I am the Eggman

Yesterday, I finally roused myself from my miserable sickbed and rejoined The Community of (Hu)Man: I took my weekly trip to the feed store. I always pick up all kinds of necessities there, like brass sprayer tops or pumps for plastic bottles, red clover seed, the latest gossip — um, news, that is.

The only thing any different this week was that Darren was working there again. And the thing with Darren is, Darren’s doing it.

Oh, sure, I’ll grant you, he’s a weird one, but who isn’t? He’s smart as a whip and, over the years that I’ve been out here, has taught me more over that feed store counter than any other person, book, website, article or hard earned experience. Darren’s the one who quite nearly convinced me a couple of years ago to plant my entire place in pecan trees. Trust me, that’s one piece of advice I sorely regret not taking.

Besides, unbeknownst to me, when I haven’t been tempted by the pretty little Aracauna eggs from my neighbor, I’ve been buying Darren’s. He says he’s now getting four and a half dozen a day, and things are going well enough that he’s even sprung for a name for his growing farm business and stamps on his recycled egg cartons.

He tried to hide it, but it showed – Darren’s pretty proud of himself.

He asked me how my goats were doing (served up as burritoes long ago, no doubt) and wanted to know why I was buying his eggs when I should be gathering my own.

Oh, I had to take a job in town. I love my job, don’t get me wrong, I said. But I ran out of money. Darren started laughing — okay, so it was just the slightest hint of a smile, but for Darren, that’s uproarious laughter. Yea, I worked two jobs til I put aside some money, then I quit again so I could take care of my chickens and trees and gardens.

He gave me that look and said retirement’s not looking like it’s going to happen for me. I could only smile because, trust me, you can’t even begin to imagine the number of people taking bets on how long I last in my current job. It’s a hard lifestyle, but it’s the best lifestyle.

We spent a lot of time commiserating over other things, including the girl from my school who died from the hit and run. “Patrolling,” he said. “Those folks get themselves a few six-packs and start patrolling the lakes. They likely drifted over the center line and ran her over. But they’ll catch them, you’ll see. People like that can’t keep their mouths shut, and someone knows who it is.”

And yes, it’s true, I exchange gossip and information with the checkers at my grocery store and at the two health food stores I patronize (including the one that tests all their incoming products and refuses to sell many of the top brands because of it) and elsewhere.

But the best information can be found only at the feed stores and coops and via the goat cheese lady and the Raw Milk Underground. Because at its essence, it’s about community: sustainable community. And community sustains itself not just through glorious eggs and to die for goat cheese and crisp greens, but through the networks of support and information and traceable flows of money and genuine “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” relationships.

And that’s exactly what it’s all really about – reforming those broken bonds, learning to read the smoke signals, contributing somehow to your nearest neighbors’ economic viability, behaving in ways that grow the community to the best advantage of that community.

True, by choosing this way of life, I’ve lost all rights of fashion – not that I don’t love fashion – I mean, I do have a Posh Spice hairdo and did almost pry those patent leather Mary Janes off that woman behind me today.

But I can’t wear Mary Janes anymore anyway because of the wire shot into my thigh muscle by a mower one day – a common injury for anyone doing what I like to call Rural Renewal.

Besides, what I’ve gained in return can’t be measured.

Talking to Darren yesterday brought that home to me. Yes, he’s had to go back to work again because he’s run out of money again — but he’s doing it. He’s piecing a life together and, in the process, rebuilding the community.