Resetting the Gryroscope

Today I had tickets to zigzag south through Alabama on a trio of Greyhound buses—from Athens to Birmingham to Montgomery to Mobile—where I was hoping to be collected by my brother and sister-in-law, Guy & Elaine, for a long weekend visit. The day started auspiciously enough, as I awoke to single digits and clear skies in south, central Tennessee (at Dunmire Hollow, home of long-time friend, Harvey Baker and his sweetheart, Dorie). Though it was strikingly cold, after a spot of breakfast we had no trouble getting to Athens in time for the 9:55 am, heading south.

Unfortunately, the 9:55 did not arrive at 9:55. In fact, at 1:30 I was still in Athens and it was at that point that the agent called Greyhound Central and learned the bad news: all buses through Alabama had been canceled because of brutish winter weather that paralyzed a swathe across the southeast, including Birmingham and Atlanta. With images of hippos on ice, Greyhound took the high road and shut down all routes scheduled to journey through the Yellowhammer State. Thus, I'm enjoying an unanticipated extended visit to Athens AL—a town I never knew existed until I'd bought my bus ticket.

Guy & Elaine had moved south from Chicago to Mobile Bay four years, hoping to never see snow again. Last night their luck ran out, as Mobile saw it's first white stuff in 17 years. Oddly enough, here I was in the Deep South (and trying to head deeper) and the outdoor temperatures were lower than I encountered while changing trains in the Windy City last Saturday. When it comes to weather, you just never know.

• • • 

My "official" reason for coming south had nothing to do with warmer weather (which is a good thing considering what I've encountered so far). Monday and Tuesday I was immersed in two days of meetings with FIC's Oversight Committee. This group plays a coordinating
function and serves as the kitchen cabinet between our semi-annual Board meetings—acting on behalf of the Board between the all-hands-on-deck meetings that take place spring and fall. 

As is our habit for the mid-winter Oversight interim meeting, we gathered at Harvey's in Tennessee. Ordinarily, heading south in January is considered prudent from the standpoint of avoiding bad driving conditions. This year, not so much.

For most of FIC's 27 years, Oversight has been comprised of five or six members, but we are temporarily down to three old warriors: Marty Klaif, Harvey Baker, and myself.

The last two days I was catching them up on what I'd been doing as FIC's main administrator, and we huddled about how to proceed with various challenges and opportunities. I think of it as a chance to reset the organizational gyroscope and to make mid-course corrections to my marching orders.

We accomplished all this in a familiar setting: Harvey's living room. Marty (who lives at Shannon Farm in Afton VA) slept in the newly remodeled guest room, and I slept on the couch.

Bird Feeder Television In addition to sharing an abiding dedication to FIC, Harvey, Marty, and I share a few other things in common—in addition all being older white guys. For example, none of us own a television set. 

What Harvey & Dorie have instead is a bird feeder right outside the large south-facing windows of their dining nook, where we enjoyed the chickadees, nuthatches, goldfinches, titmice, and the occasional red-bellied woodpecker and cardinal as they munched their way through a cylindrical column of sunflower seeds.

Kinda like having a TV set where you only get the Nature Channel, and where the snow is on the ground, rather than on your screen. But there are no commercials and it's endlessly entertaining during breakfast and lunch.

Bill Becker—who served for many years as the Fellowship's Treasurer and was therefore a member of Oversight—used to treasure his winter trips to Dunmire because: a) he could count on seeing at least one male cardinal in full plumage (a bird whose range doesn't extend to the Front Range of Colorado, where Bill resides); and b) we often scheduled Oversight meetings to coincide with playoff football weekends, which Bill enjoyed watching with friends. (In fact, I've attended more Super Bowl parties at Dunmire Hollow than I have in northeast Missouri!)

Going Like 40
Another point in common among Harvey, Marty, and me is that our long-time communities are all celebrating their 40th anniversary this year. That's right, Shannon Farm, Dunmire Hollow, and Sandhill Farm were all founded in 1974, which has turned out to be a vintage year for everyone except Richard Nixon.

These past two days it was enjoyable to be with close friends, getting the work done, and coming together for an Oversight interim meeting for about the 40th time. It's been quite a run.

Pressing the Flesh

One of my favorite parts of my job as FIC administrator is meeting the public and talking about community. Some fraction of that is talking with reporters (which is an occasional live radio broadcast interspersed among a steady diet of phone interviews). Another chunk is doing presentations and workshops at events. While I enjoy both of those things (and do them regularly), I enjoy the most simple conversations with people who are curious about community and cooperative living.

This happens during informal chats while I'm staffing the Community Bookshelf table at events; it happens in random phone calls at the FIC Office if I'm the one who picks up the phone; it happens around the edges of my work as a group process consultant; and it happens at FIC soirees like the one we hosted at Edgehill Methodist Church in downtown Nashville last Saturday night.

About 25 people showed up. Most lived in our near the Music City, yet some came from as far away as Murfreesboro (35 miles to the southeast). We spent 2-1/2 hours talking community. The group included:
o Two couples (Martin & Cindy; plus Howard & Katie) who were ex-members of The Farm (their tenure went back to the pre-1983 days and the original collective economy)
o Daniel & Amanda in their 20s who were part of a new intentional community, less than two years old and eager for news from other groups
o Andrew, who was enrolled in divinity school at Vanderbilt and hoping to seed a group house in the Edgehill neighborhood, under the auspices of the church we were meeting in
o Chris, who had left mainstream culture as a young man and raised a large family immersed in rural Amish country, learning the sustainable practices of the "plain folk"
o Pam & Karl from the Nashville Greenlands, a local Catholic Worker House, servicing the homeless and dedicated to pacifism; plus Don who lived for many years with the Open Door community in downtown Atlanta—a well-established Protestant version of the Catholic Worker theme
o Ted & Woodley, long-term stalwarts of the Edgehill congregation (and friends of FIC Board member Harvey Baker)
o Randall and others connected with the Cumberland Greens and Transition Nashville, couple of vibrant meet-up groups
o A sprinkling of others wanting to connect their work in prisons to community, or hoping to discuss the link between community and food sustainability, plus others who came just to soak it all in.

We did an opening go around where everyone got to introduce themselves and what drew them to the circle, followed by a brief introduction to FIC and an open discussion about community—both of the intentional kind, and of the how-can-you-more-of-it-where-you-are kind. When we opened the circle at 8:45, most lingered for an additional 45 minutes in small group conversation, extending the good feeling.

While there's no telling what seeds might sprout and prosper among the myriad sown Saturday night, it's highly satisfying blowing on the coals of hope for a more cooperative future and seeing the glowing faces in the room. The FIC Oversight Committee has concluded its weekend meetings [see my blog of Feb 25, Plainly Speaking, for why I was in town] and today we disperse for home. With any luck, some of the cross fertilizing accomplished two nights ago will lead to connections than will abide for much longer.