And an excellent response to the Why Bother? article by Michael Pollan

Reading the "Why Bother?" article, I got all worked up in my pathetic own way, and rushed out to buy lettuce, leek, and parsely seedlings, and a small but pricey darling little rosemary. Filled with good intentions and feeling clean in my soul, I thought, "yes- I will grow my own lovely tomatos! and be free of the eveil, consumer cycle!" I even thought how nice it would be to be able to get a damn tomato without having an existential crisis at the supermarket, where I can spend an easy 20 minutes reading labels on tomatos and feeling torn between my puny pocket and my puny concience. Is the local greenhouse tomato a more ethical purchase than the organic from Spain? Is the $1.99/lb washed out looking hulking tasteless thing even food anymore? Is there anyway I can justify (ethically or financially) buying the gorgeous little on-the-vine ruby red ones? And it usually ends with me realizing that my quick stop for some food has turned (once again) into a minute theater of the absurd, and I quickly get some, feel horror at the register, and then let the damn things shrivel in the fridge.

Yes, I thought, I shall grow my own.

But then...

I quite like to garden, you know. I like to plant, and I love seeing things come up. I am decent at keeping plants alive. I know about what many of them want, and at least always set out to provide them with what they need. But.

Full sun? Nope. Do I get home from work (the days I get home before 10 pm) filled with a wholesome urge to drag a hose around and hand-squish pests? Nope. Have I ever managed to grow enough tomatos to justify the amount of labor, expense, and sheer pain-in-the assness of it all? Nope.

So when I read Salon's Andrew Leonard's response to Pollard's article, I felt a great easing of the soul, in that maybe I am not alone in being The Worst Person Ever.

In Leonard's response, he points out that "growing your own food is work -- ask any peasant. To be able to enjoy it as play, or as an almost spiritual exercise that connects you more deeply to the earth and all living things (some of which you must kill: Die, all aphids and snails!) can be a tough call after a long day or week at the office. It can also be an affectation that is only accessible to those who spend their Sunday mornings working their way through the New York Times, before deciding where to put their snap pea trellis."

He even goes where Pollard not only feared to tread, but didn't even acknowledge was on the map- the "what-if-you-don't-have-a-back-yard class warfare morass... everyone is landed gentry, or at the very least, can plant basil in a windowbox." issue.

Well, I have these little seedlings, and I will assuredly plant them, and I especially hope to enjoy the leeks, as leeks are my favorite veggie, but I don't really feel that in any way a little suburban vanity gardening is a solution.

I don't see a solution. When rice is being hoarded and wealthy governments are talking about rationing and poor governments are trying to hold back their starving masses, yeah- me growing some Brandywine heirloom tomatos really isn't going to make a fucking difference. They might be tasty, but that is all.