Bedlam Farm Blog Journal by Jon Katz

I think my politics are pretty obvious, even though I don’t like to write  about politics the on the blog, it’s not what the blog is about. But living in rural America, my soul bleeds for what the economists, politicians, trade agreements and bureaucrats have done to this word.

Rural America has been hallowed out, its Main Streets ravaged by box stores, it’s factories and farms dying or gone, it’s very heart and culture sucked away by rich cities and urban planners.

These towns and cities have been ravaged and abandoned for so long, there is very little memory of security and prosperity. Rural America’s children have migrated to cities to work in jobs they hate for people who care nothing about them.

People here don’t follow their callings anymore, they have jobs, they earn what they can when their can. Many thousands of the rural  young die from opioids every year while the rich get tax cuts they don’t need. The giant agri-farms keep their cows and pigs and chickens on concrete their whole lives and kill them the minute they can’t produce what they used to produce.

The family dairy farms are almost ground, the survivors handing on by their fingernails.

As a kind of hybrid artist – a writer and photographer, I am drawn to this landscape – poverty and loss against a beautiful backdrop, and also against despair and disconnection. Donald Trump is no surprise to me or anybody who lives here, he was long over due. If not him, someone else would have noticed the hollowing out of the country and exploited it.

The people up here are so desperate for someone to notice and care. They would have elected Daffy Duck if he made the right noises. I first saw this red farm truck abandoned off the side of a busy road a year ago. It still sits there, and will probably be sitting there in 50 years.

The rural landscape is barren sometimes, set against the beauty of mother nature. A contradiction always. It is not pretty, but it s beautiful in its own way – abandoned farmhouses, trucks, cars, tractors, the detritus of a once vibrant and prosperous world.

Real farms were never the picture postcards they sell in Vermont, they are filled with junk and used things that might be pillaged for parts down the road. No farmer buys anything new. Now most of the farmers are gone, but they have left behind symbols and monuments to their rich and powerful family culture.

I want to capture some of those images in photos before they are all gone.

Kathy Sosa and Eh K Pru Shee Wah)

Whenever I go to see Kathy Sosa in her basement classroom (30 students) at the Hackett Middle School in Albany, I am reminded that you don’t need to be a soldier in combat to be a hero.

Kathy is a teacher who cares deeply about her students and who fights for them every day. I have yet to count all the jobs she takes, day and night, every day, to pay for two daughters in college and the regular bills.

She works all the time, she always has time for her pupils.

I was ashamed for my country when she told me how much she earns, and how hard she has to work for it. We have lost perspective and a sense of morality. Our priorities are upside down. Kathy could be angry, even bitter, but she helps her students every single day and worries about them.

She’s worth ten times what a Minor League baseball player makes, and  earns a tenth of what they are paid.

She was the teacher who recommended Eh K Pru to me, and  who helped her apply. Whenever I see them together, I wish that every child in America could have or know a teacher like Kathy, who will fight like a tiger to teach them,  help them, and push them forward.

Eh K Pru told me the only reason she even briefly considered staying at the Hackett School was that “Mrs. Sosa” wasn’t teaching there.

Kathy is one of the most admirable people I know, a hero to me. She is bounded and grounded, she pulls people up, never tears them down. That is pretty heroic to me. I am so happy to have found such a partner in this work.

I am going to help this young man I met today, I am determined find a way. He deserves our support and consideration. I understand that this hard work with long odds but I feel it is possible.

When I hear a story like Noorul Hotak’s, it’s stab in the heart to hear people talk about immigrants as rapists, killers, liars and thieves. It just hurts. Today, I met a remarkable young man named Noorul Hotak, he is thirteen years old.

Kathy Sosa, his teacher at the Hackett Middle School in Albany, asked me to come to the school to meet Noorul, she said he was a brilliant student, he had never missed a day of school or a test, and was an “amazing pupil.”

He needs an environment with strong  teachers, small classes and an embrace of academic achievement. We met just after school got out at 3 p.m., Kathy serves popcorn and snacks and sugar-free soda to her students. It was such a lift to see how much she loves them and how much they love her.

Noorul and I said down at one of the desks and talked together for about a half hour.  He was interested in my farm, and why I was there and what I liked about it.

He has been in America for two years, I was shocked to hear he didn’t know a word of English when he came to this country from Afghanistan by way of Pakistan, where his mother and her three sons fled.

Like most refugees I meet, he had a hard and wrenching story to tell.

His father, a physician, died just before Noorul was born, he contracted a disease he was trying to save children from. Noorul is painfully shy, I couldn’t get him to smile until I took my hat off and told him to look at my bald spot.

That always seems to work.

I got him to laugh a few times, but it took awhile.

There are five levels of achievement at the Hackett Middle School in Albany: Sure-Entering, Emerging, Transitioning, Expanding and Commanding. Noorul rose to the last and highest level in less than two years, while learning how to speak English, which he speaks fluently now.

He is an honors student, Kathy say she is one of the smartest and best students she has ever met. Initially, I balked at trying to get two kids into private schools this year, but Kathy badgered me until I cam to meet him. I was also blown away.

I had no idea English wasn’t his natural language until I asked.

He remembers that his family led a middle class life in Afghanistan, although he also remembers the fear  that permeated Herat, his town.

There were fears of bombings and assassinations and  killings, but mostly the fear was about the kidnapping of children for ransom.

Several of his family members were taken that way, they all were eventually returned, but his mother decided to leave.  It was getting too close. They went to Pakistan, then got to come to America. He’s not sure how. I am meeting his mother next week.

In America, she is working 10 hours a day at Wal-Mart, she cooks in the bakery. Noorul’s favorite subject is math, he hopes to go to college and be an engineer. They have a small apartment in Albany.

I hope I can  help him get into the right school. He needs to get to college, and probably on a scholarship. He is smart enough for that.

I know I will need a lot of help myself if I take this on.

Kathy and I have agreed that he should apply to the Albany Academy, where Eh K Pru is going. I am not at all sure that the school will consider another gifted  refugee student this year, I will find out next week. If not, I will contact other private schools in the area.

I want to fight hard for this young man, he is worthy and especially gifted. Kathy could not say enough about how smart and hard-working he is. I know it’s a tough task this late in the academic year, but I haven’t failed yet, I hope to keep the streak going.

Maria say’s I’m frightening when I get determined. We’ll see. Isn’t this what it’s all about, fighting for the worthy and the vulnerable.

As Kathy pointed out today, we make a great team. She has a great passion for teaching and supporting her students, many of whom are poor and vulnerable. I pray we can do this. He would benefit any school.

I could see that behind that shyness is a person of great strength and character. His accomplishments since coming to America are remarkable, it seems to me that this is exactly the kind of person we want to come to America and share the opportunity here.

So I’m going to try to figure this out. I’m meeting with the Albany Academy people next week, I’ll start there. What a gift it is to be able to help someone like this, even if I don’t know how yet.

A retired Skidmore College editor is writing a blog about her efforts to train Gus, her donkey. It’s a good story for people who care about donkeys. There are not too many of us, but we are hooked. it’s called Donkey Train, and is about the things donkeys teach  us while we think we are teaching them. Thanks to Kathyrn for letting me know about it.

When you enter the world of donkeys, you will never stay the same.

The Army Of Good is into the Ruth and Wayne wedding, set for the Mansion on May 15. Ruth says she is limiting attendance to the staff and residents of the Mansion, although she said yesterday she only wants people to come who do not “speak negatively” about her, Wayne, or one another.

People from the AOG  are asking me for some details so they can make and send things. I am hoping to grow in my new role as wedding planner. There is no official color. I expect the crowd to be around 30 people.

I’m wondering if I should have some invitations printed up. I’ll ask Ruth and Wayne about it. Probably not necessary, as all of the attendees will come from the Mansion itself.

I am ordering a wedding cake, flowers, corsages, food (cupcakes and cookies and punch), buying some clothes for Wayne, hiring a musician, getting some angel pins and other things they both decide they want. They have no money to offer. I’ve already gotten clothes for Ruth, she came to the Mansion with nothing much to wear.

I’ll keep you posted. You can help by sending some flowers (closer to the date), decorations, favors, posters, anything creative that comes from your hearts. I feel like these are our children deciding to get married.

I’m the Best Man, an honor for me, I get to hold the rings, shown above.

Thanks for the donations, so far, I’ve gotten between $400 and $500. I like a few hundred more to do this right. It always costs more than I think it will, the money streams out like a creek in the Spring.

I don’t want this to be lavish in any way, but I do want it to be special and right. This is a wonderful thing these two are doing, and it has touched the hearts of the residents and staff of the Mansion deeply.

If you can or wish, you can donate via Paypal, [email protected] or by check, Jon Katz, Wedding, P.O. Box 205 Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

I found a florist in nearby Salem who can help with the corsages, floral arrangements and individual carnations to put on the wedding party. More to come, I’m going to do a Wedding Party Journal, as you can see.