note-
italics is Naj talking
bold is Naj thinking
regular font is others speaking
Some members of Windmill Co-op were here at the beginning. Some of of us literally did not know each other until the Slide turned into the Transition. [We once used the word "Crash" for this period but after several years and time for reflection, we came to see that challenging time as a gain rather than a loss. The change in words reflected a change in the way we saw ourselves.] Others began various collaborations well before many in the neighborhood even thought much of the increasingly chaotic stories showing up on the news and in their own lives with greater and greater frequency back during the Slide.
Some people moved in over the years since the Slide from other parts of Eugene. Several came from greater distances who managed to defy the odds of surviving the hazards of the journey to Cascadia, then finding a way to make it across the border and then to join a Cluster and finally, to join a co-op. If one managed the first three, chances were, a co-op would take them on, the ordeal and success of making it that far was an impressive resume.
"Greetings everyone."
It was Aleta from a few houses away, our Co-op president. We rotated the position yearly. Aleta had been a capable president. She was a doctor and had a good feel for being inclusive. She and her family had been early members of the co-op, maybe 15 years at this point. She met Tom starting out on the New Oregon Trail. As the Slide became less easy to ignore, those with the vision and initiative all over the country loaded up what they could and left town, many for the Northwest.
Town for Aleta and Tom was Dallas, Texas. They didn't know each other for much time before leaving but they became acquainted through an emerging network. In Dallas, more and more people came to realize there were severe changes closer than the horizon. Dallas was about the same as Houston, Atlanta, Orlando and Phoenix. Each town had its own peculiarities of decline but essentially, energy and food was becoming too expensive. In the South, temperatures were rising, partly because of climate change but also because of increasingly frequent power outages, air conditioners were not working around the clock.
2
At the time, the so called sub prime mortgage fiasco was well matured and millions had lost their homes. Jobs and industries dependent on transportation and intensive use of resources went "off line" one after another like dominoes. One industry would go into decline, lead by the airline, trucking and auto industries. Then, all the many support industries of those big ones would go into decline. It was quite predictable.
Crude squatter camps for the homeless were setting up in parks and at city margins to such an extent that the authorities could not keep up with them all. The camps were looking like the shanty towns once considered unique to Third World cities. The ramshackle structures, the poor hygiene, the squallar All within view of the gleaming downtown office towers and shopping malls of Denver, Little Rock, Tucson and Mobile.
In its early hay day, the Sun Belt owed its very modern existence to air conditioning. The heat and humidity would have made the explosion of population there from 1950 to 2000 unlikely. From North Carolina to Missouri, to southern Nevada and south would have remained low density swamp and desert without artificially cooled air. When my own family moved from New York to Dallas in 1958, the 4 bedroom, two bath brick home we moved into on Linden Lane had a dog house with an air conditioner.
In Dallas, from mid May to well into October, one went from an air conditioned house, to an air conditioned job and back home in an air conditioned car. That was before Climate Change. By 2013, the climate controlled way of life was in steep decline. The power outages were becoming more than an inconvenience. To many people, the rising unemployment, cost of gasoline, expensive and increasingly erratic food supplies provided incentive to some people to form mutual assistance networks. People paying attention came to logical conclusions, the big cities, even less so in the south, did not seem to be the place to weather the storm. It was looking like a team effort, with people you could trust, was needed to find a way to survive. That's when Aleta met Tom, in a basement meeting at an Episcopal Church in North Dallas.
They met through a local network and with a dozen others, made a plan to pool together their resources, skills and luck. The group made a plan for an exit from Dallas about 2013. There was still fairly dependable access to gasoline although the cost was up to $13 per gallon in the currency of the time and supplies were becoming unpredictable. Fights and even shootings were not unheard of in the lengthening and increasingly unruly lines to fill up. Now and then, an entire gasoline delivery truck was hijacked. Soon, they were accompanied by armed guards. Still, with enough money or goods to trade, gas could be found.
At the time they left Dallas, the federal authorities were still urging people to stay put and be patient. The disruptions in oil supply were only temporary they said, again and again. They had been temporary for four years.
Aleta, Tom and their group, did leave Dallas and headed west on I 30 in a caravan of 6 vehicles and a hefty cache of weapons and ammo. By the time the caravan arrived to the Oregon Border, they were like combat veterans who had been through a major campaign. Of the fourteen adults and eight children who started, exactly half of each did not make it. Lucky for them, the Oregon Border would be open for another month. After that, the bridge was fortified and what was on the west side of the Snake River was no longer Oregon,,,,,,
"OK. Great to see everyone! Can we huddle?"
The "huddle" was the name given to a big group embrace and synchronized breathing. It had the effect of creating both a physical high and also a very strong emotional bond for the individuals participating and the entire group. It was one of several rituals that brought cohesion and grounding to the co-op. There were other rituals and techniques for different occasions. We used the huddle as a bittersweet tribute to a different time in history.
Before the Slide, professional sports occupied a gigantic amount of time for tens of millions. Of course football was one of those sports. Mostly males would devote untold hours watching their favorite teams on TV. Over the course of a couple decades, pro football took over Sunday, then Monday, Saturday and eventually there were games every night of the week.
3
Basketball, baseball, hockey did likewise, not to mention all the other sports on TV. The advertising revenue was enormous and the salaries of the players became a striking statement of the value the economic system placed on entertainment. Professional players were making literally millions. Teachers and social workers would have to work dozens of years to make the same amount in a year of some right tackle or left fielder you never even heard of.
As the Slide gained traction, professional sports began to lose appeal. As unemployment mounted, fewer and fewer people could afford to buy the tickets to the games nor the products that paid for the advertising that ultimately paid the players. Automobiles, tires and cheap beer were products that went from ubiquitous to infrequent around 2011. Over scarcely a decade the entire set up of pro sports went from hugely popular, obscenely profitable and front page news to irrelevant, abandoned and kaput.
Shifting into the Transition with millions of people dazed and confused, there was a need for neighborhoods and communities to accept the huge changes and pull together to do what was needed, both as individuals, families and communities. Bubba Power was born. In one town and then another, immobilized sports fans awoke as from an enormous shared coma and asserted themselves for the civic good. Parking lot pavement was removed, gardens were planted, civic action committees and mutual assistance networks were formed, new projects to take care of more needs closer to home sprang up all over the country.
Much of the work was accomplished by millions who once spent entire days watching sports on TV. The Bubbas were joined by still others. The virtual world of computer games became unplugged- millions came out of their cyber lairs, adding to Bubba Power. And then there were those who shopped, those who spent weeks equivalent watching movies and still more who had been civically neutered by affluence.
The inescapable steepening of unemployment , the rising cost of food, the squatter camps - there was emerging and un escapable collective knowing that this was a new and unfamiliar economic and culture change - a new reality setting in -and real effort was called for to start a new way of cooperation and taking care of human needs. It was looking like change or die.
4
No one knows where, but someplace- Dubuque, Greenville, Santa Rosa, many claimed to have been there to be part of the first Huddle. Somewhere it started- huge civic work parties began with a giant hug. The number in that giant embrace could have been hundreds, maybe thousands. The legend goes, someone, overcome by emotion, encircled by friends and strangers, arms, hands, breathing people, embracing and awakening for the common good, someone shouted out "This is like a giant huddle!"
At that point, hundreds on the scene exploded with laughter, uncontrollable sobbing and so the legend goes, even a report of spontaneous enlightenment. The ritual was baptized and given a name, and the name spread.
All over the declining United States, Huddles provided a sense of belonging and common purpose. Practically any neighborhood and community event, any gathering for the civic benefit began with a Huddle.
Bubba Power took off in a steep trajectory once its latent potential was manifested. High minded, if desperate civic projects hit the ground running, declarations were made, slackers took up the banner of public interest, intentions were the most noble. All such occasions started with a Huddle.
And as it turned out, the tremendous outpouring of civic energy was not enough.
All over the country, decades of accumulated environmental degradation, lost cooperative skill and old fashioned living know how, abandoned with high tech arrogance for decades were more than Bubba Power and mega Huddles could overcome. From Miami to LA, from Winnemuca to Levittown, most of the wonderful community efforts fell far short. To the gods, it might have looked like a football game. The underdog was making their best effort in spite of terrible coaching for years. The opposition, decades of lost civic participation plus virtual absence of community leadership from neighborhood to national, was just too much.
Yet, the Huddle was remembered fondly and strongly in the few places people did make it. It was a sort of group thanksgiving, prayer and celebration all at the same time. And Windmill Co-op could Huddle as well as any. And others Huddled all over Cascadia.
5
So with no apparent guidance or prompting, as people arrived at the Dome, they added to the growing and swaying merging of bodies and spirits. Windmill Co op Huddled. Eyes closed, you could have lifted your feet and still been in place. There were accounts and claims of exactly that- all feet off the ground, at the same time. Breathing went into a collective rhythm. The collective vibration entered into a oneness. There were sighs and murmurings for a full twenty minutes, kids, elders, everyone. And then, as if on cue, everyone opened their eyes, looked all around, made eye contact with everyone within view, one final squeeze and that was it.
And finally. The huddle was over.
"Ready? Lets start the meeting. The agenda, the Eastern Border, the bike path, the horse railway, funerals, Windmill sponsoring a new cluster and finally, a request for trial affiliation."
Everyone was settled. Couches, pillows, chairs, even an old, many times repaired Yucatan Hammock [gratefully, we had learned how to make a good knock off]. The small pond waterfall added a nice trickle background sound. On a mild spring evening, there was no need for the insulated drapes. Windmill Co-op was gathered together for Monthly Meeting. There were 43 people and several visitors. The electric party lights were on although there were gaps where some greens, blues and oranges had worn out with no replacements.
"First, can we welcome visitors?"
"Hi, I'm Rob and visiting from the Lupine Cluster. Home is near Coberg. We are part of River Fern Rural Co-op. We are five clusters with 45 people. Its my couple days in town and I've known Cindy and Mick for years. We've been catching up and I've been wanting to see how life goes for my friends and where they lived."
"Welcome Rob. Good timing. What is your in town partnership?"
Almost all rural co-ops had an in town partner. There were many advantages and complimentary assets. Both locations provided a place to take a break from either in town or in the country. Town partners would help out at important times of the agricultural year. In town partners provided certain goods and services like access to medical care not available out of town. Some rural co-ops in the hills supplied raw forest products that might be refined in town. Urban and rural connections were constantly evolving creative relationships.
"We partner with Kincaid Co op in the Amazon area. Its good. Kale Co op was one of the first co-ops to form. Back about 2008, several Kincaiders were involved with the first neighborhood organization in Eugene to really become serious about neighborhood economics. Other neighborhoods followed their lead. We have heard the stories of how that all came about. Seems about 2010 everything really started happening fast."
"Thanks Rob, we're glad you're here. So next is Misty."
"I am Misty and one of your agenda items. I am asking for a trial stay."
"Welcome Misty. We look forward to hearing from you a bit later."
"News and announcements? Yes, Susan."
"Hi everyone. The composting group will meet next Tuesday here at the dome, in the afternoon."
"Yes, Bill?"
"We are having a roofing party next Saturday at 10 at Banjo Cluster. Please join us. Snacks and drinks provided."
"We have a notice from Transportation that the bike path needs some work. Its the ravages of time again, they just don't let up. How come the Romans could build the Apian Way and it was good for 2000 years and our bike path can do little better than 3 or 4? We need to smooth out the bumps where the tree roots stick up."
6
Eugene had a comparatively excellent bike path network in place decades before the transition. Many of its users, myself included, cursed the existing economic system at the time but as it turns out, the bike path was a lot better then than it is now. We have had to fill in cracks, level places on concrete sections that looked like small scale fault block mountains. Tree roots pushed up under asphalt looking like snaking eskers after the ice melted away. We didn't have concrete to pour so we had to do with bricks. We hadn't quite mastered the technique of a totally flat surface. Many people had gained a whole new respect for long last pavement skills.
"Ok. That's all ? First agenda item is Eastern Border. Robin, can you tell us about that?"
"Yes I can. The background. As you all know, in the Early Days, the border with Idaho was closed. There was a flood of refugees that had become just overwhelming. The horrible decision had to be made. In essence, better to have a few lifeboats that could float rather than have them all overloaded and all sunk.
This was perhaps the most difficult and controversial decision ever made in Cascadia. It meant that after a point, entry into Cascadia would be severely limited. At the border, makeshift encampments were set up on both sides. One in hopes of making it across, the other to ensure that did not happen. At the time, there had actually been skirmishes with casualties. Several times those from beyond the border succeeded in overwhelming the Cascadians. None ever did make it west of the Cascades.
"We fortified the border and sent out word that what was Oregon, Washington State and southern British Columbia had become Cascadia and the border was closed."
The US military, or what was left of it, declared its intent to intervene. It still had easily enough fire power to open up the border but for some unknown reason, it never followed through. Rumor had it that some high level officials from outside Cascadia were offered refuge within Cascadia if the military action was called off. If they had allowed the military action, they would have destroyed their chances for personal survival. Could have been some clever diplomacy. No one knew for sure. Cascadia has allowed several experimental colonies to live in relative isolation, a couple in Lane county. Some speculate our very own former US president from thirty years ago still lives in one of those out of the way colonies, or at least his descendents.
7
The room was quiet.
“Even after 30 years, few were comfortable with the decision even though, fair to say, without that decision, Cascadia would not have survived.”
"The border still requires protection. We have all heard stories of what is going on beyond that line. We do allow a certain number of newcomers. One of our agenda items this evening is all about that. All parts of Cascadia have agreed to provide support for Border Protection. River Road District needs to provide 12 volunteers. Windmill's share is two volunteers."
“I disagree. The border should be open for all. And the border protection people are turning that task into a military operation. So we don't have a volunteer, that lottery is like being drafted. I can see this border volunteer – lottery set up evolving into some kind of coercive authority. All that oppression of force before the Transition is creeping back. We shouldn't have a border in the first place!”
It was Stephanie. She might be described as a proponent of open borders and minimal law and enforced order. Many people felt the same way.
“My own cousins were denied access to Cascadia 15 years ago. I went to the Border my self to see them. I had to cross the bridge into Idaho because they weren't even allowed onto this side of the river. They suffered horribly, walking mostly from Ohio hoping to make a new life here. And they were denied access. I almost stayed with them in Idaho but they urged me to go back to Cascadia. There was no future with them. i never saw them again.”
Stephanie was sobbing and shaking. Several people surrounded her in an effort to comfort her. This had happened before. Angela was kind to offer support.
“That's all true, Stephanie. We know it was a harsh decision and many suffered. All of that did happen, its all been discussed. We can't change what happened to your relatives.”
8
Stephanie continued between sobs. "The Border is where Cascadia practices eugenics. So, we do accept people but its only when it works for Cascadia. Its only the healthy we take. Its like the other side of the line is a reservoir that Cascadia taps into when its necessary."
This was Intel, also known as a critic of the controlled Border. A couple friends were helping Stephanie leave the dome. Intell continued.
"So we allow in people when it works for Cascadia. We do have a low birth rate so the reasoning goes that we need to add new people on occasion. Its like the people beyond the border are a resource to be used at Cascadia's convenience. So we take the healthiest and smartest and leave the rest. Isn't that a kind of eugenics? Its just not ethical.
We had gone over all of this countless times. Some had suggested the critics trade places with the hopeful refugees but no one ever did. The conversations usually ended in a lament and that was that. And such was the case this time. The predictable response defending the border was next. It was Wolf.
"If the border was not there, we wouldn't be either. Cascadia is one of the few places in the country, probably one of the few in the world, where the essence of civilization is not only being preserved, we are building on the wreckage of the mistakes before us. We have a responsibility. The border is not so much about preserving our own individual selves. Its more about preserving the good that history has trusted us with."
Intel responded sharply."That's a convenient and self serving excuse."
"Done!"
Twenty people cried out done. This was part of Monthly Meeting. It was part therapy. People needed to be heard so the conversation sent on for a while. It was therapeutic and it was necessary and everyone respected the process. A group, from multiple perspectives took it upon themselves to end the back and forth after enough was said. No one could keep track of how many times we went through this topic. It was emotional, heartfelt, strangely healing it was still necessary. After a few deep breaths by everyone present, Aleta bowed to those who spoke and continued. Then, almost as if nothing happened, she continued.
9
"Recall how we help out with the Border. It is either by volunteer or by lottery. You know casualties are not unknown but they are few. Conditions at the border are modest but make one appreciate life back here west of the mountains. Its chilly in the winter and hot in the summer. The time commitment is one year. You won't know exactly what part of the border you will go to. Volunteering at the border is an important part of creating cohesion throughout Cascadia.”
“This is also a wonderful way to meet fellow Cascadians. Volunteers come from all over the region, even some from further north around Vancouver. Also, there's fascinating work helping with the early part of the process for integrating new comers from across the border. Typically, each border camp accommodates one hundred volunteers, its like what we knew as summer camp. With the age requirements, twenty to thirty, it is quite a unique experience. Needless to say, there are other activities going on besides securing Cascadia. I know of a number of people who met and became partners serving at the Border. Its not unusual for people to volunteer multiple times. Most of us have been there."
“This is the first call for volunteers. If you would like to volunteer and are between 20 and 30, please see me. If we do not have our two volunteers by next Discussion, we will have a lottery.”
“OK. Next agenda item.
"Alright. Where were we? So part of the process is to help orient our newcomers. Windmill will be welcoming a new Cluster of three children and four adults. They all left Arkansas together. I have read the overview of their story and it is an impressive one and loaded with adventure. Windmill has adopted new arrivals before. We can't say the process is always flawless, most of the time it works out fine for everyone involved."
"It helps to remind us how grateful we should be. These people were on the road for four months and then at the arrival center for three more months and have been through several levels of orientation. The reports are good. That's not to say they are fully integrated, that is partly our work. Remember, many of us or people we know have not always lived here. And another thing, we are an aging population, that is, those of us who live long enough to be aged. Cascadia needs new people."
10
"So, the new Cluster will live at the new project and spend part of their
time in ongoing orientation and part of their time
with us. Several of us will meet our new arrivals next week and within a week
or so, we can introduce them to more residents
of Windmill. The children will be with the adults part of the time and part
of the time they meet other children."
Arkansas, I thought to myself. Its a long shot but I will just have to find out when I can.
"Next agenda item. The horse railway. Elsa, can you please tell us about the horse railway? Elsa works with Public Works as most of you know."
"Yes I can."
Elsa, with here bright red hair had lived in the neighborhood all her life. I knew her as a child and watched her grow up. She moved downtown late in the Transition and was now responsible for the horse railway. Although as a community we mae efforts not to put a greater value on one kind or work or another, the "Commissioner" of the horse railway was always a person of considerable public notoriety.
Eugene's modes of transportation made a series of dramatic changes starting about 2010. Later in the Transition, three or four years later, it became clear that the days of the automobile were finished. Even several years before, about 2013, I can remember the occasion well, one of the lanes on River Road was closed to cars and became a lane reserved for bicycles. It wasn't difficult. There were far fewer cars on the road and a lot more bikes. The bike path along the River was becoming way to crowded.
A few years after that, the car lane came closer and closer to being empty, even at midday. It was decided to transfer that lane to bikes as well, with the middle of the street planned to become a trolley at some point. What a change for River Road. Dozens of bikes going by all the time. Trailers, bikes for multiple persons, different kinds of work bikes. There had been a significant bike building industry in Eugene and that turned out to be a great benefit. There were several co-ops in Eugene that were completely about bike manufacturing.
Sure enough, several years later, track was salvaged from the rail yard only a couple miles away and installed on the street. The former recreational vehicle manufacturers were glad to build the street cars. At first, they were supposed to be electric but when the realization came upon us that there was not so much electricity, priorities chosen lead to the street cars becoming horse drawn. It was quite a site. Streets all over town taken over by a horse railway and bicycles.
11
Several other roads in Eugene did likewise such as Franklin, Willamette, Hiway 99 north, Roosevelt, Patterson, West 11th and West 13th, Coberg Road and Cal Young. The entire set up worked great. The speed was not excessive, up to ten miles per hour but few people were in a hurry. It was the responsibility of the co-ops that used the railway to keep it up, which included track maintanence, with the help of Public Works, keep the horses fed, the trolley cars maintained and the drivers provided for. Years before, trying to maintain a real schedule was abandoned. Still, one rarely had to wait more than a half hour during operating times. Co-ops near the trolley would leave items at the stops for people to do, sometimes small items for fabrication. It was a way to make good use of time waiting for the trolley.
"Hello Windmill Co-op. so nice to be here. The ride over on the trolley was very pleasant. This part of town is known for its quality service. I remember the mural on the old Goodwill building that included a trolley. Our esteemed Elder Naj painted that about 2003, correct Elder Naj?"
"Yes, that's right Elsa. And most should know that of the people included in that mural, you were in it, picking blue berries."
"That's right. Closest to the street, just next to the painted newspaper box. Recall, the newspaper box had several visionary painted headlines. How true they turned out to be, about the changing climate and the cost of gasoline."
Aleta added. "We all know about the mural, Elsa. Elder Naj is fond of reminding us."
A good chuckle from the group.
I shared many great times with Elsa and her parents when she was a kid. She has become a highly respected mover and shaker in the community. Few would know here as a silly kid who one time making playful threat at me, hit herself on the forehead with a rolling pin instead, with a sound that could be heard in the next room. I could hardly stop laughing. She came from a civically minded family. Her mom was well known for putting together all kinds of wonderful neighborhood events.
Then Elsa. "Its nice to share one's cherished memories. So I have come to you all this evening with some news about the horse railway. We have been asked by several other towns how our railway works. So we invited several delegations to visit. We are asking for some hosts to give them a real Eugene experience while they are here for 3 or 4 days. Would Windmill like to host four people for three days in four weeks? We expect people from Salem, Olympia, Everett and Bellingham. Please talk it over and let me know. Thanks for considering being a host. I think you all would be great for the task.
12
Ok. Last but not least agenda item. We have a young woman named Misty, who is interested in an extended residence, with the longer term being possible membership in the co-op.”
"Misty, can you tell us a bit of your request and sponsor?"
"Yes, I can."
This young woman had a casual but deliberate way about her. Fit and seeming self confident, its unusual for a 15 year old to be going out like this. Its rare for anyone to seek a change in their co-op status, especially at such a young age. When people became partners, it was common to change a co-op but a single young woman, maybe this was the first time for Windmill.
"I 'm Misty and currently live in South Town at Piedmont Co-op, Fox Hollow Cluster. We have been part of the hillside salvage projects since before I was born. My intuition has been telling me for several years I need to make a change. I did a vision search and the interpretation is towards Earth and plants."
"My mentor has recommended caution, shifting to a new cluster is a considerable change. That's why I am looking for a lengthy probation period. My attraction is more towards soil than salvage. I have been with our garden team since I was 11 and have been given a good deal of responsibility. Also, Windmill Co-op has attracted me. I have a resume and references."
"Thank you Misty. Anything to add?"
"No, thank you, only that I am enrolled in Elder Naj's just beginning Newbie group."
"Thank you, Misty. You know that you will need sponsorship from a Cluster and a personal sponsor as well. We will see you again for a progress report next month."
13
"I am aware of that and am making application."
OK. Just a few more housekeeping items.
“Lets make sure we are not creating mosquito hatcheries outside. Spring is here. We know what can happen when we don't keep up with standing water. Since the Transition, we have seen a number of outbreaks of what were likely mosquito born diseases."
Hardly a year went by when at least a few people around town died from some kind of unfamiliar disease. We did have books on diseases and symptoms but without the kind of lab work easily available 40 years go, we still had to do some guess work. Best just to try to avoid the problems. We may have been lucky so far.
"OK everyone. Thanks for coming. See you all around till next time."
Meeting was over and people were breaking up into groups for chat or leaving. There were some important agenda items to think about and act upon. Windmill had a number of eligible people for the Border. Someone would step forward. And a new cluster to host. Most of the existing Clusters were eager to take that on. And Misty, she too, would likely be welcomed for a trial residency.