Loving Little America: We Start with You
Look at the beauty marks we've earned.
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Maybe it's just me, and hopefully, it is, but we have this enormously monumental birthday celebration right around the corner, with 250 candles needing to be lit, and it's been two-and-a-half centuries in the making, and I don't really feel like it's getting the build-up attention it's due.
America, we're turning 250. In a baker's dozen weeks.
(Some mornings, I feel 250.) Think about the wrinkles and beauty marks we've earned: tea parties, underground railroads, malice towards none, bison, little houses on the prairie, Monticello gardens and golden spikes and the Declaration and Sojourner Truth and Miles Davis and Gertrude Ederle, peanuts in Georgia, amber waves in Kansas, the quiet fog rolling in through the redwoods. The tapestry is more beautiful than we could ever describe.
Shouldn't there be a pre-party and previews? A soft opening before the grandness of July 4? Am I missing something?
(We've got astronauts hula-hooping around the moon!)
Ten years ago, I would have cast blame. Cracked my knuckles and written a blistering essay on who's fault this is.
Now? Criticism is so tiring. Blame stops working when it becomes the default.
So, we'll start the party a bit more ourselves.
Over the next 13 weeks, Food as a Verb will celebrate some of its favorite things about America. What we love. What we cherish. Sort of Ken Burns meets Maria Von Trapp — I see you, Karen Persinger — as we celebrate a few of our favorite things.
America's a big whopper of a place, so we'll focus mainly on our little corner of the map. Our Little America.
Where do we start?
Oh, that's the easiest.
People.
We love ... you. The folks around us. Chattanoogans, north Georgia, north Alabama, up the road towards Knoxville, definitely the people on Monteagle and in the valleys.
Folks are folks. Sad and angry at times, but resilient, steady and far quicker to generosity and love than walling-off.
We've seen this a thousand times if we've seen it once; and we're not traveling in partisan circles, either.
I don't particularly care what big/social media says anymore — it has lost its integrity — so the little America we find here is full of goodness and rich, really rich relationships.
People care, tremendously, about the world around them.
People act, frequently and with great vision, trying to help reduce the heartache and wobble.
Even if that means being steady yourself.
And committing to something that's greater.
Like community.
Maybe it's easier to see, less sepia, more black and white these days, with a heightened sense — both perceived and real — of division, stress and enemy-making.
Fine. Either way, we aren't fools. We know what we know; we know what we've seen and who we've talked to and embraced and laughed and even cried with.
Famous people, but by the measurements society normally uses.
Famous, by the heart.
Little America in Chattanooga, we love you.
There's so much worth loving.
Onto Hixson High, where Lee Friedlander continues his all-star performance guiding students there into agriculture and growing food.
On April 10 and 11, his students hold their annual plant sale.
Two years ago, we visited with Lee Friedlander and his remarkable team of students, who are growing food for the Hixson student body and staff along with the community.
This plant sale is one of their biggest fundraisers.
They offer more than 100 plants and varieties — see it here — which benefit their ongoing work.
And, this Thursday, Raven Humphrey hosts her fourth Evening of Amaro event at Calliope.
She's reaching up high and low for these bottles, sharing with us some secret and special amaros that generally aren't discussed or offered.
Never had amaro? Always been curious?
Want to laugh? Hear Raven tell stories and histories (and her-stories) of the ancient digestif?
Want to sample several tastings of amaro while enjoying small bites from Calliope?
Come join us. Thursday, 6 pm. The last remaining tickets can be found here.
Finally, for Sunday, we've got a huge celebratory story for you. Talk about loving this corner of America.
A picture says it all.
Story ideas, questions, feedback? Interested in partnering with us? Email: david@foodasaverb.com
This story is 100% human generated; no AI chatbot was used in the creation of this content.
Maybe it's just me, and hopefully, it is, but we have this enormously monumental birthday celebration right around the corner, with 250 candles needing to be lit, and it's been two-and-a-half centuries in the making, and I don't really feel like it's getting the build-up attention it's due.
America, we're turning 250. In a baker's dozen weeks.
(Some mornings, I feel 250.) Think about the wrinkles and beauty marks we've earned: tea parties, underground railroads, malice towards none, bison, little houses on the prairie, Monticello gardens and golden spikes and the Declaration and Sojourner Truth and Miles Davis and Gertrude Ederle, peanuts in Georgia, amber waves in Kansas, the quiet fog rolling in through the redwoods. The tapestry is more beautiful than we could ever describe.
Shouldn't there be a pre-party and previews? A soft opening before the grandness of July 4? Am I missing something?
(We've got astronauts hula-hooping around the moon!)
Ten years ago, I would have cast blame. Cracked my knuckles and written a blistering essay on who's fault this is.
Now? Criticism is so tiring. Blame stops working when it becomes the default.
So, we'll start the party a bit more ourselves.
Over the next 13 weeks, Food as a Verb will celebrate some of its favorite things about America. What we love. What we cherish. Sort of Ken Burns meets Maria Von Trapp — I see you, Karen Persinger — as we celebrate a few of our favorite things.
America's a big whopper of a place, so we'll focus mainly on our little corner of the map. Our Little America.
Where do we start?
Oh, that's the easiest.
People.
We love ... you. The folks around us. Chattanoogans, north Georgia, north Alabama, up the road towards Knoxville, definitely the people on Monteagle and in the valleys.
Folks are folks. Sad and angry at times, but resilient, steady and far quicker to generosity and love than walling-off.
We've seen this a thousand times if we've seen it once; and we're not traveling in partisan circles, either.
I don't particularly care what big/social media says anymore — it has lost its integrity — so the little America we find here is full of goodness and rich, really rich relationships.
People care, tremendously, about the world around them.
People act, frequently and with great vision, trying to help reduce the heartache and wobble.
Even if that means being steady yourself.
And committing to something that's greater.
Like community.
Maybe it's easier to see, less sepia, more black and white these days, with a heightened sense — both perceived and real — of division, stress and enemy-making.
Fine. Either way, we aren't fools. We know what we know; we know what we've seen and who we've talked to and embraced and laughed and even cried with.
Famous people, but by the measurements society normally uses.
Famous, by the heart.
Little America in Chattanooga, we love you.
There's so much worth loving.
Onto Hixson High, where Lee Friedlander continues his all-star performance guiding students there into agriculture and growing food.
On April 10 and 11, his students hold their annual plant sale.
Two years ago, we visited with Lee Friedlander and his remarkable team of students, who are growing food for the Hixson student body and staff along with the community.
This plant sale is one of their biggest fundraisers.
They offer more than 100 plants and varieties — see it here — which benefit their ongoing work.
And, this Thursday, Raven Humphrey hosts her fourth Evening of Amaro event at Calliope.
She's reaching up high and low for these bottles, sharing with us some secret and special amaros that generally aren't discussed or offered.
Never had amaro? Always been curious?
Want to laugh? Hear Raven tell stories and histories (and her-stories) of the ancient digestif?
Want to sample several tastings of amaro while enjoying small bites from Calliope?
Come join us. Thursday, 6 pm. The last remaining tickets can be found here.
Finally, for Sunday, we've got a huge celebratory story for you. Talk about loving this corner of America.
A picture says it all.
Story ideas, questions, feedback? Interested in partnering with us? Email: david@foodasaverb.com
This story is 100% human generated; no AI chatbot was used in the creation of this content.
Food as a verb thanks our story sponsor:
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