November — the month that tends to officially mark the finality of harvest and close the year’s crop season. Our last issue presented The Land’s final From the Fields reports for the year, and some of those updates naturally included conversation about markets. Over the past several weeks, the words “value” and “worth” have continued bumping around in my head.
Since about my sophomore year in high school, I’ve been told the easy way out of writing a paper is to begin with “Webster’s Dictionary defines (blank) as (blank).” But I’m not beginning; I’m already two paragraphs in.
Merriam-Webster gives eight definitions for “value” as a noun and a couple even have sub-definitions. The first couple reference money, of course, and it’s the same with “worth,” but there’s also “the value of something measured by its qualities or by the esteem in which it is held” and “moral or personal value.”
The value (importance) of a farmer is undeniable. The value (market price) of the crop? In the hands of others.
You may recall the piece of art entitled “Comedian” by Maurizio Cattelan. The banana duct-taped to the wall. Editions sold between $120,000 and $150,000, and at an auction, a total cost of $6.2 million was paid for a certificate of authenticity that gave one Justin Sun the authority to affix a banana to a wall via duct-tape and call it “Comedian.” The roll of duct tape was provided, but the banana he’d have to secure himself.
After the installation, Sun ate the banana, which I suppose is less wasteful than saying you’re going to make banana bread and never do it.
From $0.59 a pound in store to $6.2 million is quite a jump. Perhaps Red Green was right – duct tape really is the solution for everything.
These last few weeks (but longer, if I’m being honest) have also caused me to reflect on the value put on humanity. It seems that too can fluctuate.
News updates have felt dismal, but responses from local farmers, bakers, and organizations brought light. Offering help to those in need with no questions asked – sans millions, billions, a trillion dollars.
At the beginning of October, I visited USDA’s website, and was surprised to find the following first statement: “Due to the Radical Left Democrat shutdown, this government website will not be updated during the funding lapse.”
The phrasing felt much more partisan than personally expected from the Department of Agriculture. Regardless from which party the rhetoric came.
The verbiage changed over the course of the next several weeks, but the message did not until recently, when it was replaced with the very different sentiment of “We are here for you.” But now it kind of feels like “you” isn’t exactly everyone?
Again, when language is deliberately divisive, it’s been conversations with ordinary, in-real-life people that have brought hope. People, sometimes with significant differences in opinion, but a mutual respect for humanity. People who find ways to both secure their own peace and work together for the common good. I am thankful for them.
Two weeks ago, my family traveled to Phoenix to attend my niece’s wedding. Yup, right when flight delays and cancellations were increasing. Luckily, we had no issues, and staff and travelers alike were kind and calm. (Our flight back was delayed 15 minutes and our gate changed once. The passengers at a nearby gate were not so fortunate — two delays over the span of about 8 hours including a premature onboarding and then deboarding.)
The brief time in Phoenix felt like an early (and very warm) Thanksgiving — great food and wonderful conversation. There are five children in my family and we are spread out over four states. Time spent together is rare, and it seems that’s when it’s cherished most.
The word “priceless” – “having a value beyond any price” and “having worth in terms of other than market value.” Yes, that’s what the most important things in life are, aren’t they?
“Priceless” doesn’t cover the cost for seed, fertilizer, or machinery, I know. And a “thank you” won’t pay for anything, but nonetheless, thank you to everyone who works in and through so many unknowns. And thank you to those who step up — softly or boldly — to help when needs are presented.
So, November — we adjust to the Persephone period, facing the less than 10 hours of sunlight each day. Plants slow down during this timeframe, and everything within me says to do the same. And we’re also nearing the holidays. I hope your conversations, gatherings, and maybe hibernations in the coming months will be filled with peace, hope, and reminders of your intrinsic worth.
Laura Cole is the managing editor of The Land. She may be reached at editor@TheLandOnline.com.