tomatoes.

In 1960, just before Thanksgiving, CBS aired a documentary on migrant farmworkers entitled Harvest of Shame. Through the voices of farmworkers, the film revealed the extreme poverty of those who labored to put food on America's tables and ultimately beckoned the nation to seek justice beyond charity. As we watched this film in class recently, sadness overwhelmed me. Considering the conditions that people endured in the past, but also, the conditions that persist in the present for farmworkers. (Cue the oft quoted Faulkner-ism around here: "The past is never dead, its not even past.")

After watching Harvest of Shame, we read Tomatoland by Barry Estabrook. Content wise, this is one of the most important books we've read for our foodways class. From a the perspective of a journalist and food activist, this book exposes the environmental and social abuses of the modern day slavery system of the Florida tomato industry. The book also highlights the tireless work of the Coalition of Immokalee Workers (CIW), which continues to fight for fair wages and labor practices. Just this week, the CIW started a campaign in North Carolina protesting Publix and Wendy's for their refusal to join other grocery stores and restaurants in supporting fair food practices for farmworkers. If you eat tomatoes, I encourage you to read Tomatoland and to explore the amazing organizing efforts of the CIW.

I can also recommend the recent documentary, Food Chains, which we also watched in class. A modern Harvest of Shame, this film allows the voices of farmworkers in Immokalee and other places to be heard as it highlights the work of the CIW.

I am incredibly thankful for the chance to celebrate a thanksgiving meal with my family soon and deeply grateful for all the hands involved in bringing the food we will eat to the table. As we sit down together, I hope we'll consider how we can support the livelihood and dignity of farmworkers.

quyanna, mukluk.

we named him mukluk huggins-white. our little eskimo dog.

born in the nearby village of teller, alaska, he was being given away on the nome listserv: nomeannounce. fawn jumped at the opportunity for a puppy. i fell in love the moment i saw him. he was born right around the time i moved to nome. he made me want to believe in reincarnation or fate or something like that.

his name meant seal skin boots and/or a baby seal. the name proved rather appropriate. as he grew longer and longer like an accordion....

he climbed mountains, crossed rivers, picked berries, marched in parades, danced along the tundra, skated across the frozen sea. he was nome-famous. young and old throughout the town knew him by name. the wiggly, cuddly bundle of joy that he was. who offered love indiscriminately.

when i moved to fairbanks to work at calypso farm, mukluk followed. living nearby in the woods with his foster parents, sveta and igor, frolicking in the forest with his companions, yenta and smule.

when i moved back to north carolina, mukluk came too. he settled in wilkesboro, adopted by the most loving grandparents he could have asked for. fully embraced by the huggins household, he continued to live with my parents when my living situations were not dog friendly. he was always in good hands. and continued to spread joy wherever he was.

mukluk became sick this summer with lymphoma. and this past week, he passed on. mama and daddy gave him the deepest compassion and kindness possible. those of us who knew him are all quite sad. but there is much to celebrate in the joyful moments he gave us.

daddy says grandma avie lee is taking care of him in heaven. brother says he's running around with magnolia, our childhood dog. i still hope he gets to be reincarnated as something awesome. and keeps spreading joy around.

we plan to keep part of his ashes in wilkesboro and bring part of them to nome when i go for fawn's wedding next summer. as both places were his home.

quyanna, mukluk. thank you. you were a damn good dog. often my salvation. whose love was just intensely concentrated in little body, in a few years.

cajun country.

this is just to say: what a delight it was to journey to lafayette, louisiana recently for black pot.

a rainy weekend of immersing in cajun dancing, listening to fabulous musicians, and sharing such moments with lovely souls. a reminder of how vital it is for my spirit to dance, to share in the communal joy of movement and music.

also sampled a bit of the local cuisine. gumbo. jambalaya. boudin.

the taste of the place made me hopeful for other chances to explore lafayette and its sense of rootedness in music, food, and tradition.

and with interesting timing, this episode of gravy was just produced that speaks to the history of acadian and cajun people and the places where food, music, language, and culture intersect.