Go West, Young Man. Go West and Grow Up with the Country

Driving West out of Washington, DC.  What an absolute trip, in all senses of the word.  Our Nation's capital is a place of bustling crowds and full of bustling ambition.  I can relate - having always felt an innate desire, an internal urge to do something big and important, not just for myself, but for the world.  
I believe we all share that urge, it just manifests uniquely in each of us.  For some it may aim towards family; for others it may target riches; and for others still it may seek out service to others - no matter what that vision seeks out, it creates an insatiable, internal drive to create. 
In centuries gone by, in the infant and adolescent years of our Republic, they called it manifest destiny.  It began with Columbus in the West Indies, then extended to America's eastern shore in places like Plymouth Rock and Jamestown, then sprawled into 13 colonies who took the ground beneath their feet, and through a revolution, made it a Country.  Then, in the mid 1800's, once those eastern states started to stifle the very same adventurous spirit that built them, the wilderness beckoned once again.  It was at this time, amongst the opportunities to create a homestead in the Midwest or pan for gold in the Sierra Nevada's, that an American author named Horace Greely told a young friend, 

“

Washington is not a place to live in. The rents are high, the food is bad, the dust is disgusting and the morals are deplorable. Go West, young man, go West and grow up with the country.   I've lived these past 8 years in Washington, DC.  And while I agree that the rents are too damn high, I have found our Nation's Capital to be a place of all morals, all peoples, all ambitions, and all intentions - and I have loved it.  Where else in this world can a young man, having just emerged from two years of living in the jungles of Bolivia, go from a broke, dollar-store shopping, career-lacking lifestyle all the way to some of the highest levels of government - and from that position do some real good as a public servant.    DC is a place where opportunity abounds - all you have to do is out-work, out-network, out-perform and out-persist those around you, and then grasp onto that opportunity.  In essence, that same vision of manifest destiny from century's gone by still abounds in present day America.   But now, just as seems to happen over and again, it's time to move on, and my family and I are forsaking the crowds, and the hustle, and the bustle of DC, and setting our sights out West.  It's time to focus on the full spectrum - family, community, surroundings, and career - not just career.  It's time to manifest our destiny in NorCal.  And while we're not heading out to California to pan for gold, we'll be panning for a golden lifestyle from out on the left coast.     

NRCS Assistant Chief Hosts Three White House Roundtables in California

April 3, 2012

NRCS Assistant Chief Hosts Three White House Roundtables in California

NRCS Assistant Chief Hosts Three White House Roundtables in California Story by Jonathan Groveman and Photo by Anita Brown – Public Affairs

At the request of the White House, NRCS Assistant Chief James Gore hosted three roundtable meetings on issues and opportunities related to conservation, the environment and energy in California. The meetings were held March 21 in Salinas, March 22 in Modesto and March 23 in the Santa Rosa area. Approximately 15-20 attendees, representing the agriculture industry, non-profits, local and state government and other entities, attended each meeting and had an open discussion with Gore on local topics of concern. Each meeting was organized to bring a diverse group of stakeholders together so that a good discussion could be held, not just with Gore, but amongst all participants. Gore collected input and intends to follow up with participants to keep a good dialogue and momentum going. Common discussion topics included water and air quality regulations, resource collaboration, permit coordination and the next Farm Bill.      NRCS Assistant Chief James Gore (center, in the background) meets with attendees at a White House Roundtable meeting in Salinas, March 21. Gore discussed conservation, environment and energy-related issues with attendees, and collected input on how the White House and federal agencies can assist with concerns and opportunities in California.

Robert "Bobby" Kennedy - Leadership in Social Justice

“Let no one be discouraged by the belief there is nothing one man or one woman can do against the enormous array of the world’s ills – against misery and ignorance, injustice and violence…Few will have the greatness to bend history itself; but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation…
It is from the numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”

Robert F. Kennedy

USDA Official - James Gore - Visits Hoopa Valley

USDA Official - James Gore - Visits Hoopa Valley

By Dave Sanden Public Affairs Specialist, Red Bluff   James Gore, Special Assistant to the USDA Assistant Secretary for Departmental Management, visited the Hoopa Valley Indian Reservation February 28 during a two-week tour of California.  The visit included meetings with Klamath Trinity RCD (KTRCD) staff and Tribal Council members, a tour of farms and EQIP and AWEP project sites, and talks with landowners and NRCS staff. Recently appointed, Gore is visiting several sites around the state to meet people, find out what the issues are, and how they’re being solved.  NRCS’ work with the Hoopa Valley Tribe is notable for its team approach and trust-building efforts. Staff from the Eureka office and the North West California RC&D have been developing a relationship with the Tribe for years, resulting in establishment of KTRCD in 2007 (the first tribal RCD in California) and an NRCS office in Hoopa in 2010.  KTRCD joined NW CA RC&D as a member in 2008. NRCS also helped the Tribe complete a soil survey that will help farmers better understand the properties of their soil.  In 2009, the first EQIP contract was funded in Hoopa Valley, and the Hoopa Public Utility Department was awarded the first Tribal AWEP in the US.  In 2010, NRCS assisted the Hoopa Forestry Department in submitting a CCPI proposal that was funded for $825,000.  In 2011, NW CA RC&D adopted three new projects in Hoopa Valley. Photo: Hoopa tour participants (from left):  Juan Armand, KTRCD President; Kirsten Losse, Ag Engineer, Eureka SC; James Gore, Heidi Harris, Soil Conservation Technician, Hoopa LPO; Ed Burton, State Conservationist; Rhoby Cook, KTRCD District Coordinator; Jim Spear, Assistant State Conservationist for Field Operations; Diana Sturrock Dellinger, District Conservationist, Eureka SC; Reina Rogers, American Indian Liaison; Bryon Hadwick, NW CA RC&D Coordinator; Jennifer Figueroa-Golder, Rangeland Management Specialist/Tribal Liaison, Eureka SC.

USDA’s Gore Visits the Central Valley on Outreach Tour

USDA’s Gore Visits the Central Valley on Outreach Tour Text By Jim Cairns, Public Affairs Specialist & Photo By Ken Grimes, Fresno Service Center
 James Gore (3rd from right) met with African American farmers during his outreach tour of the Central Valley. 

USDA’s James Gore, Special Assistant to the Assistant Secretary for Departmental Management, continued his outreach-focused tour of California on March 2, hosted by NRCS, with a stop in the Central Valley (see our March 4th e-news for details on Gore’s visit to Hoopa Valley).

The 12-hour-long day of activities included six meetings with 43 NRCS conservation partners throughout Fresno and Madera counties. Tribal outreach included meetings with the Picayune Tribe, and Tribal Council, followed by a visit to the North Fork Band of Mono Indians. Both the Picayune & North Fork Tribes now have Tribal Conservation Districts (TCD). Including his previous visit to Hoopa Valley two days before, Gore visited all three existing TCDs in California.

Other visits included a stop with Mr. Lee at Cherta Farms; Mr. Galavan, a small Hispanic farmer; and Will Smith and the African-American farmers at his property near Raisin City. Additional meetings were held with local Hispanic farmers and UCCE farm advisors.

NRCS staff accompanying Gore included Luana Kiger (S.O.), Curtis Tarver (Fresno), Sharon Nance (Fresno), Jenny Johnson (Madera), Sam Vang (Fresno), Garry Ford (Madera), and Ken Grimes (Fresno).

Under the Gun – literally and figuratively – in Chistochina

By James Gore

1/12/11 

Our meeting with the Cheesh’na tribal council began at 9am, before the sun had risen over the small town of Chistochina in eastern Alaska. 

As Wilson, the tribal administrator, introduced us to their community – its history, its people, and its culture – I focused on one specific part of his overview: the current population demographics.  Of the approximately 100 tribal members in Chistochina, some 40 are under 30 years of age while another 40 are in the 60 years plus range.  With only some 20 people in the 30-60 year array, this remote village and the tribal members find themselves at an important intersection:  one path leads to progressing with the world around them; the other to hold onto their traditions, their culture, and ultimately, their link to their people and this land that provides for them. 

In just looking around the room at my fellow meeting participants, I could see this paradigm at work.  For example, to my left sat Jessica, a vibrant young woman who serves on the tribal council.  In addition to her leadership role, she works throughout her community while also endeavoring to start her own business.  In her work at the Chistochina school – with its two rooms and 14 students (aged 7 to 14) – she and her counterparts teach lessons of tradition interlaced with mathematics and science.  They teach of subsistence hunting, fishing and gathering; however, they also hold basketball practice.  This mixture of tradition and modernization also shows itself in two of her passions: dog sledding and snow machining.  Outside of these activities, Jessica also told us that she has been working on a business plan to purchase a coffee hut and small rental property.  Like many young entrepreneurs, she was both excited and anxious about committing so much of herself to create her own business.  She told us that she had been awake the previous night around 3am, excitedly writing down ideas and plans. 

Sitting across from myself and Jessica during our meeting that morning, and offering a counterpart to Jessica was Jerry. He was a worn yet vibrant man in his 70s, and I could tell when I first met Jerry that this was a man who had done it all, was well respected, and had earned and deserved that respect.  Jerry didn’t speak much himself, but throughout the meeting the other participants continued referring to him and his experience on the local trails as a hunter and fisherman and steward of the land. 

I couldn’t help think about Jessica and Jerry and how the two of them so exemplified the demographic divide that Wilson had spoke of that morning.  I also thought about the vital importance of Jessica's age group, and how they are carrying the weight of both their culture’s past – seen through the eyes of the likes of Jerry  – and their culture’s future – shown through that desire to be an entrepreneur and the development of those 14 students. 

THE FIGURATIVE GUN

Jessica and her counterparts are under the proverbial gun to succeed.  While some might see this as pressure, I only saw strength in the eyes of those young Athabascan women.  That kind of strength breeds faith, and faith is what leads people forward. 

I have faith in Jessica and her generation.  I have faith that Chistochina will survive and thrive.

THE LITERAL GUN

Just towards the end of our meeting, I saw two of the men attending the meeting lean towards each other.  The first, an older man, pulled a pistol out of his pocket and asked the other to show him how fix something with it.  The second man nonchalontly dropped it below the table line and showed the first what he needed to know. 

Now, I don’t care who or where you are.  Even for me, a guy who grew up with hunting and guns around me, it’s a absolutely shocking to see a pistol during a meeting.  As I watched them work the piece, I thought about growing up hunting and fishing, and how although I’m comfortable with firearms, I definitely know how to keep my eye on one, whether in my hand or another’s, just to be safe. 

So as I’m having great conversation with the others at the meeting, I keep my eye on the piece to make sure I’m not in front of it.  Their dialogue comes to a close, and the older man slips the pistol back into the pocket of his coat - but darn it if the grip isn’t angled downward and the barrel of that little .22 sticking right out of his pocket and right at my chest.  Without cutting my conversation off with another young man I was speaking to, I stood up and walked over to the other side of the table – still holding the conversation.  As I continued to discuss community development programs I kept an eye trained on that barrel.  The entire time I absolutely knew that in their mind, the presence of the gun in that meeting was as normal as anything. 

Knowing that there was no bad intentions, I took care of myself and made sure that I shimmyed my way out fron under that barrel.

Whether literal or figurative, we’re all staring down the sights of one barrel or another.

I guess that no matter what, we have to continue what we're doing while at the same time ensuring that actions, whether harmful or harmless, don't get us blasted. 

Just another day on the job.

A Meating over Moose Stew

A Meating over Moose Stew

By James Gore
1/12/11

We arrived at the Ahtna Regional Corporation offices around sundown in the small town of Glenallen. The three hour drive from Anchorage was a striking one, with powerful winds blowing our truck around the icy roads. The views were absolutely spectacular, and I couldn’t help but think of the majestic winter wonderlands depicted in movies as we passed by fierce mountain peaks, frozen lakes, and permafrost tundra. As my colleagues, Barbara Blake and Laura Gidley, and I drove through an especially long and low valley, the vehicle’s thermometer hit fifteen degrees below zero, a new low for me. Over the next few days, I would see that number go lower and our bodies colder more than once.

Ahtna is one of thirteen regional corporations that together control the 44 million acres of tribal-owned land in Alaska. They control the resources in a way that I can only surmise to be a hybrid of County Government and Big Business.

I quickly learned that in this particular area of Alaska, traditional agriculture does not exist, and that they instead define agriculture as subsistence. Locals refer to their harvest of meat and vegetation as “take,” and pride themselves on “taking” in a sustainable manner. As Alaskan Natives believe in their right to self governance, they also believe that their “take” should be self governed and not subject to the oversight and regulation of the State and Federal authorities. They detest the fact that within their culture of taking only what they need, they must still comply with the State’s rule of law. This desire is only reinforced once learning that some 70-90 percent of the dietary protein consumed by rural Alaskan natives comes from a mixture of marine and land-based wildlife, specifically – salmon, moose, and caribou.

This discussion of subsistence focused on the plight of the local moose population. For the Athabascan people, to “take” a moose means much more than hunting, killing, and eating. The meat is cut to ensure short, mid, and long term consumption. The hide is cured and made into clothes and artisan goods for both use and sale. The antlers are proudly displayed above a home or carved into beautiful depictions of Athabasca life and culture. As a hunter, I admire this reverence.

I think it only more appropriate and relevant that as I listened and conversed with our hosts about this mighty moose, we were being served a hearty meal of moose stew. And, boy was it tasty! I was at first brought a steamy bowl of the meat, potato and vegetable concoction at the beginning of our meating (pun intended). The conversation and the flavor must have overtaken me because I found myself going back for seconds, and then thirds – while increasing the ratio of meat to veggie until my final bowl seemed to be just meat and broth. Oh boy!

As I finished that third bowl and continued with our meating, I couldn’t help but stop the conversation for a minute to let my new friends know that I was about as happy as a man could be. It wasn’t more than a minute later that Kathryn Martin, the head of their group, placed a fourth bowl in front of me and smiled, which I proceeded to devour as if it was my first. As our meeting came to an end and we said our goodbyes, I realized how voraciously I had been consuming both the conversation and that stew, and how full I felt in both thought and stomach…quite a nice combination.

It was only two days later that our friend Wilson Justin from the Cheesh’na tribal council – about 60 miles from that first meeting, told us that there was a legend developing around the area about a guy from Washington DC who had tried to eat half a moose during a meeting in Glenallen, and that he had made a good attempt at it. I told him that I could have probably fit in two more bowls if the meating hadn’t ended. He told me that if I had done so, the legend would have only been bigger and lasted longer.

I hope I get the chance to get back there and give it another go.

Adventure in Alaska

By James Gore

1/15/11

I’ve had an amazing and important expedition over the past week in Alaska.

People often rave about the beauty of Alaskan summers; however, with our trip taking place in the dead of winter, I have experienced a far different Alaska. And while those stories of summer travels often wax poetic, evoking images of vibrant colors and flush natural life, the Alaska I visited was one of frigid and austere beauty: snow capped mountain tops, snow drift laden roads, frozen lakes and rivers, thick winter-coated animals, temperatures in the zero to thirty below zero range, and winds upwards of fifty miles per hour.

But also within this striking landscape, I have experienced a dazzling warmth from these people and this land. I have met those whom at first look resembled layers of winter gear more than they did people, but I also found smiles and kindness once those layers were removed. I encountered days that more resembled nights, with a mere 5 hours of dusk-style sunlight; however, within those days of darkness, I have also found the dancing colors of the Aurora Borealis as they taught me that the cold brings beauty as well.

My colleagues and I have undertaken meetings with Alaskan tribal leaders through which I have learned about their lives and their battle to hold on to their culture, their autonomy, and their rights to continue a subsistence based life.

I have learned a ton, and I have loved doing so.

Although I want nothing more than to now return to my family and to my home, I feel full having experienced so much in such a short amount of time.

In that same breath, the next few blog posts will detail a few slices of life from our adventure in Alaska.

How Cold is Cold?

How Cold is Cold?

By James Gore

1/12/11

We made our journey from Anchorage out into the Alaskan countryside. Chistochina, a small tribal village of the Ahthabaskan people, lies in eastern Alaska near the Canadian border. It took us a little over four hours to drive out here from Anchorage, and that journey was AWEsome.

This spectacular drive was made only more interesting as we watched the thermometer go from 20, and then to 10, and then to 0, and then to -10, and then all the way down to negative 15. Holy Moley! The craziest part about all this is that while I am here for only a few days, these Ahthabaskan people are out here all winter long, working and struggling to survive on a daily basis.

Tomorrow brings a new set of adventures. I’m told that we might jump on a dog sled and do some ice fishing. I’m also told that we will hit negative 30 or 40 by the end of the week. Wish us luck.

Tribal Leadership in Alaska

Tribal Leadership in Alaska

By James Gore

1/11/11

Our host here on these tribal consultations is Barbara Blake, a young Alaskan Native who thinks, feels, and ultimately knows subsistence in the context of her brethren. Tomorrow morning, she has arranged for us to attend a meeting focused on developing a new generation of male leaders in Alaskan tribes. As I was told by an organizer of this group, “We have seen a disconnect between generations in Alaskan Native males. In the old days, male leadership of tribal issues was assumed. These days, not only is that assumption wrong, but this void of male leaders in Tribal affairs continues to expand.”

I didn’t understand this sentiment until a conversation with Barbara this evening.

As she put it, “You have to understand our culture and history to grasp this disconnect. Alaska has a generation of young female leaders emerging amongst the 229 Alaskan tribes, and this is a good thing; however, at the same time young Alaskan tribal male leaders are harder and harder to find. If you look back a few generations, tribal women stayed close to the village. They worked on deliberate projects such as child care, cooking, basket weaving, and family development. The men went off to hunt each day, and their work yielded a unique combination of instant and intermittent success. They went on hunting trips, some of which were successful, some of which were not. They either came home with meat or did not. Unlike the native woman who deliberately and continually nurtured the creation of a plant, a basket, or a child, the male had hits and misses.”

This cycle continues to this day with respect to personal development and leadership. Leadership today is all about persistence; it is not a hit or miss thing. One has to get an education; one has to understand the complex issues that confront the tribe with respect to local, state, and federal regulations; one must to be deliberate in his learning of the attributes necessary to, for example, negotiate with energy companies and environmentalist alike. Overall, our current model of leadership development is more attuned to basket weaving than it is hunting. While this emergence of women leaders in Alaskan tribal life is a fantastic development, many tribes feel it imperative to develop young male leaders to compliment their female counterparts.

Tomorrow morning, we will visit one of these such programs focused on addressing the issue of leadership development for Alaskan native males.

I am ready to attend.

I am ready to listen.

I am ready to learn.

Subsistence in Alaska

Subsistence in Alaska
By James Gore
1/10/11

The word Agriculture usually brings to mind visions of corn fields and cattle fields. We think of barns, and tractors, and of quaint rural families living a hard, yet rewarding life.

This picture of American agriculture; however, represents the lower 48 far more than it does Alaska – that majestic land of abundant hunting, fishing, oil and gold – where agriculture equals subsistence, it’s tribal communities, not rural America, who harvest nature’s bounty.

I arrived in Anchorage last night at about 3am, and woke up this morning to participate in a forum of tribal consultations. These meetings provide us the opportunity to learn about the lives of Alaskan Native Americans, and to work on ways to adapt our program offerings to fit specific needs. After these first two days here in the Alaskan capital, we will head out to the eastern part of the state and the villages of Chistochina and Mentasta Lake, where I’ve been told to expect temperatures as low as 40 degrees below zero. 40 degrees below zero?! Whoa. I find it already inspiring to know that people are out hunting and fishing in this weather, where any uncovered section of one’s skin will be frostbitten before you can say “I’m freezing.”

Here in Alaska, subsistence is defined as “The use of mammals taken by Alaskan Natives for food, clothing, shelter, heating, transportation, and other uses necessary to maintain the life of the taker or those who depend upon the taker to provide them with such subsistence.”

In this place of beauty and ferocity, I have a true adventure awaiting me. But as is always the case with adventure, it’s striking to realize that my adventure will take place where these Native Americans live each and every day.

In essence, their everyday subsistence existence is my unique Alaskan adventure.

I have to keep that in mind.

Closing Chapter Peace Corps

After more than two years in Bolivia as a Peace Corps Volunteer and on the brink of my return to the United States, I took a moment to look back on that service and do my best to put such an indescribable experience into words.  Here it is.  JMG

Closing Chapter Peace Corps

By James Gore

October 2005

I sit here, swaying in this chicken-shit stained hammock, rocking beneath a tree they call “Paradise” that lost all of its leaves during the last freeze.

The sun shines overhead, yet an icy, wet wind continues to cut through this skelitonesque growth, burrowing through clothes, skin, and into bones.

With the recent appearance of the sun, we’ve had a new hatching of Mosquitos, and despite my 100% Deet-doused clothes, these flesh hunters fly in and steal little bites of the Gringo, leaving behind red dots and a psychotic itch as proof of their success.

I have but a few short weeks left here in Bolivia; a few short weeks left to power through the last of my projects; a few short moments left to reflect on what it is that I’ve learned through riding out both the triumphs and failures offered during this ‘service’ to Bolivia, to the USA, and to myself.

I think about the entirety of it all.

It’s far too much to touch with words.

I think about this service, and this country, and how they both seem to push our most delicate buttons.

How they teach us exactly what we most desperately need, yet find so difficult, to learn.

For some it’s patience…
The patience it takes to let life develop at a pace contrary to the speed and efficiency that we’re accustomed to back home; to shrug our shoulders at the fact that no matter how many contingencies we take into account, the event always starts late.

For others it’s force…
The force; the push needed to insure that the Bolivian to-do list doesn’t become the never-to-be-done list, because as we all know far to well, “en un ratito” can easily turn into “mañana”, “la próxima semana”, “el otro mes”, “el año siguiente”, or even the dreaded “nunca.”

For yet others of us it’s the realization, the brutal reality, that so many of our lofty, idealistic goals for saving Bolivia have instead converted into the grounded, realistic understanding that while we can help, the only ones who can truly save Bolivia are in fact Bolivians.

Some of us must learn to affront a life surrounded by campo drunkenness.

Some must learn to swallow the pride it takes to be a community wide ‘volunteer’, by working for the greater good, even if that means working alongside people that we neither respect nor like.

Others of us, on the contrary, must learn to stand up and be assertive, for we learn that one can only swallow so much pride before choking.

After over 2 years down here, all I can offer is a, “who knows”, in terms of the uniqueness of exactly what it is that this experience offers each of us. One thing I do know for certain is that although we can relate, no two Peace Corps experiences are the same, and therefore it’s better to offer solemn respect than harsh judgment towards each other.

Yes, this experience offers so many hard lessons, but in spite of these trials, we can’t forget about all that crazy fun, and sometimes the absurdity, that mixes its way into our communities and our lives down here.

This is a true adventure.
How many of us ever imagined dancing in Carnival alongside Quechua and Aymara?
Or night-galloping on a horse through the firefly riddled mountainside?
Or drinking tea and laughing with a little old lady who’s never left her pueblo and asks you, “how long to your country on horseback?”
Or having a curandero spit and blow smoke on your back while chanting in a native tongue to cure a spider bite?
Or simply just sitting up late at night underneath stars that gleam from a seemingly virgin sky?

This is a true adventure.
We stay here so much longer than just the initial dazzle.
We stay here to live and to learn and to help, not just as passive observers, but as members of the communities in which we serve.
We stay here long enough to know what it’s like for an initial annoying laugh to turn into a full-blown frustration.
We also stay here long enough to learn how to work with, or around, that frustration in order to get done what needs to be done.

I guess that’s why they call this kind of work development.

Development…day to day work…through both successes and failures.
Development…2 years of it now coming to a crescendo.

Coming close to the end oftentimes makes one look back to the beginning.

I think back onto various conversations I had before coming down here.

Some of them with those who were so supportive as to the courage and effort it took to take on this service.

Others with those who were absolutely convinced that Peace Corps Volunteers were merely lost souls determined to float around for two years in a place where they could escape both reality and responsibility.

One statement remains clear in my mind:

“What’s wrong with you? You’re just going down there to sit on a hammock and write poetry. Why don’t you stay in your own damn country and get a real job?"

Anyways, I laugh when I think, “if only he could see me now,” sitting here swaying on this hammock, shit-stained from the chickens that nest above in the now leafless tree that carries the name “Paradise;” trying to enjoy a slow rock despite the frigid wind and frenzied flurry of flesh biting bugs. Sitting here, having worked my skin into leather over these last two years by diving into a foreign culture and a foreign community while plunging into projects regardless of uncertainty, oddity, and doubt.

Yes, this is me, a Peace Corps Volunteer, sitting on a hammock and writing a poem.

Full after two years in the Bolivian countryside.
Respectful of what I’ve learned.
Fiercely proud of my work and my effort.
Hopeful for the future of Bolivia.
And full of respect for my fellow volunteers and the sacrifices they make.

I’d love to see some of those same skeptics keep quiet long enough to come down here and “escape” to “the easy life” and live “free of responsibility.” I’d like to see them work to be productive while enduring a parasite infested stomach and a community that thinks they’re spies.

We’re not just Peace Corps Volunteers…we’re development workers who strive for adventure.

We’re adventurers who both thrive and struggle through the entirety of an experience that could never be explained, but rather only lived.

The toughest job you’ll ever love…sure.
The toughest job you’ll ever respect…absolutely!

All my respect to all of you!

To those who are just beginning…go for it; it’s so damn worth it!

To those of you who are now neck deep in development…keep going, and don’t lose hope. Whatever it is, it will happen if you keep going; and if it doesn’t, at least that failure won’t ever result from a lack of effort on your part.

To my fellow group, the 19 of us who came down here together…well done, right on, and Godspeed! Here’s to successfully closing Chapter Peace Corps; and here’s to opening the next chapter into whatever it is that your heart desires.

You deserve to be proud!
Yippee kai yeah motha….!

To all the volunteers out there: respect given to all of you for your sacrifice and your wanderlust spirit.

Respect given to all of you for being here, living the adventure that most sit back at home pondering about. One thing that is absolutely absolute about the life down here: although this experience may travel up and down, left and right, over and under, around and even through, one thing that it has never and will never be…is boring.

What if…No.

What is!

Hasta luego amigos. ¡Que les vayan mas que bien!

Showing Up

SHOWING UP
By James Gore

Whether Democrat, Republican, or Independent we can all agree that politics in the United States have never been more toxic.

This toxin seeps into our systems as gerrymandered districts, closed primaries, and money-grubbing campaign finance laws. It pits the democracy created by "we the people" against the greater good of “we the people.”

It seeps into our minds, replacing reality with games and spin such as the “Blame the guy before me,” game, and the “I’ll only vote for it if my party created it,” game.

This toxin, it limits our ability to change things for the better. It keeps us mired in the struggle to be right rather than to do what is right.

While this toxicity is how we define the politics of the now, it is not how we will define the politics of our future – not if we the people show up, run our own country, and cure ourselves.

Excerpts from the Time Magazine Article, “Encountering Anguish and Anxiety Across America,” by Joe Klein.

I found this article insightful and real.  So, I removed a few of the most striking excerpts to post for your reading pleasure.  More writers and reporters need to get out of the confines of their desks and the internet, and do like Joe Klein did here - get out of the virtual America and into the real nation that resides within everyday Americans.

His writing on the discontents with Free Trade, the Financial Sector's disgraceful actions, and the image of multicultural America are especially interesting.

JMG

Full article available online at: http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,2024065,00.html

DISCONTENT WITH THE FINANCIAL SECTOR

...the disgraceful behavior of the financial community, and its debilitating effects on the American economy over the past 30 years, was the issue that raised the most passion, by far, in the middle of the country...This is not a new story — I've been covering factory closings since the 1970s — but it has picked up momentum over time, and a compelling narrative is beginning to emerge about the human carnage caused by arrogant financiers. The same bankers who did the leveraged buyouts of the 1980s and '90s, which sold local factories to national conglomerates, which in turn closed those factories and sent the jobs overseas — those same bankers turned to housing in the 1990s and 2000s, creating ridiculous mortgage products that encouraged people without the proper financial resources to buy homes they later defaulted on, causing the value of most middle-class housing to plummet. Everyone seems to "know" that now. The more sophisticated understand that homeownership was a program promoted by both Democrats — through government agencies like Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac — and Republicans. The most sophisticated understand that the financial community enriched itself obscenely by playing casino games with obscure, unregulated products like credit-default swaps, in which fortunes were made on tiny fluctuations in the value of those mortgages.

Freedom is Never Free

I had this sent to me in an email a few years back and came across it recently.  I think it is a profound testament to not just action, but to sacrifice.  I am constantly amazed at how many politicians use the founding fathers' legacy as a justification for their current policies.  I think we need more emphasis on honoring those who sacrificed for our freedom instead of using their legacy for political gain. 
JMG

Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence?

Five signers were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died.
Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned.
Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army, another had two sons captured.
Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War.

They signed and they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor. What kind of men were they?

Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists.
Eleven were merchants, nine were farmers and large plantation owners; men of means, well educated.

But they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured.

Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.

Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him, and poverty was his reward.

Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.

At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr., noted that the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt.

Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed. The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.

John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished. A few weeks later he died from exhaustion and a broken heart.
Norris and Livingston suffered similar fates.

Such were the stories and sacrifices of the American Revolution. These were not wild eyed, rabble-rousing ruffians. They were soft-spoken men of means and education. They had security, but they valued liberty more. Standing tall, straight, and unwavering, they pledged:

"For the support of this declaration,
with firm reliance on the protection of the divine providence,
we mutually pledge to each other, our lives,
our fortunes, and our sacred honor."

They gave you and me a free and independent America. Some of us take these liberties so much for granted...We shouldn't. So, take a couple of minutes and silently thank these patriots. It's not much to ask for the price they paid . . .

LET'S ALL REMEMBER THAT FREEDOM IS "NEVER FREE"!!!!

Uncovering America - The Colville Reservation

Uncovering America

By James Gore

ENTRY #1 – The Confederated Tribes of Colville Reservation

"Poverty is more about a cycle of despair and the disbelief that things can get better than it is about the amount of money you have, or don't, in your pocket."  Brian Patterson – Oneida Tribe

Growing up in the United States, we learn about Native American history only within the context of history itself.   We learn about past injustices, including past massacres, past broken promises, and past relocations. 

Outside of school, the only glimpse offered of Native American life is through Hollywood and Casinos, neither of which cast any clarity on the lives of the original Americans still living in present-day America.

This myopic view shows that past generations achieved their goal of keeping the original North American’s away from America’s sight and trapped on out-of-sight-out-of-mind reservations.  Reservations just like the one I recently visited.

The Colville Reservation lies in North-Eastern Washington, in between Spokane and the Canadian Border.  During the week of October 18^th, I had the fortune to get out of Washington, DC and into the countryside of a far different Washington. 

A month before while at a conference in St. Louis, Missouri, Dick Gooby, the Executive Director of the Indian Nations Conservation Alliance (INCA) asked me to come out to see the Colville Reservation and meet with the Tribal Leadership.  In addition to my position with the Department of Agriculture, my background in the Vineyard industry was of interest to INCA and the Colville Leadership. 

I was told that this particular reservation, like many others around the United States, faced extreme levels of poverty and strife.  The description I was given shocked me: 

·         Sixty percent unemployment;

·         Ninety percent of the tribal income gone with the closing of two lumber mills in the past year;

·         Dangerously high levels of diabetes, teen pregnancy and gang violence;

·         Dangerously low levels of high school graduates, personal initiative, and hope.

After getting picked up at the Spokane Airport, Dick Gooby and I began the drive towards the small town of Grand Coulee and the Colville Reservation.  The two plus hour drive through wheat fields and small rural towns afforded me the opportunity to speak frankly with Dick about the Reservation and our upcoming meetings. 

Living in Washington, DC – in the land of know-it-alls – I have become a firm believer that the only way to learn is to first be open about your ignorance. I started by telling my host that I had never been to a reservation, didn’t have any experience with the challenges faced by Native American Communities, and wanted to learn and experience from as wide a spectrum as possible over the coming days.   

To Read entire story follow the below link:
https://docs.google.com/leaf?id=0BzOSmZ0UUErDZjg2MmM2NDgtODk1OC00M2RiLWFmMjItZWIyYTY4YjRmMGQ0&sort=name&layout=list&num=50

In the Arena by Theodore Roosevelt

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”