We want to acknowledge that we did see a concept that we really like. It was Tweeted by Sarah Smarsh, author of Heartland, which we're slowly reading. She tweeted it yesterday, although we didn't see it until today:
One answer to ignorant question re: rural America "why don't they just leave": Every small owner that goes under is chance for Big Oil/Ag/etc to grab land & exploit it. We should be diversifying landowners, guarding public land & helping rural Americans be STEWARDS. #GreenNewDealSenator Markey's version of the Green New Deal Resolution has a couple of sections that speak specifically to helping rural Americans be STEWARDS. Here's one element:
If the rest of rural America is anything like our county, many, perhaps most, of the renewable energy jobs will occur in rural America, at least those associated with wind and solar energy for the foreseeable future.
Although we've been perturbed by the lack of Democratic leadership support for the Green New Deal, it occurs to us that Speaker Pelosi may be following a strategy of President Franklin D. Roosevelt. Here's how it's described in the Huffington Post:
FDR once met with a group of activists who sought his support for bold legislation. He listened to their arguments for some time and then said, “You’ve convinced me. Now go out and make me do it.”
Even in the middle of the Depression, Roosevelt understood that the more effectively people created a sense of urgency and crisis, the easier it would be for him to push for progressive legislation — what we now call the New Deal. FDR used his bully pulpit, including radio addresses, to educate Americans about the problems the nation faced, to explain why the country needed bold action to address the crisis, and to urge them to make their voices heard.
The Farm on the Great Plain
A telephone line goes cold;birds tread it wherever it goes.A farm back of a great plaintugs an end of the line.I call that farm every year,ringing it, listening, still;no one is home at the farm,the line gives only a hum.Some year I will ring the lineon a night at last the right one,and with an eye tapered for braillefrom the phone on the wallI will see the tenant who waits—the last one left at the place;through the dark my braille eyewill lovingly touch his face.“Hello, is Mother at home?”No one is home today.“But Father—he should be there.”No one—no one is here.“But you—are you the one . . . ?”Then the line will be gonebecause both ends will be home:no space, no birds, no farm.My self will be the plain,wise as winter is gray,pure as cold posts gopacing toward what I know.
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