Don’t mess with the people

There’s revolution in the air. But it doesn’t involve a citizen militia. Instead, people here in Chestnut Hill and around the region are organizing to fend off development in several different forms. Some have formed organizations with high-rent names. Others are tackling local legislation. All have the same purpose: to reclaim power for the people.

In Cheltenham Township, as I write this early Tuesday morning, residents are going to the polls to vote on a “Citizens Bill of Rights” that supporters believe will force local authorities to put residents in the driver’s seat on all development proposals. It seems likely to everyone I’ve spoken to that the amendment will pass. Who would vote against a bill of rights? (Full disclosure: I’m a resident of Cheltenham Township)

The amendment drive by a group that called itself “We the People of Cheltenham” adopted the language from an environmental group that was using the local ordinance language to fend off corporate waste by strip miners and big chemical polluters. In Cheltenham, there was no big pollutant to fight. The fuss is over a SEPTA parking garage planned for SEPTA’s Jenkintown train station.

A trumpet call for citizen’s rights following a proposed parking garage seems farcical – it’s NIMBY hyper drive. Resident claims that property values will drop and that traffic will skyrocket have no support in fact. The parking garage will really do no more than offer more parking to an already busy station.

Also, language in the amendment can’t possibly stand up in court. From the amendment: “Corporations could not avail themselves of the state or federal constitutions, and in particular, could not seek relief under the Commerce Clause and the Contracts Clause of the U.S. Constitution.” I’m not a constitutional scholar, but I don’t think a township can nullify the U.S. Constitution. Imagine the fun municipalities would have if that were possible.

But listening to residents at an Oct. 21 Cheltenham Township meeting you can see the merits of the SEPTA proposal are clearly not the issue. Residents in Cheltenham are by and large not simply opposed to a parking garage. They’re fearful of development in general and they don’t trust their government.

“Many, many people don’t feel that their commissioners have protected the quality of life in Cheltenham,” said resident Janet Benton, whose remarks are documented in a YouTube video by Cheltenham amendment supporters. “People don’t feel that they’ve been heard and our vision for Cheltenham doesn’t seem to mesh with the vision for Cheltenham that’s been put on paper.”

It couldn’t have been put better. With all that’s going on in the country, it’s easy to see how the average citizen can feel that she has no control whatsoever on what happens around her.

Another resident, Theresa Camerota, actually drew analogies to the national political scene and decried widespread corporate interest.

“From the womb to the grave in this country, we are ruled by corporations,” she said. “This movement is not about just what’s happening in Cheltenham. It’s happening in health care, it’s happening in campaign finance and reform. It’s happening all over the place.”

So as other groups rise to block what they believe is bad development, including the newly formed Northwest Wissahickon Conservancy, which began amassing a war chest to fight Chestnut Hill College’s attempts to gain a zoning status that would allow it to develop without community input, local governments, institutions and developers would be wise to do a much better job of listening and communicating.

It might be easy to write off these groups as populated with nothing but kooks and cranks, but dismissing them as such is a great mistake. The people give this system its power, and when the people finally wake up and get moving, they will change things, whether those in power like it or not.

Even if the outcome – blocking a useful commuter parking garage – makes no sense.

Pete Mazzaccaro

Good eating from fall and winter harvest
By JENNIFER REED

This past week, my husband and I put our community garden plot to bed for the winter. Due to a lack of foresight in the spring, mosquitoes and general summer laziness, I didn’t plant any cool season crops like spinach, cabbage, any of a dozen squashes, chard or beets.

So now in mid-fall I’m collecting the last of our produce: peppers, an eggplant or two, a couple of onions and some wild horseradish. I’ve tucked the garden beds under a nice blanket of mulch and soon will add some salt hay to protect my little microbes from hard driving rain and blustery winter winds.

This is also the time of year when you write in your garden journal about successes and failures of the past season and some recommendations for next year.

One of my friends reminded me, in the beginning of my gardening venture, of a book called “The $64 Tomato” by William Alexander, alluding to all the investment necessary – land, mulch, seeds, tools, fencing, fertilizer, pest controls, trellises and lots and lots of time – to produce one, hopefully perfect, vegetable.

If I was the scientific sort, who would keep track of such things, I could tell you exactly how much our tomato cost us. The truth is that I don’t really want to know. I don’t want to have the evidence that supports giving up on my venture. I try to think of it as a school of hard knocks, knowing that one day, my delectable, bountiful harvest will surpass my extravagant investments in copper plant tags, stainless steel pitchfork, and designer Wellies.

While my goal of trying to live off the land, like Barbara Kingsolver in “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle,” did not remotely measure up to her success, we did eat way more string beans than I ever thought possible and managed to put up a modicum of goodies for the winter.

Colleen, my friend, weeding partner and co-owner of our plot, diligently canned eight quarts of poached pears (and by that I mean she took the pears from my tree while I was away on vacation) and five quarts of tomato salsa, before the blight took most of our crop. She even bought me a $5 thrift store food dehydrator which I used exactly twice for drying cherry tomatoes and sliced bananas, all of which we ate as soon as they were done.

We couldn’t help ourselves! I’m already down to my last cup cake size portion of pesto that I froze when the basil was taking over where the tomatoes had given up. Although our larder is not fully stocked for the not-so-long and hard Philly winter, our first season of practiced self-sufficiency serves to underscore the huge amount of effort it takes to be able to feed oneself and ones family.

There is nothing like doing something yourself to fully appreciate someone else doing it for you. The list of these types of vocations is extremely long, but at the very top of this list, along with parenting, plumbing and roofing, in my opinion, is farming. It’s not my intention to dissuade you from going out there and trying your own green thumb at growing something, anything, but – more than anything else – to recognize the value and hard work of our local farmers.

Although my garden is done producing, these farmers are still bringing in the fall harvest. To celebrate this harvest and the farmers who grew it, local food potlucks are showcasing these cool weather crops along with the civility of the slow food movement, a shared culinary experience and a forum for more discussion.

Sustainable Springfield, a community organization started this year by Katherine Lewis Sarsfield, along with Carson Valley Children’s Aid, hosted a local food forum and potluck on Oct. 24, welcoming more than 35 attendees who shared dishes made only from locally available foods.

Guest speakers, including Rachel Milenbach, executive director of Weavers Way Community Programs (WWCP), and Nathan Thomas, a full-time farmer at Breakaway Farms in Lancaster County, extolled the economic, environmental and societal impact of buying local. Sarsfield noted that these events highlight how much local produce is plentiful even in fall and winter.

Winter harvest isn’t just about vegetables, it’s about humanely raised animals – like the ones found at Breakaway Farms – honey, eggs and value-added products, such as jams, jellies, beeswax, dried foods, etc. Our markets here in Chestnut Hill carry a selection of local products including apples, eggs, bread and milk, but if you want a one-stop-shopping of all of things local, seven days a week, stop by the newly relocated Fair Food Farm Stand on the 12th Street side of the Reading Terminal Market. Its Web site is listed below.

If you’re thinking about hosting your own local-only potluck there are plenty of resources available. The following Web sites help locate farms, authentic farmers’ markets, groceries and restaurants that carry local, organic products.

At www.slowfoodphilly.org, a member of Slow Food USA, is a list of upcoming potlucks and area restaurants specializing in locally grown food. The site www.sustainabletable.org has links to many other local food sites and shopping guides, and at www.eatwellguide.org you will find good, local, sustainable, organic farms, restaurants and markets. At www.whitedogcafefoundation.org/farmstand.html, Fair Food Farm Stand is now taking orders for organic and Heritage Breed Thanksgiving turkeys at www.fairfoodphilly.org at Reading Terminal Market 12th and Arch Streets, Monday through Saturday: 8 a.m. to 6 p.m., Sunday: 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Be sure to invite me to your next local-only potluck at ecologic.chlocal@gmail.com. Bon appetit!

Is it time to wave the White Flag? (Part 1)
by HUGH GILMORE

Over the past two months, my “dream deferred” has begun drying up like a raisin in the microwave. At least it seems that sudden. But it’s true, and the admission of what’s happened is now overdue.

Two years ago, in October of 2007, I had a neat thought for a novel I might want to write:

When his first son is born, a man lays down a bottle of vintage port, intending to give it to his son when the boy becomes a man. The son dies at 18. The father still has the port, but can’t decide what to do with it. Any choice he makes will reflect his final attitude toward life and death, fathers and sons, duty and pleasure. He trusts that time will guide his decision.

Then, one night, burglars break in. Among the things they take is the bottle of wine.

The father goes after them, trying to track down the thieves and recover his bottle.

It seemed like a pretty good story idea to me (and still does), but I wondered where I’d find the time to write it. And I doubted I had the discipline to start such a project and finish it. Would I write consistently enough to maintain the narrative flow and tone of a book-length project?

Then I happened to find in the Free Library of Philadelphia the newly published “This Year You Will Write Your Novel,” by the mystery writer Walter Mosley. I read this short, simple, friendly, encouraging book twice and decided to make room in my life to write my novel.

In January 2008, I began, following Mosley’s Rule #1: You must write every day, for at least an hour and a half. I gave my book more than that. By the end of March, I’d written 100,000 words. Then I began rewriting.

The first draft was written from a “first person” point of view. I rewrote the entire book in “third person” because the tone sounded better. I read the book out loud to myself, added characters, deleted characters, and rewrote scenes. At times I felt discouraged, but I did my duty every day.

My dream? To walk into Borders at the Top of The Hill and see my book, and my name, on the New Arrivals rack (cover turned sideways, of course). That would be the culmination of a life-long dream centered on the love of books, reading, and learning, and a reverence for bookstores.

My original intent had been to finish by the end of 2008, but the rewriting took till the end of January of this year. At that point I needed a reality check. I asked my wife, who is a good editor, and four other people to read the book and criticize it. They did, offering many important suggestions. Then I returned to rewriting.

In April of this year I began sending queries to agents trying to interest someone in representing me to an editor (and hence, a publisher, neither of which can be approached by an unknown writer without an agent).

After a while, the responses began to trickle in. In most cases, a literary agency’s mode of responding is to not respond at all — and count on you to read between the lines. Here’s a slightly improved variation on that:

Dear Author,

Thank you for your query. I will respond within three weeks if interested.

If you do not receive a response within three weeks then I have passed on your project.

A small percentage sends form letters saying they’re not interested. They are never addressed to you by name. Like the ubiquitous advertising mailers sent to “Occupant,” these letters are addressed to “Author.” For example, this selection from a New York City literary agency, sent in June:

Dear Author:

Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider your work. Unfortunately, I do not feel strongly enough about your project to pursue it further.

As I am sure you can imagine, we receive a tremendous number of submissions, and we are forced to limit our focus to a select group of projects. Agenting is very subjective, and even though we could not take on your project at this time, another agent might feel differently.

Please accept my best wishes for success in your writing career.           

From another agent in July:

I appreciate the opportunity to consider your work for possible representation, but I’m afraid I’ve decided to pass.

Please do not allow this letter to discourage you. Many best-sellers have been passed on numerous times prior to being successfully published.

Needless to say, these responses discouraged me at times, but hope always loomed on the next e-mail horizon. After all, as I had posted above my desk, “Babe Ruth struck out 1330 times.” So, I could afford a few more whiffs at what New York was pitching me. In July, for example, an agent wrote: “ I’m going to pass, but it’s an interesting premise and I appreciate the look.”

Such comments are encouraging when you’re feeling shadowless – look, I do exist! A positive response (however tepid) from the universe!  And so, you can imagine how pleased I was to receive this next e-mail response to my query:

This sounds like fun. May I start with the opening fifty or so pages? Attachments are fine. My response may take longer than usual since I’m in the process of preparing for vacation.

I received that message on June 10, immediately sent him the first 50 pages, and haven’t heard from him since. I certainly hope he didn’t fall out of a canoe or break his bungee cord in a fun plunge.

Since then a few other agents have “asked for pages,” some as many as a hundred, but aside from receiving a few more compliments, the waters of my career have been as still as a cave pond. I’m tired of the whole process. And bored by the repetition.

What should I do? Shall I start another round of queries? (They’re surprisingly time-consuming.) Should I give up on this novel? Give up on novel writing? If I do, I’ll feel as if I’ve duped my four early draft readers ... and those who’ve been following this column and wishing me well. Surely they sacrificed their time to help me, and not to see me give up. And giving up – on anything! – is so un-American.

I was willing to give two years of my daily life to this project, but a third year? And even if someone wants the book, it wouldn’t be published for another year. And now they say the Borders bookstore in Chestnut Hill is closing. What should I do?

(Continued next week)