Someone once told me “Oh you’re 22? Did you know you are supposed to be married by 23 and have the first of your two children by 25?” I just laughed that comment off at 22 and thought society projects the Betty homemaker image on us from the day we are born. No one ever told me growing up that I would have to fight like hell to hang on to what little fertility I have. No one never told me that at 27 I would lose a baby, under go a D&C that would leave my uterus punctured and scarred. No one ever told me that Asherman’s syndrome exists. Not even the surgeon at Allina told me that Asherman’s syndrome was a risk.
Then again the surgeon who did my D&C was so full of herself that she bragged “I’ve never punctured a woman in my 20 plus years of practicing medicine.” I remember telling her “don’t be so full of yourself, I am probably going to be the one you puncture.” With that sentence I jinxed myself and my fate was written on the wall. A fate I refused to succumb too. Two years ago a careless surgeon sealed my fate and took my fertility away. I’ve learned alot of scary things in the past few months. Things like if I were to carry a child to term my uterus could literally tare away or the baby could punch a whole in the uterine wall. If either of these things happened we would both be in serious trouble. Needless to say any pregnancy would be high risk.
As of right now I am single and have no prospects waiting in the wings. Sometimes I think being in a relationsip might make the decision to have the surgery easier. Then again I was without my partner on the day I had the original procedure. I have taken a lot of time to think about this and I can honestly say I am scared. Scared right out of my shoes. This procedure is a one time shot and there is a 50/50 chance for a successful outcome. I have a 50/50 shot of carrying a child to term one day. If the surgery doesn’t work I am without options. It’s hard for me to put my eggs in one basket when I know the odds. The odds are not in my favor, yet I have a small shred of hope that it will work.
I didn’t have a choice in this matter. It happened. Because of one careless surgeon my uterus is broken. Part of me wants to do everything I can to protect what I have left. Then again I think to myself “one day you just might be in a relationship or married. What if he wants children?” That question rings through my mind. They say its best to do the surgery now and not wait until I am ready to have children. If I waited not only will my dream be at stake, but his dream (who ever he is) would be at stake too. I do not want to be that woman who says “Yea we could have had a baby if ya know I had done the surgery when I was 29. I was single then, so oh well.” I have come to terms with my dream slipping away, however I will fight like hell to save the dream for whoever my future partner is. I just can’t think about today. I need to think about my future and how this will impact the rest of my life.
I have interviewed surgeon after surgeon and finally picked one. There are no do overs, there are no other options. I have to leave it up to fate and let lady luck ride. Hopefully she lands on red and I come out a winner.
They say it takes a village to raise a child. Today the village came out to find a child. Scotty a non-verbal autistic boy wondered away from his Prescott home on Tuesday. By night fall there was no sign of the little guy and a call was put out for more volunteers to come out on Wednesday. Sitting in my cool apartment I made the decision to put my heart on my sleeve and head to Prescott the next morning. After all it is the 4th, I have no where important to be and hey this family deserves to have their little boy home.
I wasn’t exactly sure where the high school was in Prescott, I didn’t need to worry either. I just followed the stream of cars up hwy 10 and was soon in line with about 400 other people waiting to register for the search party. Once registered, we were funneled into the gym, briefed, and loaded on buses. They said it would be hot, there would be bugs, and mostly to watch out for rattle snakes. Armed with my water I set off with my group searching in the fields. There was no place I rather be.
I have never met Scotty or his family. I just knew I had a pair of eyes, two legs, and time to give. That if I were in their shoes I would want someone to do the same for me. That they deserve to have their little boy come home alive. Losing a child sucks, I know that first hand. Everyone in our group was positive, energized, teary eyed, and filled with hope. Hope that Scotty would come home today.
Word came that a child had been found. Some were quick to clap and cheer. Others stood silently as we awaited confirmation from the Sheriff that the child was indeed Scotty. 20 minutes went by without word, a group across the field erupted with joy. At that moment we knew it was true. I have never hugged so many sweaty strangers in my life. We all cheered, clapped, and cried happy tears at the news Scotty was reunited with his parents. That he was all right and that tonight he will be resting safely in his parents arms.
My happy bucket is overflowing and my heart is full. Watching this community come together to find a child they didn’t know is a moment I will always remember. A moment that I will always remember because I cared enough to get up early and search for a child that wasn’t mine. This is something we all should do. No one ever got hurt by giving to others. Share your love, your life, and in the process you will bring hope to the community around you. Do this and you will live an incredible life.
He told me “You will never make it on your own”. With those words spoken our marriage ended. I packed up my life and put one foot toward my future. On nights that are a little to lonely my ex-husbands last words are whispered into my ear. Doubt sets in and then the tears began to fall. I often wondered if he was right. If he knew something about me that I didn’t know. In the morning I would push doubt to the side and use his words to motivate me. Motivate me to change the box I was standing in. I was going to prove to him that I could make it on my own. Mostly I needed to prove to myself that he was wrong.
At first it was hard. I had to figure out how to pay bills, check my oil, and other day-to-day things. With help from loving friends and family I mastered online bill pay, found the dip stick, and managed to survive on my own. Slowly the pieces of my life started coming back together. I was no longer a shattered doll, but a doll with cracks. Each day I faced my fears and believed in myself a crack would disappear. Soon I would face the sun as a new woman with scars on her soul. Yet I can look back on what was with peace and a smile.
Tomorrow will mark the 2nd anniversary of the day I walked out on my old life with tear-stained eyes and Sherri at my side. That Attorney was right “You know when it’s over, someone just needs to call it.” I made the call and with a few text messages I was looking at apartments. I was looking at what could be. In truth I was scared to death, I rarely leap without a place to fall. It took alot to leave my ex husband, he did everything for me and gave me more than a girl could ask for. We had our good times and bad times. However in the end there was not enough good to chase away the bad. The bad piles trampled on the good and the sweet moments slipped away into heart ache. Nylan was the main source of my happiness, I put everything I had into that kid. I have always said “It was easy to walk away from Scott. But it hurt like hell to walk away from Nylan.” To start over I had to cut my ties and say good-bye. I had to leave motherhood behind. I had to figure out what it was like to be single.
Mostly I had to figure out what it was like to be me. I hadn’t been myself for five years. My heart proved to be my guide, turns out the real AJ was still there, deep inside she waited for me to find her. All it took was a little self-love and a sheer moment of courage to bring myself back. In the past two years I have grown more as a person than I ever thought possible. I found my passion and soared into my career. Finally, I am at the top of my game and reaping the benefits of my hard work. The confidence my ex husband took from me began to return and I stomped on his words. His last words have been my fuel. Fuel to prove to him and more so prove to myself that I can do it. That I can make it on my own.
Everything I have lived through has been a part of the plan. I realize now that my P.E. taught me I could survive whatever life threw at me and that I was strong. I just needed to listen to myself. The strength I gained from fighting for my life was the same strength I tapped into when my son died. That strength is what allowed me to turn the key on my past and walk out that door. The bad moments led to incredibly good things. Every tear I shed led me to where I am today.
My five years with Scott will always be apart of me. Deep down I want to believe that the Scott I fell in love with still exists within the shell. That the shell of a man who stood before me was hurting just like I was. He told me once “my greatest regret will always be that I didn’t get on that plane.” His greatest regret in life is that he wasn’t there to stand by my side on the day that our son died. That he didn’t have the courage to face the truth or more so the courage to face his grieving wife. He didn’t have the courage to love me through my darkest hour. His failure gave me the strength I needed to walk into the rest of my life. The life that was waiting patiently for me.
We are a collection of stories. Scott, Nylan, and Aloucious will always be apart of mine. He will always be the first man I loved, Nylan will always be my son, and Aloucious will be the baby I never got to hold. I could have skipped the pain and saved myself the heart ache. However I would have missed out on one of the greatest stories of my life. Because of the heart ache I became one incredible woman. The past two years have taught me that.
So why did the chicken cross the road? I know that’s an age-old question, however I do believe I know the answer. Gone are the days of the small family farm. Farming has been modernized. We as Americans have found a way to grow our chickens quicker, bigger, and apparently better. The average size of a factory farm chicken is between 20 and 35 pounds. The chickens actually grow so big that their little legs snap under their body weight. Grocery store shelves are lines with chicken breasts the size of your head. Factory farm chickens graze on feed that is injected with growth hormones and antibiotics. We then turn around and eat that chicken. One has to question “How do the growth hormones and antibiotics affect the human body?” I dared to ask that question.
The further away we get from the farmer the less healthy our bodies become. Our health is connected to the food we eat. What we eat depends on the health of the land. I wanted healthy chickens that I could be happy about eating. Thanks to Google I came upon Auntie Annie’s fields. Auntie Annie’s Fields raise natural free range chickens on a small farm in Dundas Minnesota. The lucky chickens end up at Elizabeth and Ian’s farm. Here the chickens get to spend their days wondering the fields eating bugs, clover, and doing the things chickens do. They are not confined to a dark barn like on a factory farm, instead there coop is on wheels and is moved from field to field. Auntie Annie’s chickens get a lot of fresh air and room to roam. Keeping the flock small allows them to maintain the health of their birds and they do not need to use antibiotics like conventional producers.
I had the pleasure of Meeting Elizabeth and her adorable children when I picked up my chickens at the Northfield Farmers Market. Instantly I knew my chickens were going to be good. Why, because you can instantly tell when someone puts a lot of love and passion into their product. To Elizabeth these are not just chickens, she is raising good quality food that will nourish the soul. Elizabeth and Ian have mastered the art of growing food and that is something a factory farm will never do. Auntie Annie’s focuses on quality, not quantity. Unlike the factory farms that care more about profit than quality.
Not only do Elizabeth and Ian grow healthy chickens, they also dedicate a part of their land to be used by the Main street Project, which is making land and infrastructure available to aspiring Latino chicken farmers. Auntie Annie’s Fields gives Latino farmers access to land and creates economic opportunities for rural Latino families. Now that’s a farm I can stand behind.
Do you want some incredible chickens? I know you do! You can head on out to the farmers market in Northfield and say “Hi” to Elizabeth and her cute kids on the dates below:
The Riverwalk Market Fair is open 9 a.m.-2 p.m., and is right on the Cannon River in downtown Northfield. We’ll be there every other Saturday: 6/16, 6/23, 7/7, 7/21, 8/4, 8/18, 9/1, 9/15, 9/29, 10/13, 10/20, 10/27.
Don’t want to make a trip to Northfield? Lucky for you they travel to Minneapolis:
Minneapolis: every 3rd Sunday, June through October (6/17, 7/15, 8/19, 9/16, and 10/21). We’ll be in the Longfellow neighborhood, about a mile south of Lake Street, and about a mile west of the Mississippi River.
Want to know more about Auntie Annie’s Fields? Well then visit them on the web:
If you have found yourself without weekend plans I have a suggestion. Minnesota is right next to the dairy state and let me tell you “there is nothing like handcrafted Wisconsin Cheese!” The state of Wisconsin is littered with small family owned cheese factories and dairies. Lucky for us Minneapolis is pretty darn close to the Bass Lake Cheese Factory. I actually found Bass Lake a few years ago by accident. I got lost on my way to Somerset and stopped in for directions, now I go there on purpose.
Bass Lake Cheese factory has been a Wisconsin staple since 1918. Today the state of Wisconsin has less than 200 cheese factories, many of them are automated and no longer make cheese by hand. The old-fashioned traditions of cheese making are a live and well at Bass Lake. The Cheese Master continues to use traditional recipes and techniques to create an amazing variety. Hastings creamery supplies Bass Lake with the milk that is needed to create the different types of cheese. You can’t get more local than that, Bass Lake is truly a gem in the dairy state’s crown.
Have you ever wondered how long it takes to make a good quality cheese? I know I have. During my visit I chatted with the very friendly counter staff and they gave me a brief lesson in the art of cheese making. I learned that it typically takes about 8 hours to make cheese and that all cheese is actually white. Yellow was used if the cheese was of the cheddar variety and white signaled that the cheese was a jack. Today the same coloring system is still used to identify the different types of cheeses. No worries, the dye is vegetable based and is chemical free. “I like the sound of chemical free cheese, I want cheese in my cheese, not chemicals with my cheese.”
The staff at Bass Lake are very helpful and love to answer questions. If you have a question about a certain cheese or need help pairing it with wine just ask. Bass Lake is known for their Butter Jack, no butter is not in the cheese. Butter Jack is similar to Monterey Jack however it has a richer creamier flavor. They even have CHEESE CURDS! What, you’ve never heard of the curd before. Well then you’ve come to the right blog. Curds are cheese that has yet to be pressed into a solid block. You can eat cheese curds straight out of the bag or you can dip them in beer batter (Yes beer batter) and deep fry them. Trust me once you sink your teeth into a curd, you’ll never look at cheese the same way again. At Bass Lake curds come in plain or flavored. Plain curds make me a happy girl, however when I am feeling a bit daring I will go for the Cajun flavored curds.
In addition to fresh cheese Bass Lake offers made to order sandwiches, pizzas, soft serve ice cream and cool drinks. They have a good selection of beer and wine to go along with the cheese you bought. The factory also sells an array of jams, jellies, and syrups from local Wisconsin companies. The best part of the factory is the viewing window that looks into the factory. Yes, you can watch them make cheese and stroll through their collection of antique cheese making equipment. Bass Lake has a large deck outside and welcomes bikers. So why not get lost and find your way to the Bass Lake Cheese Factory.
If you don’t want to get lost, here is the address:
Bass Lake Cheese Factory
598 Valley View Trail
Somerset WI 54025
Most of us will never know what its like to be bullied. Some of us are the bully and have no idea the harm we’ve cause. Then there are those who turn their heads and wish the problem went away. If we didn’t see it, then it never happened. Those that turn their heads are left wondering why when a young child takes their own life or when violence breaks out in the schools. The head turners could have stood up and stopped the fray before it boiled into outrage. They could have saved a life.
A couple of months ago I googled an old classmate, I heard rumors that she had sued a hotel for sexual harassment. Funny, I thought, you are suing someone for the exact same thing you did to me. The tables were turned and now she had found herself in my shoes. It probably never crossed her mind that she was once the harassor. I’d like to believe that somewhere deep down she has a heart and maybe slightly understands the pain she caused me. April was one of the people who listened to Sara and gathered her friends to make my life miserable. Rumors and laughter flew at my expense. I was either dumb, fat, ugly, and so on. They made fun of my clothing, my hair, my makeup, and the way I talked. Day in and day out this occurred within the classroom walls. Teachers didn’t care, they just turned their head, while I was dying inside.
It came to a head at our Choir’s annual Christmas show, that night was the worst. There taunts were terrible and down right sick. I was fighting the tears and lost it when I saw my Mom. I was crying so hard I could barely breathe, my Mom took my hand and told me it was going to be all right. When we got home my Mom told my Dad and he was furious. I told them “It’s no use the school isn’t going to do anything because Sara’s dad works for them.” My Dad didn’t give a shit and called her parents up that night, it wasn’t pretty but I do believe he got his point across.
You must know that I have been Sara’s target since the first grade. I have no idea why but I was always the subject of her torment. The morning after the choir concert my Mom demanded to meet with the principle and that set the ball in motion. The principle listened and made it very clear that Sara would not receive special treatment because her Dad was a school employee. Teachers and students were interviewed, the truth it came out. Just as I had stated Sara was harassing me. The principle left her punishment up to me. I told her “I just want to be left alone. Just stop.” Sara apologized to me and her Father apologized to my mother, he had no idea of his daughters behavior and made the comment “she got her punishment at home.” I figure what her Daddy dealt her was probably far worse than what I could come up with or what the school could do for punishment.
Life went back to normal, she left me alone. Yet the pain was still there and every step I took was filled with fear. Fear that they would start in again and try to break me down. I was trying to find my way and gain my strength. Slowly it came back. I knew college would be my ticket out of that small river town. After I got my diploma, I threw my hat in the air and burst into tears as my Mama wrapped her arms around me. I was not crying because I was happy to graduate. I cried because I was finally free. Free of their torment, free of the lies, rumors, and the pain they inflicted upon me. Mom told me once “Mannie, sticks and stones will break your bones, but words they will never hurt you.” My Mama was wrong, words they hurt, they hurt worse than a break and are forever etched into your soul. Their words have stayed with me.
Leaving Red Wing was the best thing I have ever done. Outside the limestone bluffs I found freedom. I look at Facebook updates (funny how they want to be my friend now) and see that most of them haven’t accomplished anything and hell a few are still living in Red Wing. When I left my wings were broken and weak. I often say I set out to discover my place in the world, but what I really found was myself. Its true I did, living overseas allowed me to put the past in the past and to fight for myself and my dreams. I grew a lot during my college years, developed real friendships, fell in love, and dared to live a life without fear. My life was no longer plagued by my tormentors I had set myself free. For the first time in years, I finally believed in me.
I have to believe that deep down both Sara and April know that what they did was wrong. Sara is currently pregnant and my only hope is that her son or daughter does not run into a girl just like their Mother. Maybe Sara’s son or daughter will come to her with tear-stained eyes and crying about the bullies that torment them at school. Maybe then Sara will realize the pain my Mother felt that night when her daughter came to her broken and tired of living a life of pain. Maybe Sara will realize the pain she inflicted upon me and then seek forgiveness within herself. Because forgiveness is something she will never get from me, I can forget, but I will never forgive.
Forgiveness is something I will never have for Sara or April. Now Cameron on the other hand I forgave, I forgave him because his wings were broken and his heart couldn’t go on. I forgave him one hot August day as I stood before his casket I whispered “May you find peace in heaven and know that I hold no hate towards you. I forgive you, now rest on the clouds of heaven.” I forgave and then started a chapter for the Light for Life Foundation, a suicide prevention program on my college campus in his honor. His friends were shocked and surprised that he never told them how he was feeling. I wasn’t surprised, he knew exactly what they were and that they would have made fun of him. He didn’t even trust his best friend with his pain, instead he chose to suffer in silence.
No one deserves to suffer in silence. Bullying is a terrible thing. I urge you to find the strength within yourself, stand up, and stand out until someone will listen to you. Suicide is not the answer, nor is violence. You can cut the cycle by standing alongside and speaking up for the bullied. Never turn your head away, open your heart and find it within yourself to give them the strength they need to survive. Dry their tears, hug them, and whisper “Go Ninja Go” into their ears. Then, they will know that they are not alone.
Stroke is the third leading cause of death in Minnesota, with 2,154 deaths in 2010, according to new data from the Minnesota Department of Health (MDH). To raise awareness of this rising problem Governor Mark Dayton declared May Stroke Awareness month. Not many people know or understand the symptoms of a stroke. Symptoms vary from person to person and can be hard to identify. Every second counts when a stroke strikes. A few seconds could mean the difference between life and death.
I like every other women in this country read the warning label on my hormonal contraception. I just like the rest of you thought “Hell, that never happens. They just put that on their label to cover their asses.” You know the line where it reads “Women over the age of 35 are at risk for blood clots and stroke while taking this medication.” I was only 26 and not 35 so I put little to no thought into it. The beauty behind hindsight is that it is only 50/50. My that will never happen to me moment came one cool crisp October morning.
I woke up feeling fine, grabbed my coffee, jumped in the Prius, and headed towards the freeway. Rush hour was terrible that morning and I wasn’t going anywhere fast. As I trudged along I started to have pain in my chest at first it was just annoying. Within a matter of minutes it went from annoying to stabbing, it felt like someone was trying to cut open my chest and rip my lungs out. The pain was getting worse and I could barely breathe, my left side started going numb and I started getting scared. I probably should have dialed 911, however I hit the Lexington parkway exit and went back towards Woodbury. To this day I can’t tell you how I made the drive from Saint Paul to Woodwinds health campus in Woodbury, someone up above was watching out for me that day.
All I remember is throwing my car into park and walking as fast as I could towards the Emergency room doors. The security guard saw me coming and reached out his hand just in time to keep me from collapsing on the floor. Next thing I know I am waking up to a nurse saying “Well it’s not a heart attack. Now are you going to help me take your clothes off or do I get to cut them off you.” Dazed and confused I quickly muttered “I’ll help.” The Dr came in when he got word I had come to and asked me a slew of questions. The Dr told me “You most likely have an infection in your chest so I am going to get you to x-ray.” I didn’t get an x-ray that day, instead I got a CT Scan. An infection would have been better than what I had in my lung. A Clot the size of a pea was blocking the main valve to my heart and I was stroking out. Within minutes my room was a fury of nurses and doctors. Clot busters were injected, blood pressure medication, heparin, and finally pain meds started to seep in to my veins. The Doctor looked me in the eye and said “You are one lucky woman, I shouldn’t be admitting you. You young lady, just beat death. Had you arrived just a few minutes later than you did, you would have died.”
You beat death, has stuck with me and I am greatful to be alive. I had my massive pulmonary embolism with infarction and stroke five days before my 27th birthday. Thursday October 22, 2009 was the day my life changed forever and I am greatful to be above ground.
Taken 2 weeks after my massive pulomanry embolisim with infarction and stroke.
So now I celebrate two birthdays. I have my pulmaversary party on the 22nd of October and my actual Birthday on the 27th. On the 22nd I toast to friends, give as many hugs as I can and thank God that I am alive from the bottom of my surviving heart. Because I could have easily been another casket in the ground instead of a survivor cherishing every step she takes.
Above ground is where I plan to stay and I am using my second chance to raise awareness of Strokes and Heart disease. I want to save someone from having to go through the hell I lived through. A healthy heart is a loving heart. A surviving heart is a greatful heart. A Greatful heart is a healthy heart that shouts from the roof tops. I am blessed to be a part of the Twin Cities community which raised nearly 2.2 Million Dollars at the annual Heart Walk. 10, 000 people gathered last Saturday to walk for a cause and to show the world that we want to silence the #1 killer in America. Companies shared our passion, survivors stood proudly, and some walked with heavy hearts. The walk brought us together, each of us bound by a common thread, and forever changed by heart disease. Some came because they wanted to be healthy, others came to honor their past, and the lucky ones stood with surviving hearts. I am one of the lucky ones. Yet I was reminded of my Father and my cousin Emma who died at the age of three. She was the original reason I started taking part in Jump Rope for Heart and then the Twin Cities Heart Walk. Emma was with me on Saturday, I wore her name on my back. I didn’t walk for my surviving heart, I walked for Emma and her transplanted heart.
I am part of the new generation. Stroke just doesn’t affect the elderly. It can hit anyone at any time. No one is immune and when a stroke hits every second counts. I beg you from the bottom of my surviving heart to learn the signs and symptoms of a stroke. Take it from me the very life you might save could be your own.
Unique Symptoms in Women
It is important to recognize stroke symptoms and act quickly.
Common stroke symptoms seen in both men and women:
•Sudden numbness or weakness of face, arm or leg — especially on one side of the body
•Sudden confusion, trouble speaking or understanding
•Sudden trouble seeing in one or both eyes
•Sudden trouble walking, dizziness, loss of balance or coordination
•Sudden severe headache with no known cause
Women may report unique stroke symptoms:
•sudden face and limb pain
•sudden hiccups
•sudden nausea
•sudden general weakness
•sudden chest pain
•sudden shortness of breath
•sudden palpitations
Call 9-1-1 immediately if you have any of these symptoms
Every minute counts for stroke patients and acting F.A.S.T. can lead patients to the stroke treatments they desperately need. The most effective stroke treatments are only available if the stroke is recognized and diagnosed within the first three hours of the first symptoms. Actually, many Americans are not aware that stroke patients may not be eligible for stroke treatments if they arrive at the hospital after the three-hour window. Unique Symptoms in Women information provided by the National Stroke Association
It’s funny how a scent, a laugh, or even a walk around Calhoun can bring the memories of Charlie flooding back to me. There are times where I wake up at night and moments where I crack a smile for no reason. Life is too short, nothing like loss will teach us that life is too short.
Today someone who had been out of the country since Thanksgiving asked me where Charlie was. For the first time in three months I was able to say “He died” without falling apart. I was at peace with saying “he died” and with those words a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Before that moment saying ‘He died” left me with nothing but pain and regret. Today when I said “he died” I felt at peace and ok with the fact that Charlie is really gone.
Gone. Is where old boyfriends, friends, and people go when we no longer want them in our lives. We just simply say “He/She is gone” to avoid any awkward conversation and speculations on what went wrong. It was hard for me to say Charlie is gone. I didn’t wish him to Guam or throw him to the side, I had no choice in his being gone. This gone was different, this gone hurt, and it will impact me for the rest of my life. This gone has changed me and will remain a part of me. Charlie didn’t even have a say in his being gone, he was just driving that day, and fate cut his time short. The decision of two people is what took Charlie’s life that day, because of them he is gone.
As much as I want to blame them and hate them for Charlie being gone, I can’t. In order to move on I have to forgive and believe that the jury will award a just punishment. Faith is what keeps me going on the days that are a little to lonely. I have to believe that in the end this will all make sense. I am a better person because of Charlie. He taught me that love knows no bounds and that when you believe it all falls into place. Maybe this was part of the plan, I’ll never know, heck if it was I don’t want to know. I prefer to leave fate up to chance and love to the stars. Because when I look up at the starry sky I know somewhere up there Charlie is looking down on me. An that is all the comfort I need.
A couple of months ago I made a conscious decision to no longer buy dairy and meat products from my local grocery store. I grew up in a farm to table family. My parents always bought meat from our local butcher and fresh produce from a farm co-op in Wisconsin. My mom purchased very little at our grocery store, can goods were the anti christ in our house. If we didn’t make it from scratch, then well we didn’t eat it. One could say that we were organic before organic was cool.
Lately I have been doing a lot of research on factory farming, feed lots, and so on. My thought process changed the moment I watched a clip of chickens that were so large their legs broke when they tried to walk. A chicken is not meant to be 40 plus pounds. A chicken breast should not be as big as your head. We do not have solid research on the effects genetically engineered food has on our bodies. Hell its been found that most processing plants spray the meat with a solution to kill bacteria, then we turn around and eat that. I’m sorry but I do not want any chemicals with my meat, I just want plain old meat.
Truth, I am an agriculture geek and I was even president of the Red Wing FFA. Farmers are amazing people and their connection to the land they til runs deep. I have a soft spot for organic farmers and their families. I want to know the family that is raising my food and not the label the store sells. Each farm, each family has a story to tell, and they are the reason we all have food on our tables.
My table has wonderful organic free range pork and chicken on it. I get giddy when I place my order and then the farmer calls me to confirm. If something is out of stock they don’t go to the back of the store to get more, instead they say “AJ it’s going to be a while, we are currently raising ______ for your consumption in the fall.” I love it when they tell me that!
We have the power as consumers to fight back against the factory and to put the profits back into the pockets of the families that tend the soil. Many farmers are losing ground and are handing over their deeds to corporations. Many are going into debt in an attempt to stay alive. If they do not change or do what the Corporation says, their contract is pulled, and they are left with a mountain of bills.
You and I can end this, end this once and for all, you just need to join me and buy local. Buying local is a small part, yet its the wake up call Washington needs. The FDA and USDA are riddled with former Monsanto, Tyson, USA BEEF, and Cargill executives. They are the ones making the decisions regarding our food, our health, and for what to create a profit. That is what our country has come to “Profit over People.” Our small farmers are barely holding on and they are praying for a record yield that will quiet the banker. They are praying for someone like you to see the light and to fight against the feed lot down the road. They are fighting to put food on the table for their family, while trying to grow food for yours.
My table will be a symbol of one almost 30 something’s dream to end the factory farm and to bring the farmer to my home. Food always taste better when its grown with a smidge of love, strength, and hope for a better day. After all farming is what made America the great nation it is, that and the rail road. The rails brought the grain to port, the port brought it to the river, and the mighty Mississippi brought the grain belt of the midwest to the world.
The American Heart Association had a dream, a dream to create an army of life savers. In 2011 they along with legislators drafted a bill that would require all children in the State of Minnesota to learn hands only CPR before they graduate. Now that was a good dream, one that we pushed hard for. Tireless days were spent pounding the capital halls, sending emails, and phone calls until we were blue in the face. We watched our bill pass in the House and then the Senate. The next stop was the Governor’s desk. The pressure continued with drop in visits, phone calls, we were not going to give up until the Governor signed our bill into law. For me I had one girl in mind when I walked into the Governor’s office and that was Jamie. Jamie is a sudden cardiac arrest survivor who died at 18, however she was brought back from the brink with a little CPR. CPR can and will save lives. The Governor heard our cry loud and clear, April 23rd will be a day to remember. On Monday, April 23, 2012, Gov. Mark Dayton signed the CPR Training in Schools bill (HF 2329/SF 1908) into law.
One day when my children complain about having to learn CPR in class, I will say “Hey now, your Mama lobbied hard for that law and now you will have the ability to save a life!” I am one of the few who can say, “I set out to change the world, and I did exactly just that.” To you the change may be small, but for survivors like myself it means that one more person has the chance at life.
To all of you who emailed, called, and visited the Capital I want to thank you from the bottom of my surviving heart. Without your help and the American Heart Association this Law would not have been possible.
Have Bear Will Travel 