Tag: Economics

Reading a history with your own hand in the game

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Here we are, Thanksgiving Day, and I’m finally getting around to my reactions to Nathaniel Philbrick’s 2006 hit, Mayflower: Voyage, community, war.

Admittedly, having examined some of the period he covers, from the origin of the faithful and their sailing in 1620 through their struggles up to 1677, but from the settlements north of Boston, I come at the book from a different perspective than most readers. I appreciate his efforts to present the Separatists – the term he settles on rather than “Pilgrims” – as distinct from the Puritans who would invade New England a few years later. I also appreciate his emphasis on the non-members of the faith who participated in the Plymouth Colony settlement as well as the heavy financial burden the enterprise carried, which are details I develop more briefly in my own volume, Quaking Dover: How a counterculture took root and flourished in colonial New Hampshire.

What struck me in my reading was how little awareness Philbrick conveyed regarding the activities not just on the Piscataqua watershed, the center of my book, but north of Boston in general, including Salem, especially in the years before the Puritan influx. Sir Ferdinando Gorges, whom I see as the godfather of New England, is not even mentioned, though he and his investors were active behind the scenes in England. The Piscataqua venture was a source of food for the desperate Plymouth settlement and provided twice as much funding for anti-piracy efforts, among other things.

Philbrick, not surprisingly, takes a conventional gloss on Thomas Morton and the Merrymount settlement without noting that its roots were in Devonshire folkways, not just in personal eccentricities. Dismissing him as “a jolly down-on-his-luck lawyer from London” overlooks the argument that the settlement was thriving and apparently more successful, economically and as an attraction, than Plymouth.

Philbrick’s examination of the attempted Wessagussett settlement as a Plymouth satellite clarified some of the events for me, since it falls between Plymouth and Dover as the oldest permanent settlements in New England. I am also glad that he included the struggles and near devastation of the Jamestown settlement for perspective. The Virginia colony, like the Mayflower, tends to be romanticized in the public eye. The gritty realities need to be spotlighted, too.

He acknowledges the second ship to the Plymouth settlement, the Fortune, in the fall of 1621, which doubled the population of the colony as well as its growing pains. The next ships, the Anne and Little James, arrived in the summer of 1623, but only one is named, briefly. I follow their impact through immigrant William Hilton, the brother of the founder of Dover, New Hampshire, and a Fortune passenger. His wife and children came on the Anne. Though he’s often erroneously identified as co-founder, he didn’t arrive north until he was ejected from Plymouth after he and his wife had a child baptized by the Anglican John Lyford, an event that triggered events that Philbrick briefly notes. I am now wondering if Lyford later, in 1628, performed the first Anglican wedding in New England, the one uniting Samuel Maverick and the widow Amias Cole Thomson on an island in Boston Harbor. That, too, weaves back to my book.

Within the period covered in Mayflower, Quakers were making inroads into the Plymouth colony, though Philbrick makes only fleeting reference to the persecutions led by the Puritans.

While he goes into great detail regarding the Pequot War and the one after, known as King Philip’s, he makes no mention of the mock war games in Dover in 1676 that sent an estimated 400 or more Natives into captivity and is often credited as bringing the King Philip’s conflict to an end. Some were hanged but many, women and children, especially, were sold into slavery and exported.

Still, he develops a much more complex understanding of conflicts among the varied tribes and their leaders than is usually seen. The concept of a unified “Indian” front quickly crumbles away.

I’m also interested in the Winslow lines that left Plymouth, including those who came to the Piscataqua region about the time William Hilton did and others who joined with Dover Friends in establishing a Quaker presence in what eventually became Greater Portland, Maine.

For southern New England, the closure of King Philip’s War, where Philbrick’s book ends, essentially ended the conflicts with the First Peoples. Not so in the north, where fresh outbreaks would hammer on for decades, abetted by the forces of New France, ending only with the Treaty of Paris in 1763.

Upstairs, downstairs

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

I don’t mind social class distinctions as much as the imbalance of wealth in the hands of a few individuals in contrast to real labor done by the majority of the populace. That is, the superrich versus the people working in jobs that directly touch people.

The monetary rewards are definitely out of whack.

And the ensuing corruption isn’t helping.

Are they really vain expenditures?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Upon graduation from college, in my social-activist period, I wondered how American society could possibly afford High Art while so many went hungry and homeless – domestically as well as internationally. Then I began to see everywhere a desire for expressiveness – in every ghetto, the ghetto-blasters and Playboy, spreads, graffiti and blues bands. To say nothing of the influence of professional sport, to which nearly every ghetto youth seems to aspire. (And more than a few others.)

So opera and museums and other “Establishment” operations came to lose their exclusivity in my vision. Extravagant expenditures in those realms are overshadowed by big-league athletics sports for similar reasons and then by military budgets across much of the globe.

See how much each person needs to reach into the realms of thought and imagination – the spirit; anything less reduces our existence to nothing more than economics, impoverishing everyone in the society.

So I noted.

By the way, Versailles still offends me.

Price check alert

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

He promised lower prices. Here are ten you can bet will go up because of his promise of “lower taxes.”

  • Fuel. As in gasoline, diesel, and home heating oil. We pump and refine some in the United States, but not nearly enough to meet demand. When demand outstrips supply, as basic economics theory contends, prices go up. It’s part of what’s ironically known as a free market.
  • Coffee and tea. Imported and subject to new, stiff tariffs.
  • Vanilla. Ditto. Along with a lot of other spices and flavorings.
  • Chocolate. The beans are imported, as are some chocolate products. If you were considering cocoa as your new beverage of choice, think again.
  • Olives. Yes, we raise some, mostly California, but the U.S. is not in the top five olive-growing countries. Spain and Italy top that list. As for olive oil, which many fine cooks consider essential and which nutritionists tout as healthy? There will be suffering.
  •  Cars, SUVs, trucks, and parts. It’s a complex picture, but you can’t build new factories and hire and train workers overnight.
  • Electronics. Ditto.
  • Clothing. Check those labels. As for building factories and hiring and training workers? Once again, it won’t happen overnight.
  • Wine and spirits. Yes, we make these in the USA, too, but imports are major. There are no substitutes when it comes to discriminating tastes. And here’s another case of demand outstripping supply in a so-called free market.
  • Bananas. Most of them come from plantations in countries formerly controlled by American owners. You know, banana republics.

One place prices seem to be going down is stocks.

Lithium, in case you were wondering

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

It used to be considered a rare element, though as a budding young scientist I had a sample that arrived inside a blue box the size of cigarette pack that arrived in the mail one month. Included was a small yellow booklet with suggested experiments, not that I remember any of them. Gee, that was back in the ‘50s!

Today, of course, lithium has become a household name due to its special applications.

Here are ten considerations:

  1. In its pure state, it’s a soft, silvery-white metal, highly reactive and flammable, requiring careful storage. The lightest of metals, No. 3 on the periodical table of the elements, it can float on water, a quality it shares with sodium and potassium.
  2. It’s highly corrosive, tarnishes rapidly, and is hazardous to the touch.
  3. It’s soft enough to be cut with a knife and has a density comparable to pine wood.
  4. Lithium compounds are the heart of rechargeable batteries for laptops, cell phones, electric cars, and cameras, as well as non-rechargeable batteries.
  5. Industrial applications include lubricants, heat-resistant glass and ceramics, and iron, steel, and aluminum production.
  6. Medically, it’s used as a mood stabilizer, an antidepressant, and other mental health issues.
  7. It serves as a fusion fuel in thermonuclear weapons and is critical to the operation of many nuclear reactors. It’s also used in rocket and torpedo propellants.
  8. It colors some red fireworks and flares and is also used as an air purifier.
  9. Although found in rocks and brines in low concentrations, lithium has few deposits of commercial value. The largest reserves are in Australia, Chile, China, Argentina, Boliva, the Czech Republic, and Afghanistan. Maine is also optimistic about potential mining sites. As for economic value? Think of the next Saudi Arabia.
  10. It was an ingredient in the original 7 Up recipe.

Is anyone reflecting you or those you know?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Look in the public media around you and tell me where you see your life presented. Is there anywhere in TV shows, movies, advertising, magazines, newspapers, or novels that reflects life as you know it? Beyond that, is there anywhere that voices your aspirations and values? You know, where you want to be?

Writing this is a painful admission, but true. Somehow, though, I don’t picture myself in a typical suburban strip mall, either, no matter how often I’ve wound up there or been stuck in associated traffic.

What I do see, though, points to the reality that so much of what’s being presented and ingested is an escape from the daily grind. I don’t intend this as a judgmental stand, though I would counter it with the spiritual approach of trying to live in harmony with life as we encounter it in a specific place. Still, what I’m seeing generally rings hollow.

I’d issue a call for revolt but doubt that anyone would follow. Oh, well.

My, I didn’t expect to be hitting at the psychological malaise in the national soul, definitely not this quickly, but here we are. Just don’t hand me a cape and expect me to save anyone. I’m just a lowly writer, remember? Well, you could hand me a very dry martini (gin with an olive), but that would be my own favorite escape.

Now, to return more or less to the topic.

During my stint as a field representative for a major media syndicate, I called on newspaper editors in communities across 14 states. What struck me was how little sense their papers gave me of a unique local identity. There was rarely a distinctive voice in the generic mix. Maybe I’ll wax on some outstanding exceptions as a future post. I did try, mind you, to accomplish some of that where I was as an editor.

~*~

When I entered the workaday world, it was in the height of the hippie explosion, as well as the Vietnam quagmire and the first moonwalk and civil rights and, well, you could say generally everything was in flux and has remained so.

The pace of daily journalism, however, left me feeling there was so much change in the works that we were overlooking, especially in any in-depth way. For me, my impressions became fodder for fiction, which would allow me some leeway and definitely free me from footnotes and fact-checkers, not that I’ve veered from relating what I witnessed or even imagined as truthfully as I could, even with a degree of inventiveness and aspiration.

In that journey I wound up living in places that were outside of the big media spotlight, and what I faced ultimately differed from what was coming out of New York, Washington, Los Angeles, Chicago, San Francisco, or similar backdrops. My record reflected, I hope, just everyday folks who had to muddle on, best we could, in irreplicable circumstances of human progress or tragedy.

Ultimately, I tried to distill what I experienced from these unique viewpoints into novels that originated as “contemporary fiction,” though I’ve come to see the paradox of the label. Even without the scheduling conflicts of working a “day job,” I was caught in a time-delay of drafting and revising, even before trying to find publication. At the least, that would be a two- or three-year gap before a piece became public. Tastes and trends drastically change in that span. And here I am, shrinking from the crap shoot of fashion.

Or, now we are, decades later, perhaps trying to make sense of it all.

Not that I was alone. Every book author was running behind the frontlines where even the boldest got shot down, should they make it that far.

The consequence, quite simply, is that too much has gone unexamined beneath the superficial rush of what we once Baby Boomers and now creaky seniors and perhaps great-grandparents lived through, individually and jointly, from Watergate to today. No wonder things are such a mess. Look, kiddos, it wasn’t all our fault. Do note, I’m among those who wants to lend you a hand.

Mea culpa, then, though I’ve left some evidence of sorts to build on. Please stay in touch. That matter of “Don’t trust anyone over 30” was a brilliant slogan but ultimately BS.

As I’ve noted, we definitely needed elders. And so do you, on the frontlines now.

You can find my ebooks in the digital platform of your choice at Smashwords, the Apple Store, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Scribd, Sony’s Kobo, and other fine ebook retailers. They’re also available in paper and Kindle at Amazon, or you can ask your local library to obtain them.

There’s still a feast awaiting on this plate

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

As the calendar year ends, it’s fair to ask What’s Left in your own life as you move on for the next round.

In my novel, the big question is stirred by a personal tragedy, leaving a bereft daughter struggling to make sense of her unconventional household and her close-knit extended Greek family.

In the wider picture, she’s faced with issues that are both universal and personal.

For me, it’s somehow fitting that my most recent work of fiction returns to Indiana, the place where my first novel originated before spinning off into big city subways. The state is also home to more Hodsons than anyplace else in the world, as far as I can see, not that I’ve been back in ages.

What’s Left is one of five novels I’m making available to you for free during Smashword’s annual end-of-the-year sale, which ends January First.

Get yours in the digital platform of your choice, and enter the New Year right.

For details, go to the book at Smashwords.com.

 

Acid test environmentalist and poet: Wendell Berry (1934- )

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

My introduction to Berry came in reading his Long-Legged House while sitting on a gorgeous Navajo rug on the floor of the Ostroms’ contemporary home atop a wooded ravine in southern Indiana. It was a magical matrix, considering the story.

Berry was the embodiment of back-to-the-earth, having returned to his native Kentucky in 1964 and taking up farming by horse teams (or maybe mules). He did so to the consternation of colleagues in Manhattan who argued that he was just beginning to make a name for himself and that he’d lose his momentum and start writing sentimental verse about bluegrass.

Instead, he struck gold. His poems grew from real friendships and longstanding relationships. A bigger calling came in his environmental advocacy, especially as it expanded into real economics that countered the bean counters whose views neglected the value of parents, conservation, health, and the like. It even led him to a radical Christianity, including pacifism, and work with the Amish, where he met David Kline, whose weekly birdwatching columns were collected into a wonderful book, Great Possessions, which Berry helped shepherd to publication. (It’s about much more than birds, believe me. If you’re curious about Amish life, I’d suggest starting here.)

There’s something that’s much more life-affirming in Berry’s writing than in Robinson Jeffords’ strong but misanthropic nature poems from a generation earlier.

Berry had noted that his efforts at rebuilding the soil on his farm took 16 or 17 years to show signs of rebounding. It was something I later observed in our gardening in Dover, dealing with what my wife called Dead Dirt. Over the seasons, ours began to soften and then welcome earthworms and finally flowers and vegetables.

So it is with Berry’s pages.