Category: Community

Labor-Managment Conflict in Blue-Collar America: The Caterpillar Strike in Joliet

Without Caterpillar Corporation, I probably wouldn’t exist.

Once upon a time, a Kansas farm boy (my grandfather) moved to central Illinois with some of his brothers to find work. He eventually caught on at Caterpillar in Peoria, where he became a union machinist — what he always called a “tool and die man.” He worked hard, got married, and started a family. Then around 1951, he was transferred to the brand-new Joliet hydraulics plant and moved here with his wife and two kids.

One of those children was my mother, then nine years old, who years later met and married my father — and just a few years afterward, I arrived on the scene. Hence my very existence depended upon, among others things, Grandpa getting that job at Cat.

I relate this family anecdote because when it comes to grappling with the meaning and significance of the current union strike at the Caterpillar plant in Joliet, now well into its fourth excruciating month, history matters. Personal connections matter.

Cat workers on the picket line (photo: Fox Valley Labor News)

In a working class town like this, where people from all walks of life have deep and sometimes tangled histories with the Joliet’s industrial past, labor disputes resonate. They’re not just abstract stories in the news about someone else somewhere else. They’re about us: our aspirations, our values, our prejudices, our sense of community.

As an Illinois citizen, I have a vested interest in Caterpillar remaining strong and vibrant. Its very identity is built from equal parts technological innovation, engineering expertise, and good old-fashioned hard work. Cat’s products and the myriad of jobs the company provides are important to Illinois’ economic vitality.

But as the grandson of a tool and die man, I also feel solidarity with the hundreds of striking machinists out on Route 6. In their rejection of Cat management’s offers of a new long-term work contract, Local 851 union members hardly are asking for the moon. What they’re putting themselves on the line for, rather, is the preservation of good blue-collar jobs within America’s embattled middle class.

Caterpillar management’s latest offer to the workers (up for a vote today) would freeze wages, double health care expenses, and cut into pension benefits. One shouldn’t forget that Cat has had a longstanding multi-tier pay schedule in place for union machinists, with those hired after May 2nd, 2005, getting significantly lower wages than older “Tier 1” workers. So-called “supplemental” machinists get paid even less than the Tier 2 folks. See a pattern?

Meanwhile, Caterpillar achieved record sales, revenues, and profits in 2011 — and its second quarter profits in 2012 are the highest in company history. Yet with labor contract talks at fits and starts, Cat is playing hardball by advertising for and hiring replacement workers, thereby taking advantage of high local unemployment conditions in which any job seems like a good job.

The Caterpillar labor dispute is thus a microcosm of the growing cultural conflict between the exaltation of corporate greed and self-interest (the market rules best) and the long-term viability of America’s working class (the people matter most).

Most folks agree that our country needs good manufacturing jobs with decent wages and benefits, that companies should play fair, and that employees should work hard. But how do we put those common values into practice? We’ll soon find out here in Joliet.*

* On Friday, just a few hours after this article appeared in the 17 August 2012 edition of the Joliet Herald-News, the striking machinists’ union voted to approve Caterpillar’s most recent contract offer, as reported here in the Chicago Tribune and other sources. Details about the vote totals were not released, but apparently it was close. Early analysis indicates that the union conceded on several key issues, including the doubling of health care premiums, the elimination of pensions, and a reduction in seniority rights.

A Tribute: Remarks at My Grandmother’s Funeral

If you had met Millie Bryson for the first time in the last few months of her life, it would have been easy to underestimate her. She was 98 years old, blind, hard of hearing, and increasingly forgetful. She lived in a humble and charmingly disordered house that hasn’t changed much over the last few decades. She moved around gingerly, by feeling her way along furniture and walls, and she slept a lot. One of the surest signs to me that she was finally slowing down in her late 90s was that she stopped following every inning of every game of her beloved Chicago Cubs.

But such observations would belie my Grandma Millie’s many accomplishments and talents, as well as the humor, passion, knowledge, and wisdom she shared over the course of her long and influential life.

First and foremost, Millie Bryson was a true force of nature possessed of both tremendous energy and a winning personality. Fiercely independent and strong-willed, she had a quick wit and delightful laugh — qualities she retained even after going blind late in life. And she was smart. A sharp thinker, an avid reader, a skilled crossword puzzle-solver, she had brains to go along with her impressive command of the English language.

Speaking of English, Gram was a stupendously energetic talker. She perfectly embodied the phrase “having the gift of gab.” In her prime, which lasted from the moment she started talking to well into her 90s, Gram could pretty much dominate any conversation she happened across. Once she became partly deaf in her later years, she could turn her hearing aids down low and happily keep on going and going without ever being troubled by an audible interruption.

I’ll never forget one summer when she was in her 80s and my wife and I drove her up north to Michigan for one of her final visits to the Bryson summer home. For about nine straight hours, she talked non-stop, including through the two meals we took along the way. I don’t think Laura and I spoke more than ten words the entire trip. After we arrived and the evening wore on, she began a violent and loudly percussive series of coughs and throat clearings that went on well into the middle of the night. “I don’t understand why my throat is so sore,” she said, much to our amusement. “I must have caught a little bug or something.”

Gram’s passion for conversation bespeaks her role as the oral historian of the family. She was the repository of family lore, and with her amazing memory could recite dialogue from a 1930s afternoon gathering word-by-word at the drop of a hat. Besides her vast knowledge of Bryson and Hicks genealogy, she possessed a seemingly limitless supply of fascinating family stories, as well as an arsenal of memorable sayings that usually surfaced spontaneously within the appropriate social context. A few chestnuts from these aphorisms include:

“First the worst, second the same, last the best of all the game.”

“Wish in one hand and spit in the other, and see which one gets filled up faster.”

“Why? You want to know why? Because the boat leaves Friday, that’s why.”

“What for, you ask? For cat’s fur, to make you kitten britches.”

Millie also was a terrific musician who was born into a musical family — her father, Leslie Hicks, played banjo and guitar in Charlie Formento’s Dance Band during the Depression years here in Joliet. Gram became an accomplished pianist who could sight-read expertly. She had a lovely alto voice and was equally at home singing in the church choir or directing it. She instilled a profound and lasting love of music within her family, and was a nifty dancer to boot.

Faith and church involvement were foundational to Gram’s life. Long a member of First Baptist Church on Joliet’s East Side, she was a founder and charter member of Judson Memorial Baptist Church on the West Side in 1955. For decades she was a respected leader in church affairs at Judson, particularly music, education, governance, and mission outreach. Millie played organ and piano, directed the choir, served as deaconess, taught Sunday School, raised money for mission work, led women’s Bible studies, and performed countless other services for the church community. She lived her faith through deeds more than words, and many of us benefitted from her example.

Gram was an amazing cook who was generous with her skills, knowledge, and recipes for those eager to learn (including my mother). Family dinners at her home on Oneida Street were legendary. She routinely prepared elaborate meals singlehandedly in her miniscule kitchen, and she was a skilled confectioner of pies, cakes, rolls, donuts, cookies, and a special chocolate sauce.

Besides her cooking, she was an expert seamstress. For many years she made her kids’ outfits as well as most of her own clothes. I have it on good authority that her embroidery work was nothing short of exquisite.

More significant than these many talents is that she stepped up when she was needed. As the Bryson matriarch and a beloved mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, Millie was utterly devoted to her family. For over two decades she took care of elderly relatives in her small home even as she raised her own children. Most people would find this difficult to do for 24 days, if not 24 hours — she did it for 24 years.

As that previous example shows, Millie often sacrificed her own comforts and conveniences for the sake of others. She could see the bigger picture and act accordingly. Consider that tiny kitchen I mentioned before. Back in 1960, she and my Grandpa Abe decided to use the money they had long saved for a kitchen expansion/remodel to instead purchase a small rustic cabin in the north woods of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. No-one could deny that a talented and hard-working cook like Millie surely deserved a bigger and better theater for her daily labors. But to my knowledge, she never regretted that decision for a second.

Ever since, the Bryson cabin at Crooked Lake has been a treasured vacation site for four generations of the Bryson and Laury families. And though she was city bred and couldn’t swim a stroke, Gram came to enjoy camping out, and learned how to handle a canoe in rough water and pitch a tent in the rain.

Speaking of dealing with adversity, Gram knew the meaning of devotion, heartbreak, and deferred gratification. By this I mean she was a Cub fan. I’m talking Hack-Wilson-is-your-favorite-Cub-of-all-time type of Cub fan. Gram dated her devotion to baseball to the summer of 1929, when she began hanging out with the menfolk at picnics listening to ballgames on the radio. It wasn’t very lady-like behavior according to some tongue-waggers, but Millie didn’t truck with convention if it didn’t suit her. She followed her beloved Chicago Cubs on the radio “through thin and thin,” as she often noted wryly — year after disappointing year, decade after excruciating decade, century after spirit-crushing century.

She borrowed this memorable phrase “though thin and thin” many years ago from her soon-to-be son in law of 50+ years — Everett Laury of Danville, Illinois — who uttered it upon meeting Millie at her house for the first time. From that point on, once she knew Ev was a fellow Cub fan, he was A-OK in her book. Another special moment in her baseball life was when Cubs radio announcers Pat Hughes and Ron Santo paid a lengthy tribute to her on the air during her 90th birthday. I’ll never forget the look on her face as she listened to their humorous patter, and then said, “Gee, that was dandy!”

Many times over the past few years, when I would bring my two daughters over to her house for a visit, Gram would say to me, “Oh, I don’t know why I keep hanging around so long. I’m just a burden to people. What do I have to live for at this point? Why am I still here?”

For me, the answers to her rhetorical questions came easy. To hear the Cubs play another game, and maybe, just maybe, win the pennant at long last. To share love. To teach us. To bring joy. To appreciate an earthly life well lived, and anticipate the eternal life to come.

Speech delivered at the memorial service for Millie Bryson (1914-2012) held at Judson Memorial Baptist Church, Joliet, IL. (pdf version)

Walking to Grandma Millie’s

Not long ago I walked with my kids from our home in Joliet to my Grandmother Millie’s house to pay her a friendly visit. The distance is nine-tenths of a mile: long enough for me to get a little exercise, but not so far that my young kids can’t handle it.

Every time I make that walk, I reflect on how lucky we are to live in such close proximity to Gram; and how fortunate it was for me growing up here in Joliet, where I could walk or bike to both of my grandparents’ homes. I often zipped over to Grandma Millie’s in the summer to help Grandpa in his garden, then eat cookies and quaff Dr. Pepper while listening to the Cubs game with Gram.

Grandma Millie with my two girls, Lily and Esmé (June 2012)

These days, urban planners rightly extol the virtues of walkable neighborhoods, where people can stroll from their homes to the post office, train station, school, grocery store, barbershop, and park.

Yet in most American communities, walking is an endangered pastime. Consider the contemporary perversity of driving half a mile to the health club to run five miles on a computerized treadmill. Alternatively (and far more cheaply), I just look for any practical excuse to go walking — like my grandparents did in their day.

Gram was a champion walker most of her life, though it wasn’t always so. As a teenager living on Joliet’s West Side during the Roaring Twenties, she was dropped off at Joliet Township High School downtown by her doting father on his way to work. She wore high-heeled shoes to school and was pleased as punch about it.

A collage of “Gigi” (Great-Grandmother) Millie through the years, created by my wife Laura and daughter Lily for one of Lily’s school assignments in 2010

But then she met Abe Bryson, the son of a laborer whose family was always two steps ahead of poverty. Since his family couldn’t afford a car, Abe walked everywhere — including when he took his stylish new girlfriend Millie out on a date, or gallantly carried her across a muddy cornfield to keep her shoes and stockings clean.

When she once groused after hiking downtown to a Joliet ice cream parlor, he looked down at her feet disapprovingly and said, “Well, maybe you should get yourself a decent pair of shoes, Mil.” Sufficiently smitten with his charms, Gram wasn’t about to let Abe walk out of her life on account of, well, having to walk. So she got some good sensible shoes, and their relationship blossomed.

My grandparents’ walking habits during their courtship and young marriage in the Great Depression would stagger a typically slothful American these days. They thought nothing of walking from Reed Street on the West Side all the way to Pilcher Park on the East Side (over five miles) and then hiking the park’s trails before taking a streetcar home. On Saturday mornings, they’d hoof across the river to deliver my Great-Grandmother Bryson’s home-made donuts to her regular East Side customers.

The announcement of my grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary in the Joliet Herald-News

98 years old and blind, Gram’s just about done with walking. Hobbled with a recent hip injury and in the twilight of her life, she’s mostly confined to her bed. But up until recently, she had gingerly moved through her little house, feeling her way along, getting her exercise the best way she knew: walking.

Now that her high-stepping days are finally done, I sense she’s preparing for that last long walk home — the place we all walk to someday.

This essay is an edited version of my monthly op-ed column which appeared as “‘Grandma Millie’ Sets Pace for the Family” in the 12 July 2012 edition of the Joliet Herald-News. My current residence in Joliet is walking distance from my childhood home, which is the very house where my Grandma Millie grew up after my great-grandparents built it in 1925.

To learn more about my Grandma Millie, I highly recommend this interview conducted by my then-eight-year-old daughter, Lily, one day in May of 2010 in Gram’s kitchen (pdf).

City Creatures Retreat at the Indiana Dunes (Pictures and Random Thoughts)

A marsh within the Calumet River watershed in the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore
A marsh within the Calumet River watershed in the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore

I’ve never been invited to a writer’s retreat before (not to mention a writers and artists retreat), and despite long anticipation and careful planning for this one, I almost didn’t get to go to this one when my spouse took ill and the kids needed tending. Thank goodness for CHN retreat organizer and all-around problem-solver Gavin Van Horn’s wisdom and quick decision-making, as he called me up and said, “Bring the girls along.”

I’m glad I did, as we had a terrific time — and I’m grateful to Gavin’s wife Marcie, who generously and graciously volunteered to watch my children during the times when I was occupied with fellow participants in wonderful discussions about our forthcoming City Creatures project.

For me the retreat had a number of highlights. Some of them were formal, in the sense that they were on the planned agenda — like the splendid hike through the wetlands of the Great Calumet Marsh on Friday led by Ron and Joan Engel, who escorted us along some of their favorite biodiversity-rich trails in the Dunes back-country; the lovely reception hosted by the Engels at their beautiful home in Beverly Shores (which surely has the best home study/library I’ve ever seen); the delightful dinner at Sage restaurant in Chesterton; and the “soundwalk” excursion we took in Gary on the grounds of the Paul Douglas Environmental Learning Center at the western end of the National Lakeshore.

Joan and Ron Engel, with Steve Packard

But the less-scripted elements of the retreat held many delights, as well. I became pals with a conservationist and writer I much admire, Stephen Packard, who rode in my car from field site to field site, and delighted my children with his funny stories, endless questions, and brilliant bird call imitations. At one point on our way to the soundwalk field trip, I deliberately got us lost (no, really!) so I could listen to the end of a story that involved “mucking about” a salt marsh on Cape Cod; the ensuing delay was worth it. I met some old friends but also made a bunch of new ones among a group of immensely talented and utterly fascinating people. And I learned a lot about what our collective project is aiming for, and had time and encouragement to think about how my small contribution fits into the bigger picture.

Lea Schweitz holds an opossum mandible

My two girls, Lily (age 10) and Esmé (age 5), had fun cavorting with Gavin’s 5-year-old son Hawkins, and they got a kick out of our field hikes, too. During our marsh walk, we had  several great kid discoveries: Steve Sullivan found the mandible of an opossum; Steve Packard found some eggshell fragments, still soft and pliable, from a turtle; and we all admired a large beaver lodge and the abundant nearby evidence of busy-ness on the part of this intrepid wetland mammal and fellow water engineer.

On our Saturday morning hike, I was initially concerned that my chatterbox children would fill the “soundscape” with their songs, stories, and sisterly bickering and thus necessitate my hanging back from the group. Turns out I greatly underestimated them. Lily hiked ahead with the grown-ups, while Esmé and I lollygagged with the renowned naturalist and writer Joel Greenberg, who happily pointed out flowers and identified bird calls for us. Esmé got a nosebleed for no apparent reason, but rather than crying or complaining, she just asked me for tissues until it stopped, and kept trudging along behind Joel and looking at everything he noted.

At a rest stop on our soundwalk, listening to the marsh and woods

The best part of that wonderful hike was when we ascended a hill about two-thirds of the way along the circuitous trail we were following, and stopped for a long listen. Here in the Dunes there’s lot of sand, of course, and this summit we were on was like a big sandbox. As we naturally formed a circle to listen, observe, and talk quietly about what we were experiencing, the girls just played quietly in the sand.

We watched them, too, and I couldn’t help but think about how our project — about connecting with nature and, more specifically, the non-human animals within the urban and suburban environment of the Chicago region — is also, ultimately, about nurturing an ethic of stewardship and love of nature in our children.

Esmé holds a piece of turtle eggshell; Gavin shows another to Hawkins

It had been way too long since I had been to the Dunes. This was a splendid excuse to return to that special landscape, and to introduce my kids to some of its treasures. It was also an inspiring way to begin our work on City Creatures.

I’m looking forward to future gatherings with these new friends and colleagues. I wonder what critters, or the leavings thereof, we’ll come across on our ensuing explorations?

Last Workday this Spring at Chicago Lights Urban Farm

Last Wednesday, May 2nd, was a bittersweet day in my SUST 350 Service & Sustainability class at RU. Since March 21st we had convened every Wednesday afternoon at 3pm at the Chicago Lights Urban Farm in the Cabrini-Green neighborhood of Chicago. For our first hour we’d discuss the week’s readings and then have student-led “farm reports” on urban agricultural operations across the US. Then we’d put away our books and grab some tools to work from 4-5:30pm doing whatever farm chores needed doing that day. During this latter part of our class sessions, we labored side by side with several Growing Power staff and the neighborhood teens who work as Youth Corps job interns here during the school year and summer.

Front, L to R: Maria, Beeka, Allison, Natasha. 2nd row: Brian, Lauralyn, Mary, Alex, Eleanor, Josh, Steph,Toni. Back row: Terry, Joe, Sean, Steven, Conor, Martinez, Jonathan. Not pictured from RU: Keith and Mike (Photo by M. Bryson)

In the process we began to get the rudiments of a working knowledge of the half-acre urban farm here at the corner of Hudson Street and Chicago Avenue in this rapidly gentrifying neighborhood that is still home to many poor and working-class citizens, despite the demolition of most of the Cabrini-Green public housing in the area. (The original Cabrini rowhouses remain just to the north of the farm, though their fate is uncertain.) We learned how to turn over and then utilize compost; appreciated the basic mechanisms of vermicomposting (using worms to break down organic waste and produce nutrient-rich soil consisting of worm castings); mastered the art of handling a power drill; and depended upon the value of teamwork when it comes to weeding, hoeing, raking, shoveling and hauling wood chips, repairing compost bins, and picking up litter.

The Compost Crew (for that day, anyway) — L to R: Josh, Sean, Mike, and Joe (photo by A. Mayes)

The past couple of weeks, workers at the farm (including us) have been chipping away at a major construction project: a new hoop house to accompany the one now standing near the middle of the farm property.

Last week we made major strides toward that goal, as we helped finish the wooden foundation/frame of the structure and secured it to the ground. Some of us put together lengths of strong but lightweight aluminum poles (itself a simple yet tricky process to get right without injuring a finger), then cut them to length.

Brian Ellis, one of Growing Power’s urban farmers and a super-cool guy. Stick with this man and you’ll learn stuff!
Maria, Conor, and Lauralyn secure the two pieces of aluminium pipe for each of the hoops. This is tricky work getting those self-tapping metal screws into a rounded surface cleanly and securely! (photo by A. Mayes)
L to R: Alex, Brian, Eleanor, Lauralyn, Monique, Mike (in background), Terry, Conor, and Steven. You can see here how the pole comes out bent from the jig. (Photo by A. Mayes)

Finally, in the waning minutes of our semester in the late afternoon, we bent two of the poles using a special wooden jig in a well-choreographed ballet of pushing and steadying, and then mounted one of the hoops at the west end of the house. A great cheer went up when this happened, and I felt it a fitting moment on which to conclude our semester: for even as we enjoyed this sense of accomplishment, we knew that the job was far from done. As we said our goodbyes and dispersed in separate directions back to school or home, our Growing Power Youth Corps compatriots at the farm began taking over right where we left off.

Looking west at the site of the new hoop house, as we set the first pole. This is a fitting coda for our semester, suggesting future journeys and work yet to be completed. There’s something wonderful about making an arch at an urban farm in the middle of Chicago — the great 19th century urban center of what was then called the West, according to environmental historian William Cronon in his 1991 book “Nature’s Metropolis.” (Photo by A. Mayes)

That’s yet another great thing about this service learning experience: it doesn’t end here, even though our spring semester is nearly over. The Chicago Lights Urban Farm welcomes volunteers every Saturday from 10am to 4pm, and I know many of us will return to this friendly and welcoming spot to do some more work with our new friends. As for me, I’m already looking forward to setting up v2 of this course next spring, for it’s the hope of the Sustainability Studies program at Roosevelt to cultivate a long-term relationship with the Chicago Lights and Iron Street urban farms here in the City of Big Shoulders — now one of the great urban agricultural frontiers of North America.

Special thanks go to many people, including:

  • Natasha Holbert, director of the Chicago Lights Urban Farm, who was instrumental in the planning for SUST 350, and who provided valuable insights and enthusiastic guidance to us every step of the way;
  • Lauralyn Clausen (Education and Curriculum Coordinator and Youth Corps Co-Instructor) Brian Ellis (Youth Corps Co-Instructor), Malcolm Evans (Farm Assistant), and Laurel Simms (Chicago Production/Marketing Manager and Farm Educator) — the Growing Power urban farmers in Chicago who led our daily work sessions, imparted their knowledge, and made us feel welcome from the get-go;
  • The Youth Corps job interns (Deja, Henry, Ivory, Jonathan, Kyra, Monique, Quentin, Rayshard, Rayshaun, Sam, and Toni) with whom we worked, joked, and took some cool field trips to Milwaukee and the Chicago River;
  • Amy, our phenomenal tour guide at Growing Power’s Milwaukee farm site;
  • Erika Allen, director of Growing Power’s Chicago operations across the city and National Outreach Manager, whose visionary leadership is helping make Chicago a greener and healthier city;
  • The faculty and staff of Roosevelt University’s Mansfield Institute, who supported this course will a Transformational Service Learning grant;
  • And last but not least, my students who were curious enough to sign up for the inaugural section of this class, who worked hard inside and outside of the classroom from Week one through fourteen, and who had no problem handling worms or getting dirty (in fact, I think they rather enjoyed it!)

Here’s to a splendid growing season this summer and a record-breaking harvest next fall!

For an up-close look at our last workday at the farm this spring, check out this online photo album of our last workday (pictures by SUST major Allison Mayes and yours truly).

Growing Power’s Urban Farm in Milwaukee

For its first field trip experience this spring, my SUST 350 Service & Sustainability class on urban agriculture, social justice, and community development ventured up Lake Michigan’s western shoreline to the great city of Milwaukee. Our destination was the flagship urban farm operation of Growing Power, the non-profit urban ag enterprise established in 1995 by pro basketball player-turned-urban farmer Will Allen.

Growing Power's flagship farm location in Milwaukee

Since the mid-2000s, Growing Power has expanded its operations to several sites in Chicago, including the Chicago Lights Urban Farm (CLUF) in Cabrini-Green, which is the service learning partner organization / work site for our SUST 350 class this semester.

Our objective in visiting Growing Power’s Milwaukee location was to get a hands-on introduction to one of the most celebrated sustainable urban farm operations in the US. We began our day with a picnic lunch at our urban farm site in Chicago, where we broke bread with CLUF/Growing Power staff and Youth Corps high school student interns. Then, we piled into a rented school bus and headed up to Growing Power’s site on Milwaukee’s Northwest Side, where we got a superb and information-packed 90-minute tour of the entire two-acre facility by Amy, a tour facilitator and full-time employee of the farm.

Growing Power is an example of a hybrid urban farm that is focused on developing sustainable urban farming practices in the production of vegetables (especially baby greens salad mixes), fish (primarily tilapia), animal products (goat milk and meat, eggs and poultry), and compost.

Growing trays in greenhouse #1

Their food is sold to area restaurants, at the Growing Power on-site farm stand, and at various “Market Basket” locations in Milwaukee where fresh food is hard to find. All of their growing soil is produced on-site by a sophisticated and large-scale composting system, which includes an impressive vermiculture operation that uses worms to process plant “waste” into nutrient-rich soil. Growing Power is a pioneer is using closed-loop cultivation systems in which wastewater from the aquaponic fish-growing tank flows through hydroponic plant beds, where various vegetables and flowers take up the excess nutrients from the water; the cleansed water is then returned to the aquaponics tanks, to start the cycle again.

Here, perfect soil is created by worms. Dirt is the great equalizer, the foundation of agriculture -- no matter one's race, color, or creed.
Aquaponic tank, replenished by water filtered by the hydroponically-grown plants in the upper level

The farm also harvests renewable energy from several solar panel arrays, and uses the heat bio-generated from interior composting bins to warm its several large greenhouses and significantly reduce heating costs during the cold Wisconsin winters.

For a more detailed account of our group’s tour, check out the field trip notes taken by Maria Cancilla of our SUST 350 class at the pdf link below and the photos I took of our tour. Also see Growing Power’s website for a wealth of information about the farm as well as virtual tours of its facility.

Growing Power Tour Notes 2012-03-24 (pdf)

Growing Power’s Milwaukee and Chicago facilities are prime examples, but by no means the only ones, of the burgeoning urban farming movement in cities and suburbs across North America. Students in this inaugural section of SUST 350 in Roosevelt’s Sustainability Studies program are working on a community-based research project about the Cabrini-Green neighborhood’s history, present assets, and future prospects. Two-thirds of our class meetings take place at the Chicago Lights Urban Farm in Cabrini-Green, a half-acre urban farm that began as a small community garden built atop a derelict basketball court in 2002. Here we are working side-by-side with Youth Corps teenage interns from the neighborhood to work compost, weed planting beds, harvest seeds from last year’s crops, build a new hoop house, and do whatever else needs to be done in the farm’s early spring work season.

This farm is an inspiring example of how sustainable agriculture in inner-city neighborhoods can contribute to positively to the physical environment, economic activity, educational opportunities, and social fabric of its community. Its example can be a spark for imagining other urban farming projects that could be implemented in underserved communities throughout the greater Chicago region — such as my hometown of Joliet, IL, located 40 miles southwest of Chicago’s Loop.

Vermiculture compost bins inside a greenhouse at Growing Power
The production of compost at Growing Power's 2-acre site is incredible; we called this pile "Mount Compost"
Our group from Roosevelt University and the Chicago Lights Urban Farm

Summer Internships: Sustainability in Chicago’s Communities

This semester my SUST 210 honors class is working on a community-based research project in collaboration with the Chicago non-profit organization, The Institute for Cultural Affairs, based in Uptown. Along with students from several other Chicago colleges and universities, we are researching and mapping sustainability initiatives throughout each of the city’s 77 community areas. The work continues this summer, so the ICA is seeking motivated and interested students for 40 unpaid internships on this tremendous and valuable city-wide project. Here are the details! — Mike Bryson

Application deadline now extended to Monday, April 16, 2012

The ICA Summer Internship Program, “Accelerate 77” is an opportunity for undergrad and graduate students to participate in preparations for the September 15, 2012 Share Fair event that will highlight, connect and accelerate local sustainability initiatives at the community level throughout Chicago neighborhoods. During the 2011-2012 academic school year, 180 students from six Chicago-based universities have participated in the first phase of the Accelerate 77 project by doing fieldwork in 54 of the 77 Chicago community areas. This summer, students will have the opportunity to take the Accelerate 77 project to the next level developing their skill-set through hands-on community based projects and acquiring skill in facilitation and enabling participatory group processes.

This spring ICA will be interviewing for 40 intern positions – flexing the program timetable between June and August.  The positions range from:

*  community documentation and engagement of sustainable initiatives,
*  designing and planning the September 15th event celebrating the 231 initiatives (three initiatives from each of the 77 communities),
*  marketing and public relations for the Accelerate 77 project and share fair event, and
*  website support for the community documentation, interchange and post-event collaboration.

Out of the 40 intern positions, the program will offer eight students an intensive leadership development course that will provide hands-on experience of co-leading teams in collaboration with eight ICA resource guides.

More information on leadership development opportunities and the Accelerate 77 project can be found at this page on the ICA website.

Application deadline: Monday, April 9, 2012

For more information, check out these documents:

Nina Winn
ICA Program Coordinator
nwinn@ica-usa.org
Office:  773.769.6363, ext 301

Karen Snyder
ICA Volunteer and RU alum
snyder@consultmillennia.com
Home office: 773.506.2551
Cell: 773.758.2551

Who’s Funnier — Jerry Seinfeld or the Joliet City Council?

Two weeks ago my wife and I took a rare break from our humdrum lives as sleep-deprived and chore-obsessed parents of small children, and indulged ourselves in a night’s entertainment at Joliet’s historic Rialto Theatre, which for one glorious and side-splittingly hilarious evening hosted comedian Jerry Seinfeld for two high-profile performances.

The Rialto Theatre, Joliet IL, c. the late 1920s (Photo: Legends of America)

When tickets for Seinfeld’s appearance went on sale several weeks ago, the town buzzed with excitement at the prospect of the wise-cracking New Yorker gracing my hometown’s most fabulous stage. I should know, since I stood in line mighty early to get fourth row tickets for my wife’s birthday present.

Such was the overwhelming demand for the show that later that day a second performance was announced — and its tickets sold like hot cakes, too. On performance night, the Rialto brought well over 3,500 people into downtown Joliet ready to have some laughs and spend money — a fact to be noted with some measure of respect.

I should elaborate. Random readers from outside the area might harbor the mistaken impression that as the fourth-largest Illinois metropolis, Joliet possesses a vibrant downtown nightlife scene.

Shockingly, though, this is not the case. As we natives well know, about the most glitz and glamour you’ll get downtown on non-Rialto performance nights is the flashing blue light emanating in a menacing Big Brother-like fashion from the Homeland Security cameras mounted on buildings throughout the city’s central district.

That’s why we need people like Seinfeld to come to town occasionally, jazz up the scene, and make us forget temporarily that we live in such a sleepy, quiet, middle of the road, surveillance-camera-infested place. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

But now that the raucous laughter from Seinfeld’s routine has died down, we should contemplate something far less funny. With about $7 million more in reserves within the overall 2012 budget projections than previously estimated during the summer, the City Council still cut $100,000 of its support for the Rialto and $166,000 more from other local arts organizations — specifically, the Billie Limacher Bicentennial Park (which hosts community theater and other events at its indoor auditorium and outdoor stage) and the Joliet Area Historical Museum.

Consider that hundreds, if not thousands, of Rialto patrons that night went out to dinner (and/or to the casino) before or after the shows and fed generous wads of their hard-earned money to the local economy. I can testify that we enjoyed a phenomenal meal at a downtown establishment that was absolutely hopping during “wave two” of Rialto-stimulated business.

The auditorium at the Rialto (Photo: Legends of America)

Consider that instead of mocking our nightlife-challenged burg, Seinfeld took pains to declare sincerely that the Rialto is one of the most beautiful and glorious performance venues he has ever played. (And does anyone seriously think he would come to Joliet were the Rialto not here?)

Finally, consider which is funnier: a Jerry Seinfeld stand-up comedy performance, or the three-ring circus of Joliet’s ongoing 2012 budget deliberations?

This is a revised version of my regular op-ed column that appeared as “Lack of Support for Rialto No Laughing Matter” in the 10 November 2011 issue of the Joliet Herald-News (p15). The Joliet City Council continues to work on the 2012 budget, and as of Wednesday, Nov. 9th, was considering a forensic audit going back twenty years.

Get on Your Bike

A few weeks ago marked the summer solstice, and I venture the following exhortation as we relish (or endure) this season of heat and long days.

We need to get out of our cars and get back on our bikes. Few things you do this summer will be better for your mind, body, and spirit.

Whether you’re a twenty-something or a senior, bikes are low-impact exercise machines that folks of all ages can use safely and pleasurably. My five-foot-tall arthritic Grandma Dorothy, bless her departed soul, rode a three-wheeler well into her seventies. And my spry 71-year-old father just got out his 1950s-era English road bike — the same one he rode through Joliet as a teenager — and started cruising again. Dad, I salute you!

Don’t have a bike? Just get one. Try a garage sale, where bikes abound; or even a neighbor’s garage, where I once scored a dusty vintage Schwinn Varsity ten-speed for fifty bucks. I’ve already put hundreds of miles on this classic and fully expect to be riding it for the next thirty years.

Feeling cheap? In case you haven’t noticed, gasoline is no bargain. For the price of a few fill-ups, you can get a very good bike at a local establishment and soon recoup your investment hand over handlebar. After that, you’re saving money every time you ride.

Old bike need a tune-up beyond oiling the chain and inflating the tires? If you’re not up to doing it yourself, take it to your local repair shop, get the job done right, and feed our hometown economy rather than the multinational oil production/pollution complex. (Yes, I’m liberal, but I’m also patriotic.)

Beyond these undeniably compelling reasons to get on your bike is something intangible but no less important: the experience of riding.

On a bike, life is palpably different. You feel the wind and sun. You breathe fresh air instead of recycled, air conditioned exhaust. Out of necessity, you pay attention to your surroundings. You use your muscles — remember them? — and challenge yourself physically. You glide by queued-up cars and see envious glances from the imprisoned drones therein.

On a bike you discover new ways to travel to your favorite places — back streets and bike paths where car traffic is lighter and life moves more slowly. You say hello to people working in their yards or to kids playing on the sidewalk, and in return get a smile or a friendly wave. In the process you start to see your community in a much different way — and, I would humbly suggest, a much better way.

Dear readers, I therefore beseech thee: get on your bikes! If you do, be sure to check back with me at the autumnal equinox and let me know how your summer went.

The essay, one of my monthly op-ed pieces for the Joliet Herald-News, was originally published as  “See Joliet, Will County by Bicycle” on 23 June 2011.