Wendell Berry considering the changing American landscape in The Atlantic this month. He addresses the subtle way that a connection to physical place, to the actual soil, complements cultural experience. And how losing a connection with one can mean the loss of cultural diversity:
I have my own memories of the survival in a small rural community of its own stories. By telling and retelling those stories, people told themselves who they were, where they were, and what they had done. They thus maintained in ordinary conversation their own living history. And I have from my neighbor, John Harrod, a thorough student of Kentucky’s traditional fiddle music, his testimony that every rural community once heard, sang, and danced to at least a few tunes that were uniquely its own. What is the economic value of stories and songs? What is the economic value of the lived and living life of a community? My argument here is directed by my belief that the art and the life of settled rural communities are critical to our life-supporting economy. But their value is incalculable. It can only be acknowledged and respected, and our present economy is incapable, and cannot on its own terms be made capable, of such acknowledgement and respect.
If you’re into any of this, it’s worth checking out Berry’s entire piece. It speaks in a big way to my belief in The Nittany Valley Society‘s value.