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Dr. Doolittle Kind of Stuff

We opened our first farmstand of the year at Opal’s Farm on Friday. We anticipated a slow day as it takes time for folks to realize we’re there. True to form, it was a very slow day. A couple of people stopped to ask if we’d be there after work. We’re discovering that the time may not be good for the neighborhood so we will most likely change to Saturday afternoons. We’ll keep everyone in the loop as we discuss those changes this week.

For most of the first couple of hours a small black Corgi-mix and a Chihuahua walked up and down the yards across the street. Stacey, our Volunteer Coordinator, and I were talking to a couple of friends who’d stopped to visit buy some fresh produce and tour the farm. One of our visitors had brought her new dog and her dog caught the attention of the two across the street and they began to venture across Sylvania.

Sylvania is a busy street with traffic that tends to go faster than the thirty-five-miles-per hour-speed limit. We all watched in alarm as they tried to come across the street to make a new friend. They managed to dodge the first round of cars and went back to their side of the street until there was a pause in the traffic. When they tried again a single Lexas SUV came flying down the road. The little black dog escaped safely. The little Chihuahua did not. I don’t wish to be graphic but some of us saw the accident and all four of us heard the loud crunch as the Lexus hit the Chihuahua. It was quite upsetting to a group of dog lovers – especially when the Lexus continued at full-speed down the road, never stopping to check on the dog.

The little black dog walked back out on the street to check on his friend. I ran over to see if his buddy was still alive. Fortunately, it wasn’t. The hit has been loud and fast. Most likely the poor Chihuahua was dead on impact. It was a small comfort to my friends who were crying.

I gently took the body and laid it on the grass. The small black Corgi-mix came over to his friend and sat by the body. He periodically would head a short way in the direction they had originally come from, but always stopped and looked to see if his running buddy was coming and returned to his friend. This went on for about an hour before he headed off to his home around the corner. I followed him to see if I could find the owner. I found his house but not the Chihuahua’s.

I debated telling this story because of its graphic nature. It was upsetting to watch. I’m a dog guy. I have four of them and I love them dearly. My kids and grandkids are out of the house. Jamison, Sadie, Ricky, and Lucy are like our kids. They’re family and, to many of our friends’ chagrin, they are treated as such. I know I’m not alone in this. Just see how many billions of dollars the pet care industry makes per year.

Yet in watching the little black Corgi-mix’s concern (and what I believe was grief) I became acutely aware of our connection to other living beings in our world. I know the human tendency to anthropomorphize our furry (and not so furry) friends. I’m sure that there are many examples that may support this. Science debunks many of the things we attribute to human-like behaviors and emotions in the animal kingdom. It thinks of them as having simply natural, instinctive behaviors. However, they can’t measure or even observe the spiritual connections that are prevalent in the animal kingdom.

I’ve always been taught that language is what differentiated homo sapiens from the rest of the animal kingdom. Recent scientific studies have revealed that the same gene that helps enable language in humans is present in many birds, reptiles, and mice. Studies have shown that other species have the ability to learn new ways to communicate amongst themselves. Language isn’t unique the human beings after all.

Many humans have known this all along on a much deeper spiritual level. Some ancient theological text, such as the books that weren’t canonized into the Hebrew or Christian Bibles, like the books of Enoch, refer to a time when all created beings shared the same language and communication. Indigenous cultures around the world respect the connection between the natural world and humans. They act accordingly and treat creation with care. Saint Francis of Assisi, the founder of the Franciscan order, talked about Brother Sun and Sister Moon – that all created beings are part of one family and should be treated and respected as such. Ask any pet owner if their pet communicates with them. The answer is a resounding yes!

I don’t pretend to be a scientist so whatever I think is simply my personal belief and experience. I would like to think that my dogs are spiritual guides of a sort. It’s no wonder that “dog” is “God spelled backwards. They are loved and give love unconditionally. They experience grief and loss and can tell when I am going through the same. When Missy, my Sheltie passed we buried her in the backyard and placed a stone marker on her grave. Several weeks later, Jamison came to live with us (all our dogs are rescues) and when he went into our backyard for the first time, he walked to Missy’s grave and sat down very respectfully. I’d like to think he honored her and promised her to take care of Margaret and I – which he’s done extremely well.

All four of our fur-babies know when something is going on with us and often respond accordingly. As I sit here working at the computer, Ricky and Lucy are outside playing. Periodically, Ricky comes running in, noses my arm, and checks on me. I love on him for a minute and off he runs out the door to play with his sister.

I see this kind of behavior with other animals as well. We have had a farm hawk for the last couple of years – Ethan – yes, Ethan Hawk. Ethan would follow me through the field as I cleared it each season for new planting. I would chase field mice as I cleared the field and Ethan would gobble up as quickly as he could. He’d stand next to me while doing so. He’d often sit on the bucket of my tractor and “talk” to me.

We loved having Ethan around. He was a magnificent Cooper’s Hawk. We knew that he and his mate – who was usually close by – would leave for a couple of months each summer and come back in the Fall. He and his mate didn’t return this year. We wondered if he was okay and were worried about him. Although he didn’t return, a young Cooper’s Hawk did. He came down and sat on the tractor the other day. I could swear he was Ethan Jr. and tried to let me know. He then flew to Ethan’s tree where he appears to have a nest now. The tradition continues…

I don’t discount science in any way. It explains so much and helps me be a better farmer. However, I intend to continue believing that Spirit is what connects us to each other and to the whole of God’s creation. I’ll continue to treat the natural world as family and do my best to love, nurture, and protect it. After all, isn’t that what we do for family…

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Yes, It’s Another Best of List…

My inbox has been filled with “Best of 2023” lists from the various writers and organizations I follow. As 2023 winds down I find myself thinking about all the wonderful things that have happened at Opal’s Farm and the ups and downs of the past year I’ve encountered personally. So, with that in mind I present to you the Best of 2023 for Opal’s Farm.

Ms. Opal

The biggest happening at the farm is always Ms. Opal herself. Each passing year reminds me of the blessing of her presence. Her love for others, her stamina and exhortations to become a “committee of one”, and her tireless work for our community revitalize us daily to make the farm the place to come for food, education, and the promise of food justice. She constantly reminds us that the walk toward equality and justice is one step and often with one person at a time. Our energy is always revitalized by her leadership.

Tomorrow my wife and I will celebrate New Year’s Day the way we have since I started at Opal’s Farm. At two in the afternoon, we’ll be present for her New Year’s Day dinner – along with a couple of hundred others! When we received the RSVP invitation it listed her accomplishments in 2023 so I’ll share them here:

  • Texas Senate portrait reveal – hers is only the second woman’s portrait to hang in the Texas Senate Chamber. The other is Congresswoman Barbara Jordan.
  • Three honorary doctorates
  • Two events with Cynt Marshall of the Dallas Mavericks
  • Several assemblies at schools with young people
  • Conversation with Brian Stevenson for the National Juneteenth Museum
  • Several visits to the White House 
  • Visit with the Governor to talk about the National Juneteenth Museum
  • Reveal of portrait for the National Art Gallery
  • Inducted into the Texas Women’s Hall of Fame
  • Received two EMMY Awards – both the Governor’s Award and the Award for best documentary

New Awareness

Ms. Opal also visited the USDA People’s Garden in Washington DC and was featured in a national article for the USDA Natural Resource Conservation Service (NRCS). Both our Executive Director, Dione Sims, and I were invited to a roundtable discussion with Congressman Marc Veasy and US Department of Agriculture, Xochitl Torres Small along with a small group of local non-profits and City Council members.

The USDA is beginning to take a serious look at both local and urban farms and our food system. They opened their Urban Farm office in Dallas this year – one of ten cities to have one. Opal’s is by no means the only urban farm in Fort Worth, but we have had the privilege of hosting the NRCS staff for our area several times as they learn and extend their work to urban agriculture.

NRCS engineers have given us new plans and specifications for better irrigation at the farm. We are changing our irrigation over the winter months so we can grow more food for our community.

New and Old People

The Spring growing season was a time of transition for Opal’s Farm. Our previous Assistant Farm Manager, Amber Carr, helped build the infrastructure for our bio-intensive third-of-an-acre. She left the farm in July, and we were blessed to have Joseph (Joey) Hughes step in this Fall to take over our bio-intensive section. Joey came to us from World Hunger Relief in Waco and has an extensive background in education and urban agriculture. We’ve extended our programs to include agrotourism and educational programs for the community. We’ve also partnered with Delve Experience to a make tours and education more accessible through their website https://delveexperiences.com/ .

We’ve continued to build our partnership with Tarleton State University. In the coming year two new programs for both the community and previously incarcerated individuals will begin. We are presently finishing the curriculum and the final details. We’re excited to share this with you as 2024 begins (more to come!).

On Friday, December 22nd, we held our first-ever farmstand at the corner of Sylvania and LaSalle near the entrance to the farm. We are now able to support a regular farmstand on a weekly basis for the United Riverside neighborhood of which we are proud to be a part of (you don’t have to be a neighbor to come!). We are presently open from 10 AM to 2 PM but this might change as we get more input from our neighbors.

We’ve long hoped to be able to have our own farm stand and the final incentive came in November when we became authorized to accept SNAP benefits. This has been a game-changer for meeting our community goals. Please feel free to come by and check us out. You can tour Opal’s Farm while you’re there.

We’ve had some awesome volunteers this year and particularly this Fall. Stacey Harwood returned from medical leave as our Volunteer Coordinator in September and has done an amazing job getting some big projects done. We’ve had more time this Fall to plant more hundred-foot beds and expand our biointensive beds. We could not have done it without our volunteers and Stacey’s help. We want you to know how treasured and appreciate our volunteers are. You make the farm complete!

There have been so many things that have made 2023 a successful and major growth year at the farm. I have no doubt I’ve left some significant moments out. What I can tell you is that donors really stepped up this year to make 2023 and the coming year special. We’d like to thank the Enterprise Foundation with Enterprise Car Rental and the Stewart Family Foundation for the special awards that will keep Opal’s Farm expanding through 2024. We’d also like to thank KPMG Inc. and JP Morgan Chase for their continued support!

I cannot finish the “Best of” list without a thanks to our Executive Director, Dione Sims. We are a program of Unity Unlimited, Inc. and Unity’s support and belief in Opal’s Farm is what drives us. Dione spends many hours with all the various programs Unity does throughout the year, but she always has time for the farm. Thank you, Dione, for being an awesome leader, a friend, and a mentor!

On a personal note…

This past year has been incredibly hectic. It’s often difficult to “stop and smell the roses”. I, for one, have learned the value of tasking time to count God’s blessings. I am one of the most fortunate people I know. I get to go play in the dirt – to do what I truly love and am passionate about – and I get to do it every day.

Any kind of farming, whether it be urban or rural, is hard, but rewarding work. On the 110 degree days in August I ask the same question – why do I do this stuff? Then, I go to the markets we attend, and I get to see and know the people we serve. You all have made the year wonderful.

I hope and pray that 2024 brings you all joy, peace, and happiness. Thank you for being part of the Opal’s Farm family.

Happy New Year!!!

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Christmas 2023

Time goes by far too quickly these days. It’s difficult to believe that December is here. It seems like I was planning Spring crops just a short while ago. It’s almost time to do so again. The seventy-five-degree high predicted is a reminder of that. Just so you all know, we still have tomatoes at Opal’s Farm. The first freeze hasn’t hit us yet. We get the “heat island” effect from being so close to downtown…

Today is one month since my last cigarette so I guess I can’t really call this “Thoughts From the Porch”. I’ve stayed away from the front porch and concentrated on the back yard outside my office. It helps with the cravings. The main thing that helps with the cravings though is the near-constant praying to stay smoke-free. So far, so good, and so much for the news updates…

The holidays are tough for me. My son, Jeremy, was born on Christmas Day. I’ve had difficulty with the holidays since his passing – so much so that my wife started calling me the Grinch last year. I try to show some Christmas spirit but I’m not successful at faking it. I’m hoping I can do better this year.

I’ve been especially blessed to be far more involved in my grandchildren’s life this past year. I’ve been able to spend more time with them than ever before. I’m not always sure they appreciate it as much now as they’re both young teenagers – why is it teenagers rarely give more than one-word answers?

Spending time with them is such a gift and sometimes, a curse – at least where grief is concerned.

They are both very much Jeremy’s children. Lucas looks so much like him that it brings tears sometimes. His mannerisms are – a constant reminder of Jeremy. Izabella, or Simone as Jeremy called (her middle name is Simone after Nina Simone) has every bit of his wit and often, sarcasm. Together they are amazing. My daughter-in-law, Amber, has done an amazing job raising them and getting them through losing their dad. She and I can share our grief that still comes in tidal waves at times.

But back to Christmas…

I’ve had a lackluster approach to Christmas since my parents passed away, especially Dad. He was Mister Christmas. It was his favorite holiday. He made the season special; especially where my boys were concerned. Much of that had to do with my parenting or lack thereof and my addiction had a lot to do with that. Still, he was my Christmas light and I enjoyed participating each year.

After his passing, Christmas was not as big of a deal. My mom moved to an apartment in a Senior Living Center so big celebrations rarely occurred. The last years before she passed in 2017 she moved to Atlanta to be near my sister. I always hated the idea of trying to find a gift for Mom. She was extremely hard to buy for and her body language often revealed her disappointment in my gifts. (***side note – she told me that my sobriety and my relationship with God were the best gifts I could’ve ever given her.)

When Jeremy died, the best thing about Christmas became January 2nd as it would be in the past and I had survived what felt like unbearable grief. I’ve shared that with my wife (as if she couldn’t tell) and she’s always been understanding. This year has been different. I came home from work the other day and she told me that I needed to become Mister Christmas. It was my turn. Dad and Jeremy were no longer there, and the tradition shouldn’t die with them. My grandkids needed me to be that very thing. I think my wife needs that too.

Christmas was never a religious holiday for me. I grew up in the Church of Christ and they didn’t celebrate it as Jesus’ birthday because that’s not in the Bible – which begets the question why they didn’t celebrate Easter because we know what that date is, but I digress… It was significant to my wife though and now the holiday needs to be special for my grandkids as well.

When I finish writing this, I will climb the attic stairs and pull down the Christmas tree and decorations. I’ll rearrange the living room to accommodate the tree and place it where Margaret, my wife, can enjoy looking at it. It’s likely I’ll shed a few tears as I place Jeremy’s ornaments – both the ones he made and the ones we were given over the years – on the tree. I’ll brave the tangle of lights and let Margaret direct the decorating. Afterwards, I’ll turn on the lights for all of us and pray that I can be Mister Christmas this year. I’ll swallow my sadness and allow the grief to come when I’m alone. Christmas is about everyone else anyway and I’ll not deny them that.

I won’t lie about my feelings. God made sure of that. I was at a recovery meeting recently and met two other people for whom grief is all too real. One gentleman lost his wife. The other lost her seventeen-year-old son to an overdose in May. I can seriously relate, and I can offer support and an ear because I’ve three years of experience to offer. I don’t have any answers, but I can be present for them while they search for their own. God has a way of turning tragedy into something – I don’t want to say something positive – but an opportunity to show His love and grace – to love others better.

My sponsor and friend Jim told me a long time ago that helping others and being there for others was the best way to find peace. Maybe that’s what comes this year. I hope and pray it comes for all of us.

Merry Christmas everyone…

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The Prodigal Son…

I was enjoying some time on the front porch last night before going to bed. It was still warm at 9:30 PM here in Texas so I didn’t intend to spend too much time, but grief had other plans…

I lost my mother a couple of weeks ago. I returned to Kentucky last weekend for the funeral. I visited with my brothers at Momma’s house for a while on Saturday. The general consensus being we were all simply trying to process that Momma was gone. The air was filled with sadness and the emptiness was an oppressive reminder of why we were there.

My little sister arrived and promptly ignored any of the things Momma and I had talked about concerning my brother Danny who is deaf. She made it clear that Danny wasn’t coming to visit, and they had it all under control. My other brother voiced his support as well. I guess I felt a little blind-sided. It dawned on me that things were going to be far different with Momma gone. The events at the funeral were further confirmation of this fact.

I know we all have a different grief process. Funerals are not for everyone. The grief is far too raw and mostly keeps the family in a numb state. There are things to be done in preparation for the event and the choreography of remembering one’s loved one requires some degree of detachment from the one lost just to make it to the day of the funeral.

The funeral (or the politically correct term – “celebration of life”) followed the pattern of most such occasions – the viewing, the family reception line, and the line of friend of the deceased walking past the family to pay their respects. I chose not to stand in line until my son insisted that I go up there and stand with the family – my family. I wasn’t in line long before it became apparent (at least felt like) I wasn’t welcome in the reception line. I returned to my seat (which was in the family section) and spent the remaining time talking to Margaret and my cousins who had come from Texas to send Momma off.

When the funeral was over, we followed in the procession to the cemetery. There was a brief graveside service and my brother-in-law, Adam, who is the go-to expert on family history (he’s an amazing wealth of knowledge) told me about all the folks and relatives buried around Momma. We then went to Flint Ridge, the family farm, and ate a meal provided by Momma’s church. Afterward, goodbyes were said, and we all left to return home and begin the full process of grieving.

I returned to Fort Worth the next day and the hours of the return drive were mostly filled with silence and occasional conversation about the feelings I had. My wife Margaret and I are both in recovery and one of our mantras is “feelings are not facts”. Just because I felt isolated and uncomfortable doesn’t mean that my brothers and sisters tried to make me feel that way. By the time I got home the farm had so many things going that I was lost in trying to play catch-up. Maybe that explains last night’s flood of sobs.

Suddenly, I felt a loneliness I haven’t known in a long while. The losses hit with the force of hurricane winds – my momma, my mom and dad, my son Jeremy, my dear friend and mentor, Jim, my best friend David, and my friend Eduardo. It didn’t seem to matter that my life is still full of people I love dearly and that love me – my wife, my oldest son, my step kids, my sponsor and confidant, Edgar, Ms. Opal, Dione and my Unity family. It just felt cold and alone. The tears welled up and when the dam broke, I couldn’t stop crying and slinging snot. I wanted to hold my grandchildren (teenagers probably wouldn’t like that) and call my son, Adrian, right away.

The last few years have seen unimaginable loss for me. It shouldn’t surprise me. My family, good friends, and I all qualify as senior citizens (young senior citizens I might add), and these things happen as we get older. It’s how life is. I don’t know what the future holds. I’ve learned to live in the moment, one day at a time, so I don’t have to figure out my Kentucky family right now. I simply need to feel my feelings, love my family and friends, and carry on the work God has given me to do each day. Amid it all I need to find the things for which I’m grateful.

Some days will be easy. Some days will not. I’ve walked this path before, and each loss affects me differently. I simply need to let it be until the feelings are more stable. Grief is a rollercoaster and while the ride finds its end, the memories (and the scars) remain.

I came in and the stereo was playing “The Funeral” by the Turnpike Troubadours. God must love irony because He couldn’t have timed a better song to hear. It’s how I felt at Momma’s funeral. Maybe you get what I mean…

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Snakes in the Grass

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day everyone! Saint Patrick died on this day in 461 A.D. and became the patron Saint of Ireland for his missionary work in Ireland. Following his death, many legends and myths grew around his evangelical work among the Druid population of the island. It is said that the four-leaf clover was how he taught the Trinity to the locals and thus became a part of the lore around Saint Patrick.

All I was taught in school was that Saint Patrick was responsible for driving all the snakes out of Ireland. I was quite disappointed when I learned there were never snakes in Ireland to begin with. However, the snake represented the devil and all kinds of evil. Metaphorically, he drove the “snakes”, the Druids and paganism, from Ireland. That makes sense except that there are “snakes” in Ireland just like everywhere else in the world. That’s unfortunate but true…

Saint Patrick lived a difficult life as a Christian. He suffered enslavement to a Druid warlord and later escaped back to his beloved Britain but chose willingly to return to Ireland to spread the gospel. There he was threatened with death, survived several assassination attempts, more enslavement, and continued ridicule and harassment. Still, he chose to remain and be faithful to his spiritual calling.

I often wonder how he could have continued in the face of such resistance – how he could have continued to be kind to his enemies. I’ve been thinking a lot about kindness and what it means to truly be kind. It’s difficult in the best of times but even more so when faced with the current political climate, deep divisions, Christian nationalism and yes, road rage (I’m talking about myself). I strive to live kindly towards all, but I often fall woefully short. What does it mean to be kind to even my “enemies”?

I’ve spent many hours researching what kindness is all about and how to exercise kindness (not “niceness” which is a whole other story…) in my life. I found this little gem in today’s reading:

“No matter how misguided some opinions may be, I do not have to be the purveyor and filterer of all the truth in the world, and sometimes my inside voice needs to stay right where it is: inside”

– Bruce Reyes-Chow, “In Defense of Kindness – Why It Matters, How It Changes Our Lives, and How It Can Save the World

It dawned on me that the majority of the problems in my life are the result of speaking aloud what should remain as my inside voice. I tend to be an open book. While vulnerability and real communication is something we all could use more of, striking the balance between our “inside” and “outside” voice is something I struggle with.

I have to leave for the farm in a bit so I’m asking God to help me watch the inside voice today. If you struggle with your inside voice coming out at some inappropriate times I’d love to hear how you’re learning to keep it inside. I’d love to hear specifics about how you treat those who often make the inside voice go crazy because quite frankly, there’s a lot of snakes out there…