The end of the food chain

Humans are deservedly described as occupying the "top of the food chain", in the sense that we are the ultimate predator and that our opposable thumbs and cranial capacity allowed us to communicate, fashion tools, form groups for mutual aid, and so on and so forth. But our cranical capacity, that ability to reason, has led to the ability to reason away common sense. But instead of making this yet another political entry, today I am touching on a basic need of human life. Food.

Here in Alaska we really, truly, are at the "end" of the food chain. Over 90 percent of the foods we have on our grocery stores shelves, in our kitchen cabinets, stashed in our pantry or otherwise squirreled away for future use, arrived via barge from the Lesser 48. Anyone who has been here since the 60s or 70s, might recall times when "the barges got lost" as the explanation why there were no fruits or veggies that week, or big empty spots on the shelves of the grocery stores.

As a child I knew this to be true, during our not too frequent treks into Fairbanks for supplies. My mother would sit down with a calendar and plan out three or four months worth of meals, and that is all we brought home-the little VW station wagon loaded to the hilt with boxes, kids and dog for the long drive home. We had fresh eggs for a few weeks, and other perishibles were treasured-fruits (oh yes, fruits! Apples and oranges and whatever was on sale, slightly unripe) fresh vegetables if there were any, etc. I recall clearly how sad we would be, when we ran out of the last of the fresh milk, and had to use boxed powder or canned. The end of the pantry supply always made for interesting eats the week before our next trip into town.....and sometimes we didn't have much at all.

My parents, not exactly farming stock, put in a sizeable garden one year-actually, my older sister did most of the spade work, turning over what I now know as perfectly rotten "soil" with the aim of growing some vegetables. I spent hours with my mother, crouched on my knees, beating clods of lawn free of that precious dirt, and tossing it into the wheelbarrow. Many hours of raking, more shoveling, smoothing, and then finally hilling and the row lay out before a single seed could be planted. We tended this garden carefully, and much excitement was felt when the first bits of our garden showed like-peas and radishes. Towards the end of the summer, the one long row of sugar snap peas became the neighborhood snack bar, as every kid would grab a handful of pods on their way by. Very fond memories, I have of that garden. Included is a vision of my mother, broom in hand, standing up to a cow moose and her calf who had made the mistake of wandering in for dinner....there she stood, in cotton print dress and apron, flat shoes, brandishing the broom and uttering words no mother should let her children hear ;) The moose lost, amazingly enough...and we only lost cabbages.

I have never forgotten going to the grocery store in Fairbanks (was it Foodland?) and finding no boxed cereal at all. I remember seeing nearly rotten vegetables on the displays, because the barge was late or was lost. I remember being hungry for things we did not have, and could not get. I remember how wonderful the taste of sun warmed morsels, plucked right from the plant and savored in our twilight evening hours...and teaching the little ones to wash off their baby carrots before they ate them, in the bucket at the end of the row. The explosion of flavor and sweetness in those pea pods, the tang of tomatoes, the crunch of lettuce and cabbage.....all things my son has learned and enjoys all summer long.

But the memories of being at the "end of the food chain" remain, and haunt me. We are one natural disaster away from chaos, more so than before as our population has exploded since the days when most had homestead gardens. We are one national challenge or executive order away from realizing this is an big way, in a hurry. We have a long list of issues that could arise, from an earthquake, a tsunami, volcanic eruption, North Korea (who is seriously rattling sabers today), a terrorist attack...and many others.

I garden, and plan to expand my small garden patch, so that when the food chain collapses, my family will have something to eat. Something that has not been shipped from the southern hemisphere, is not full of chemicals and pesticides and herbicides, has not been irradiated, picked by the cheapest labor available and shipped without COOL on the box. Something that is not mass produced and carries hidden disease within it, since I will literally have "hands on" control through seed germination, to seedlings in flats, to hardening off, to planting and tending, to harvest and storage. Some of my best summer hours are spent, sitting quietly in my greenhouse, enjoying the scents of growth and checking for the days' rewards-hidden ripe tomatoes, is that pepper ready to eat, and how are the cucumbers doing today :)

Can I grow all my family needs? No, my garden is way too small for that. Is it cost effective? Probably not, but the price of peace of mind is worth a lot. And when the food chain collapses, I will have some small measure of comfort in knowing that I can at least in part, provide for my family's most basic need.