I’d been wanting to see “No Impact Man” since it came out a few years ago. It’s a documentary of a family who tries to live for a year with zero net impact on the environment, phasing down gradually from the conveniences we take for granted.

Last night, we watched the movie. What I had never realized is that Colin and his at-first-skeptical wife Michelle are doing this in New York City—in the capital of consumerism, in the belly of the beast. And Michelle in particular came from a superconsumerist lifestyle, a self-identified shopping addict who purchased lots of designer clothes and either ate out or got take-out almost every night.

The Bicultural Perspective

Dina and I were both raised in New York City; we were both living in Brooklyn when we met. But 32 years ago, we moved from Philadelphia (we’d lived there for nine months) to Greenfield, Massachusetts, population 20,000 and the hub town for farmy Franklin County.

Six months later, when Dina got a job 40 miles south of us, we moved 20 miles south to Northampton, a hip, urbane small college/arts town of 30,000, also surrounded by farmland.

And then, after 17 years in Northampton, we moved across the river 15 years ago to Hockanum, a tiny village of about 200 souls. We live on a working farm that’s been in our neighbors’ family since 1806; they raise 400 cows as well as hay and corn to support the cattle.

Our farm neighbors sold us a house that was built in 1743, and they were only the second family to own it. Mount Holyoke (the mountain, not the college) is literally right behind our house; Mount Tom is just across the Connecticut River.

It’s pretty darn different from the 26-storey apartment building in a 35-high-rise complex where I lived during high school, or from the noisy urban melting pot neighborhoods of my earlier childhood and Dina’s entire upbringing.

For many years, we’ve called ourselves “bicultural.” We can still function well in the fast-paced, loud, crowded setting of New York. But after 32 years in the Pioneer Valley, we’re actually more at home with our country neighbors—talking about our gardens, hiking the hills, and sharing an ethic that values the land. Frugality and green choices have always been a part of our lifestyle, even before we left the city.

With this history, our viewing of “No Impact Man” reflects both our urban past and our rural present: two very different worlds. (to be continued tomorrow)

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Political advisors spew so much crap about the need to tear down your opponent. Here’s a refreshing case study that proves the opposite is possible.

Congratulations to the newly-elected mayor of Northampton, Massachusetts, David Narkewicz. While his opponent went negative to the point of craziness (even going so far as to attack him for riding a bicycle, with an ad that talked about training wheels as a metaphor for inexperience), Narkewicz stayed positive, focusing on community-building, achieving widely held goals, and his own civic history. He was also deeply issue-focused and very articulate during the numerous debates (more than I can remember for any previous local election, in my 30 years in the area).

As a marketing consultant who has occasionally advised politicians, I have long held the opinion that such a positive campaign could be quite popular. I used this positive focus writing the press releases for the successful first mayoral campaign of a different mayor, who won in 1989 and went on to serve four two-year terms.

And while I predicted that his opponent’s strategy (using the considerable talents of a very good local ad agency), would fail, even I was pleasantly shocked at the margin of victory. Narkewicz took 70 percent of the vote, sweeping every ward, even the traditionally conservative western parts of the city. And he had coattails for progressives in every other contested race, as well as a ballot initiative to keep a land-preservation bill that the right had attacked.

Bravo.

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For the last 28 years, I’ve lived in or just outside Northampton, Massachusetts. About ten years ago, Northampton established the position of City Poet Laureate, with a two-year term. Until two years ago, the post was mostly ceremonial. The official poet would occasionally show up and read a poem to mark some event or other, but kept a low profile.

Then Lesléa Newman was chosen for the post. She used her entire two years to work as a catalyst to bring poetry to the people–and the people to poetry. She organized event after event, and brought formidable community organizing skills into the task of making poetry relevant to every generation.

Among her accomplishments:

  • Filling an 800-seat theater with a poetry reading involving readers from the community as well as cities within a few hours drive (none of them superstars)
  • Getting poets to agree to write a poem a day for a month and get sponsors to pledge contributions, raing over $11,000 to benefit a literacy program that helps new immigrants
  • Putting together an anthology of local poets
  • Taking poetry programs into the schools
  • Providing exposure to local poets in a newspaper column
  • The list could go on and on. Newman has been a dynamo and an inspiration. Perhaps this is not surprising from a woman whose 57 published books (!) have included such groundbreaking material as Heather Has Two Mommies (possibly the first lesbian-friendly children’s book to get wide circulation, Letter to Harvey Milk, and one of the first novels about bulemia.

    In the United States, we tend to be uncomfortable with intellectuals. People who pride themselves on their lack of knowledge of the world around them actually do grow up to be President (GW Bush) and run for Vice President (Palin). When we do elect a leader who’s an intellectual, like Barack Obama or Bill Clinton, it’s because they disguise it well, and we see pictures of them doing “man of the people” activities like chowing down burgers at McDonald’s (Clinton) or taking his kids to the bumper cars at a fair (Obama). I think the last prominent US leader who was not afraid to show himself as an intellectual may have been Franklin Roosevelt.

    Other countries treasure their artists, and especially their dissident artists. The first president of free Senegal was the poet Leopold Senghor; in the Czech Republic, it was the playwright Václav Havel. In the United States, yes, we’ve had a number of Presidents who’d written books before taking the office, including both JFK and Nixon as well as Obama (and his former opponent Hillary Clinton)–but these people were already in public life when they wrote their books. Outside of the movies, which gave us Reagan, Schwarzenegger, and even former Carmel, California mayor Clint Eastwood, it’s hard to think of major US policy makers who really came up out of the arts.

    We’ve had plenty of dissident artists, some of them even pretty famous (Bob Dylan, Pete Seeger, Ani DiFranco). But while art can shape people’s movements, as protest folk and protest rock helped to solidify protests against segregation, the Vietnam War and nuclear weapons, it doesn’t seem to shape policy. And in many cases, we find that the dissidents who achieve fame are quieter about their dissent, at least until they’ve already achieved fame (classic example: John Lennon, who did become quite visible in the peace movement after moving to New York). Not too many people stop to analyze the working-class-hero lyrics of Bruce Springsteen and find the progressive values underneath, because it’s cloaked in something that looks superficially like a right-wing version of patriotism. But get down-and-dirty with the lyrics of “Born in the USA”, and you’ll see it’s about a Vietnam vet who went into the army because he grew up in a depressed town, couldn’t find work, and got into trouble–and then after his hitch still can’t find a job.

    Hey, Bruce, ever thought about running for office?

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    Interesting piece in the Washington Spectator, noting that the Anniston (Alabama) Star seems to be doing reasonably well, even as big-city papers around the country move to Internet-only or shut their doors entirely. Even the Boston Globe is teetering.

    In my own area, I read the Daily Hampshire Gazette, published in Northampton, Massachusetts for over 200 years. Northampton is a town of about 30,000; the whole county had only 152,251 in the 2000 census.

    Yet, despite a proliferation of local online advertising channels and a tough economy, the Gazette seems to be doing well also. The parent company has even acquired several newspapers recently, and the Gazette also publishes a growing number niche magazines.

    Early on, the paper decided it would not cannibalize print with its web edition; many of the stories (especially the local news stuff that would be hard to get elsewhere) are behind a firewall, available only to paid subscribers. Oddly enough, I notice that the link to the Spectator story is also subscriber-only. Hmmm–can this model work? The Wall Street Journal abandoned it, but clearly traditional print journalism is not doing well in a world of free content from professional journalists.

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