraordinary natural resources, it is
nearly impossible to make a decent living in the country or the city,
and so, in a vicious catch-22, fathers and sons, uncles and cousins
are forced to leave their families in order to support them by sending
money back home from menial-wage jobs in the United States.
With these thoughts on my mind, I arrived in Newark and the madness of
Penn Station, hub of the breakneck city and its frantic inhabitants.
This is the American Dream, El Sueño Americano: to rush at 90 miles
per hour along the endless stretch of concrete and cars, hideous
housing developments, and the same gigantic totem poles of capitalism
dotting the highway (Wal-Mart! Starbucks! McDonald's! Exit 22! All in
one!!) that are destroying traditional Mexican life.
And then the train pulls into Rhinecliff Station, and minutes later as
you make the turn onto Echo Valley Road, you wonder how a place like
this can still exist. How impossibly lucky are we, as a family, to
have this paradise?
Among many things that resonated with me at last summer's family
meeting was the need for all of us to continue the work of the farm -
not necessarily by plowing the fields, but by each person contributing
what he or she can to whatever projects are needed. It was in this
spirit that I took to the picket fence, perhaps not the most essential
of projects, but important nonetheless.
Five hundred Spanish cedar pickets were cut at a local mill and
delivered to us on two palettes. Priming and painting them all took
the three of us five full days. After mapping and measuring the old
fence, we assembled each section, learning as we went along, until
twelve pristine sections were lined up on the barn floor. Assembly of
the fence proved much more difficult, but by yesterday at 1:00, we
finished the job to our (and hopefully your) satisfaction!
While we were working, the three Kukon boys came to mow, rake and bail
our hay, which they deemed to be in good condition even at this late
summer date. The sight of the tractor in the fields and the sunlight
slanting beneath the clouds, over the brook and up to the farmhouse at
the end of the long, purposeful days was indescribably gratifying.
This is the way the farm is meant to be – productive, for the land and
for us. These are the roots that sustain our family tree. Although
this email may seem overly poetic, I mean it to be practical as well,
for the work of this summer is proof positive that our family and our
farm are heading in the right direction. I am happy to hear that new
families want their own spaces on the farm. I have never had the
chance to spend this much time on the farm because my family never had
its own place there.
But ownership is a very Anglo-American concept, and to me the greatest
value of the farm is that we may share it with each other and with
those we love. When I arrived on June 23, my mom and grandmother were
together with cousins they hadn't seen in over twenty years. The farm
provided a place for their family to reunite. The next weekend, six
of my best friends from high school came to visit for a long-awaited
reunion. To be able to spend two days together, to share with them
the history of my family, strengthened our bonds after many years of
living abroad.
When Olivia and I were younger, we loved nothing more than to come to
the farm and be with our older cousins, hunting for loose change in
Elizabeth's magical room, showing sheep at the fair, having bonfires
in the snow. Now our older cousins have kids and houses of their own,
and there are no children living at the farm. Such is the ebb and
flow of families.
But from my perspective, we have only reasons to celebrate. While
still mourning Woody's loss, we have Owen and Celeste, Caitlin and
Nicholas, Natasha, Sasha, and Max, Nikita and Asya, and now Koa and
_________!!(Nina's newest). It is my deepest hope that Echo Valley
Farm will feel like home to all of them the way it was, and is, to
Olivia and me.
To this end, I am totally committed. Although our definitions may
differ, I submit that EVF is still very much a "working" farm. No, I
didn't get to weed the pumpkin patch this summer, nor did Olivia get
to help us with the picket fence. Due to the circumstances of our
lives, seldom will we all be able to collaborate at once on the same
project. But the most important work we can do to ensure the
integrity of the farm and the unity of our family is to support each
other in our respective endeavors, to pitch in whenever we can, and
continue to communicate effectively.
Here's to a productive harvest this fall, from Hong Kong to London to
Moscow, and all places in between.
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