Enter the new...

So we're looking for someone...

As always, we have plans.  Lots of them never come to fruition, because the plans always, always outnumber us.  But we are facing the huge need to get the back cooler room done, and somehow configure an attic office to reduce the mess out front.  We have signs that are halfway through the design stage, and shelving that needs to go up.

And we need at least one reliable, part time person who wants to be a partner in this endeavor called MGS. We are looking for someone, who, frankly, really likes people.  And who thinks that eating good is a pretty damn fine idea, but who isn't above selling loose tobacco and cheap beer.  We need a person who can offer ideas, help with buying and researching, but who isn't afraid to get dirty.  Because mostly what we do is clean.

If you think that making cheese for retail just might be a good idea, if you aren't afraid of getting up early or being here late, and if you actually think making great bread from flours we might someday mill here in Rensselaerville is not just crazy talk, then maybe you should come chat with us.

Oh, January.

If there's ever a time you'd like to make the switch to buying local, I can guarantee that January is when your behavior will have the most bang for the buck, at least in our community.  In the spring and summer months, lots of folks are lured here by our fishing streams, by our crisp, clean air, by the undeniable attractiveness of hiking our trials or biking our roads or staring blissfully at our amazing ancient mountains.

But, January.  January is often cold.  And snowy.  (Though not as much lately.)  January is when everyone is trying to catch up from holiday bills and December fiscal battles with their accountants.  No one wants to drive in January; no one is much up for more frivolity, having gotten partied out for the holidays.  Everyone hibernates and January is so slow.

Luckily, for my local farmers and processors, it is also the time when they can breathe a little, with crops buried snugly under snow till sunshine and longer days return, and we can plan.  Or cook up schemes. This January, February and March, we are planning on doing just that.

Our amazing gallery opening (and if you missed Hans' work, the photographs are still blessing the front of the store, and are for sale!) and talk by Otter Hook's Chris Kemnah, inspired a lot of interest in such things as crop mobs and local economic development.  We want us all to do better.  We want Walmart to, frankly, not do so well.

And we're not alone.  An interesting article from the Tyee out of British Columbia caught my attention: local enterprises that work together.  Isn't that a beautiful idea?  And so simple.  One of my goals for the year is to work towards some sort of sustainable chamber of commerce on the hill.  Lots of enterprises, working together, for the betterment of each other, and our community, hopefully with future generations in mind, is bound to create something special.

Another way of doing better is to get serious about creating some sort of local currency - it will keep our dollars in our community, or, in some cases, keep them from become dollars at all, as they remain exchanges through individuals.  A cool recent article from Resilience also noted that we can set up electronic systems for money exchange - so even though I may be sentimentally attached to the original version of the Ithaca dollar - there are actually better ways of exchanging goods and services.

You know me - I don't want to have to beg folks to start growing winter greens for me, or bring me more local meats, or eggs (staring at Tim!); I don't want to keep hounding you all to do something about finding my local value-added processors a place to make their amazing jams or fudge or pickled products.  Frankly, my kids (and my poor husband!) would be thrilled if I would ratchet it down a notch or two.  But I think this stuff is vital to our long term sustainability - both the store, and much more importantly, this community.  And I can't do it alone.  Honestly, I wouldn't want to do it alone.

So take this as a gentle reminder - there's lots afoot this time of year, even though it seems like folks are hibernating.  We are deliberating on things that will set in motion our progress for years to come.  (Okay, that last bit might be a bit over the top, but you never know.)  One thing's for sure: you don't want to miss this!

Up for the challenge?

Someone recently referred to me as "dogmatic".  And since we weren't having the friendliest conversation, I have to assume he wasn't thinking of me with admiration.  If he meant that I was acting based on rigid principles, I am guilty as charged.

Guilty.

Because I live based on certain principles, despite existing in a world that is relativist by nature, and surrounded by lots of folks who've been too browbeaten to think they deserve to have unchallengable assumptions, I probably seem a bit hard headed.  That's true, too.

We all have our rough edges, I guess.

The conversation that ignited this insignificant but briefly fiery exchange stemmed from my suggestion that he support the store through shopping here for groceries.

Really. That was all.

I didn't demand to see his Democratic Party card; didn't expect that he would want to join our ongoing conversations about localism and sustainability.  Didn't make fun of what he drives, or how far every week. (I do that sometimes; I'm sorry.) Just suggested that his family grocery needs could be met by the closest local store.

It occurred to me that I am probably dogmatic in other ways, too.

I have a few principles about the nature of our economy, namely the parts of it that are unsustainable, that I probably share those forcefully.  And I usually act as though they are un-challenge-able.  So it goes with some things.

But, come on, folks - do I really need to say this - we're all friends, right?

You must challenge me anyway.  Really.  We can't do better - I can't be better - unless you decide I am sometimes completely nuts and speak up.  Maybe it's the whole issue of selling organics - maybe you hate the fact that I sell tobacco.  (I hate it, too.)  Maybe you think we should sell more local products.  (I do, too.)  I know there's probably a long list.  (Charlie Steele might actually post his grievances, starting with my foolish recitations about the science of climate change!)

We are the ones who are making discourse possible.  So don't just unsubscribe, metaphorically or literally, if you don't like what I have to say.  Call me on it - I love to talk.  It's up to us to reinvigorate the sorts of discourse that used to take place in community.

Because, as we say at the front tables all the time, we might even save the world.

Walking our way to a better future

I love walking.  It didn't start with Medusa - and even though Reggie Duncan is an inspiration, his walking isn't really the root of my own compulsion to walk.  I've been taking the slow road for a long time.

I like to joke with folks that our carbon footprint has diminished substantially, even though we just purchased an aged conversion van. We are only about a mile from the store and we've been getting there most days via foot.  Sometimes my kids bike - and Perin rides in a stroller and the babies ride on me - but we are always blessed with the satisfying sameness of the majestic Catskill range.

It strikes me that this is not only a metaphor for life - we are struggling on this path one step at a time - but it is also enormously practical.  It is meditative, and deeply healthful, and doesn't emit a damn thing.

Why not make this one of our first calls to action?  And it's a call that nearly anyone can answer.  Walk or bike.  To Medusa.  I know some of you aren't close, but lots of you are - I have a friend who visits us from Altamont via bike. And another from Glenmont. We have an event coming up - of course you know, since I've been beating you up on every social media site imaginable, reminding you.  Small Business Saturday is on the 24th, right after Thanksgiving and horrendous black Friday.  Bike or walk here for Small Business Saturday, as a celebration of your commitment to spend less, and spend local.

We are celebrating, I think, something as special as Thanksgiving itself on Saturday, the 24th.  If we are planning to make progress towards building the types of self-reliant communities that can weather real and proverbial storms, it is pretty crucial that folks support we small independents.

That day you'll have the opportunity to chat with some of your local farmers and artisans, all of whom are your neighbors.  They, too, are taking the slow road, but are producing quality and beauty of unimaginable value - from home spun wool to sweetly tended chickens, from homegrown and kitchen canned produce to fresh baked breads, these neighbors of yours are on the forefront of a passionate movement to re-provision their community with the best foods and products in life.

You should walk down to Medusa for another reason, as well.  In our infamous "back building" we're hosting a street art workshop on the 24th.  Here in Medusa, we just started a local chapter of 350.org and are anxious to make some street art that exhibits our passion for localism, for building self-reliant communities, and for stopping the near-ceaseless assault on the planet.  You bring some blank t-shirts and catchy slogans and we'll supply the paint and the cardboard.  And then spread the message to the world, one homemade road sign at a time.

How could this not catch on?  And if you meet me at my house, we can walk down together.

Gas shortages and community building

So we're all a little worried.  There are still some of you we haven't heard from - those friends of the store and of Medusa who make their primary homes in the city or on Long Island.  And tonight, as I try to type quietly so as not to wake the sleeping babies lying next to me, I continue to worry.

This morning an old childhood friend (we wish you lived closer, Dan Ryan!) posted on Facebook that Kingston was running out of gas.  Honestly, I thought that was a little strange, but didn't think much of it.  At the store today, a friend, one of those who works during the week in New York, chatted with me a bit about our decision to sell the store - and we laughed a little about how there isn't a better place to create a home than here.  Medusa is as safe as life gets, I think.  We are also blessed with more than our fair share of brilliant, creative, amazing people.  My family doesn't have any plans to leave, I told him.  And I was glad he'd made it out of the city and back to Medusa, because, after all, we have plenty of gasoline. 

But later, we started having more folks calling to inquire whether we had gas - frankly, as we do run out every so often, this wasn't immediately worrisome.  But then news started trickling in that local stations - Greenville, for example - were beginning to run out of gas.  How can this be - with all of our technology, we must have modelled the supply chain problems that could occur after facing a crisis like a hurricane hitting the upper East Coast, right?  And why isn't there more on the web about the gas shortages that are spreading this far north?  Could this affect our deliveries - could we have food shortages because of our reliance on diesel-fuel-driven truck transportation, we wondered?

Even more concerning, now a google search turns up articles that suggest that the hospitals in the city are closing and moving patients.  That the emergency rooms are facing complete chaos, understaffed and running on generators.  Apparently attempts by the governors of NY and NJ to provide gasoline to folks backfired completely, and they rescinded plans, at least in NY, to provide places where residents could get gas.

I am starting to feel like I've watched one too many Walking Dead episodes, honestly.  And I think some of you are probably reading and waiting for the punch line, but there is none, this time.  The fact that, thanks to a hurricane hitting Manhattan, climate change and peak oil are phrases that have suddenly come back into vogue is little consolation as I wonder what I would do if I had a sick or injured child and no where to go for help.

But if there is a silver lining, and I am one of those annoying, Pollyanna-esque types, I think that we may be witnessing one of the brightest moments ever in our struggle to turn our ship towards greater sustainability.  And, as I discussed with a friend today, if that term is not clear enough - let's figure out exactly what we should call it.  We need to develop a plan, right here and right now, about how we become energy independent.  We need to take Carol's lead, up at Heather Ridge, and start implementing energy alternatives.  We need to start getting more local food - all year round - on shelves here at our store - and folks must begin acknowledging that they need to participate in supporting that.  Mostly, I think, we need to work much harder to develop the sort of community that can weather storms - either literally in the form of Irene, or more indirectly, as we experience the effects of supply chain problems that can ripple outward for months.  A strong, cohesive community is capable, I think, of facing any challenge, no matter how insurmountable it may at first appear.

So I am inviting you to take the first step with me.  And I'm not even sure how, exactly.  But even if we start by putting up a big bulletin board at the store where you can post your ideas about how we, as deciding members of this community, can move towards becoming more resilient, more prepared, more immune to these types of crises, that would be better than simply watching and waiting.  We must make a point of finding each other more often, talking, figuring out what the way forward looks like - we need to stop waiting for someone else to do it.
 
It’s time we all make the decision to participate, because, from my vantage point, it seems like we no longer have much of a choice.

State of the Store

It would be impossible to tell each and every one of you this in person, so consider this blog a sort of heart-to-heart with each of you.

We have decided to try to sell the store.  Now, this isn't a tragic, we're-about-to-close confessional.  It has been some time in coming, and we have no plans to close.  To repeat that: we have no plans to close any time soon.  This remains a successful business, a joy to run, and we are grateful to have had this amazing opporunity.

But we have had a long year.  Between employee issues, a state audit, and increasingly expsensive products, we were exhausted.  But after being turned down by two different banks, after verbal commitments from both that they would kick in extra funding for capital improvement projects, we think we are ready for our next adventure.  Plus, as you know, we have a growing young family, with *two* unbelievable new babies. 

I don't want to use this as a place to rant about those of you who still, after three years, continue to drive to Albany for your groceries.  Water under the bridge, as they say.  But I would be remiss to not personally thank those of you - and you know who you are - who patronize this store, day after day, week after week.  Even when I don't have exactly what you wanted (or even close to what you wanted!), you forgive and return, somehow understanding that we cannot possibly carry everything you want, but we try incredibly hard to please everyone.  You are the folks who understand what it takes to keep this place open, and we thank you.

We aren't giving up - and we will not sell the store to just anyone - and we continue to have tons of plans for this winter.  But consider this heart-to-heart a bit of fair warning about the state of MGS.

Transparency

Transparency is what makes small towns work, I think.  You can't talk about your neighbor without her eventually finding out.  You can't buy a new car or a new grill, or get a new husband, without the town talking about it.  Lots of folks find this aspect of small towns intrusive, aggravating, and they'll go to exhaustive ends to prevent the natural ecosystem of the town from finding out what they're up to.  They don't seem to understand that that just makes them all the more interesting.  And all the more worthy of discussion.

Even young folks, who've grown up in small towns, graduated from local high schools, still seem to find it surprising when their actions become the topic of town-ish chatter.  Why?  To a great degree causing a bit of a local stir was the point, after all.

So here's a nugget to chew on: we think we have secured third year funding. Not from the bank that promised us our original line of credit, but we aren't holding any grudges.  And it was not without the help of a generous benefactor who has come to our aid in the past.  We owe lots to his willingness to step forward (again!).

But, folks, this is the last year we can hack this without turning a profit.  We have literally taken a vow of poverty to run the store.  It has been a labor of love: love for this community, for the ghosts of the Bell's, for the beautiful place that is Medusa. 

There is little that we ask of you, but what we ask is critical.  Keep shopping here.  Spread the word to your friends.  Be clear about what's at stake here.  (I still struggle with the mentality shared by folks that say they are our friends, but simply can't bring themselves to actually purchase anything in our store.  Being "supportive" means spending money; it's pretty simple.)  Keep providing feedback - we want things to be better.  Also don't be offended if we don't take all of your criticism to heart - there are lots of divergent views out there, after all.

Mostly, keep the faith.  This year has been a struggle for lots of us, we understand.  But we still believe that together we have created something really amazing here, and together we will build a beautiful future.