the milk mob

The second meeting started with an act of civil disobedience: we drank milk.

Mr. W. brought it over. Two foaming pitchers full along with a tray of fresh baked hand pies & sugar dusted cookies. He placed them on the slopping tree stump next to Ms C.'s allotment of canned soda and water bottles.

Had someone driven by Ms.C's house they would have seen 2 real cowboys dressed to the nines; Nephi under a wide brim cowboy hat and James (Mr. W.) tan and crisp, polished from head to toe. With them Mr Barlow, who I would personally consider the sitting king of 10th West, 2 housewife, a tow tuck driver, Ms. C, & a politician in a circle drinking unpasteurized milk and plotting to take over the world.

Okay, not the world but a small section of the city zoning code.  

We were given 3 options. Option 1: prove continual use from the 1950's and then follow the updated city regulations regarding use. Which for the real farming families was too narrow of a scope. And for the families who haven't lived here that long hard to prove usage. Heads all around the circle shook "no". 

Option 2: pay the huge filing fee and the fee per applying acre and fight the fight to change the size definition of an agricultural lot (in these parts) then reinstate the properties in question to agricultural. As I understand it the current size required for consideration is 2 acres. Only Nephi's family meets that. 

Option 3: apply for individual agricultural business licences, pay the annual fee and hang on the mercy of the city's ever changing policies. Not a crowd please-er. And actually we would have been one of the few families it would even halfway work for because we sell our eggs and produce when we have it. 

The vote was easy. Everyone raised their hands in support of Option 2. 

We would raise the money to file. I couldn't help but to know that some of us struggle to buy groceries. Some of us don't go to the doctor as often as we should. Some of us don't have everything we really need... but everyone was willing to dig even deeper to do the right thing for the land.

Kyle, our City Councilman, brought out a plot map with all our properties and acreages marked. The R & B farmstead comes in at .80 but that is without the ~.06 of an acre strip of land on the south side of our propertied that we purchased a few years back from the mosquito abatement guys. 

We aren't the smallest lot. There are others in the circle that come in around 1/2 an acre. We would have to run numbers to find the target acreage to present to the city. I offered that if the magic number came in higher than us little guys that we would still fight the fight standing with the bigger farms. Even if we didn't get personally protected it was worth doing.

Mr W. smiled his deep, knowing John Wayne smile at me, "Misty, we are all in this together."

A another meeting was scheduled. This one at city hall to talk about the filing. Kyle asked for a few representatives to attend with him: Ms. C, Mr. W, Nephi, and me. 

On a side note: I tried my best to defer my spot. I might joke about the godfather thing but I am not really a strong leader, or even a real adult. And I am a woman. 

Now, no one get angry. Being a woman is a very powerful thing to be. We are not the weaker sex. And I believe we have the right to take any role, any job, any position we wish with full legal equality. But that includes being able to take/choose a tradition one.

There is nothing political or humble in my view of myself or my sex. I personally like to lead from the rear. I would much rather be working among the "wives" than standing on the front lines with the "men". I am better suited to service and advisory roles than leadership.      

But the circle wasn't willing to let me get off that easy. The meeting with the city is scheduled for later this afternoon. I'll let you know what we learn. 

Until then what I do know is that down here on this street where the chickens run free none of us are wealthy but the families on 10th West sure are rich.

"If you're in trouble, or hurt or need - go to the poor people.  They're the only ones that'll help - the only ones." John Steinbeck.