transportation and the environment: air travel

In 1990, I did two big things.

First, I sold my car. It was an '81 Ford Escort, the last year they made a 4-speed stick shift in this model. It had been my Dad's, and when he learned it had virtually NO trade-in value he decided to make a present of it to me, for the cost of title transfer. I drove that car for three years and used it mostly to get to my job downtown (where parking was free) and to haul my drum kit to gigs.
Over time I discovered that my night vision was growing worse, and that the car wasn't in such great shape, either.  I sold the car in July 1990, and never looked back.

The next thing I did was to buy a better bicycle. I had a very old five-speed city bike that weighed a ton and looked cool, but was impractical for where I lived and for the kind of riding I aspired to. So I took the money from the sale of the car (a whopping $600) and put some of it towards a new Trek mountain bike.

These were two of the best decisions I'd ever made.

I rode to work in all weather after that, and if someone wanted to hire me for a gig, they had to arrange for transportation for me and my drums. (Since I was a pretty decent drummer, the folks who really needed me were generally happy to provide a ride.)

From 1990 until 2012, my bicycle was my primary mode of transportation.
In 2012, things began to shift. I left Citybikes and full-time work in the bicycle industry), and began to build a career as a touring Jewish artist- and educator-in-residence. I had to tour because there simply wasn't enough paying Jewish music and teaching work in Portland. There still isn't and for someone like me there probably never will be.

The result of that reality is that I've had to build a nice little career through touring. I've been blessed to travel all over this beautiful country and meet some pretty amazing people. I've even made some pretty lovely friends as a result of my travels. But through it all, I've had a nagging feeling that, while this constituted "right livelihood" as far as my work and talents went, it was a lousy livelihood for the planet.

I have struggled with this ever since I decided to focus on music and teaching in the Jewish world.
My family and friends have tried to reassure me that, with my many years of sustainable travel, I've surely not even begun to burn up all those good effects by a few years of air travel.
I'm not so sure. Because the fact is that air travel is especially horrible for the Earth, and more peoplethan ever are choosing air travel as their first transportation choice when it comes to cross-country -- or cross-region -- trips.

But when I live in Portland, and the high-paying gig that will cover half the mortgage on our crappy-lovely little house is in Florida, what am I supposed to do?
Portland is home. My family is here and my friends are mostly here. The way I live is centered around a place where I can depend on strong public transit and bike-accessible roadways, amenities most cities with large Jewish communities simply do not offer.
I'm an independent freelancer and moving to Florida would not guarantee me ongoing work.
Plus, I can't work full-time anymore anyway. But that's another discussion for later.

The truth is that this career change has serious implications for me, for you, and for the future of the planet. I'm not sure how much longer I can sustain it without feeling like I'm the villain here.

This weekend, a whole lot of my Jewish music colleagues and friends are meeting in the middle of the country at a camp and retreat facility, for one of the most important professional conferences of the year. Some of my friends have attended this event every year for decades, because it's kind of like a little summer camp for them.

Conferences are important for many professions.
They allow people in different parts of the country to network, to share ideas and to forge friendships that are otherwise sustained across the miles all year long. But some conferences continue to offer mostly the same workshops and activities year to year, and past a certain point, one has to wonder how efficient it is to keep going back for the same thing each year. I attended this conference just once, seventeen years ago. It was amazing and eye-opening and I'm glad I went. But it was also clear that this was not something I needed to attend every year, especially considering the financial costs and the fact that the synagogue I was affiliated with would not help with expenses. So at the end of the day, I knew I wouldn't be back.

Since then, I've gone to several conferences. As of this writing I've only returned to one conference, each of the past three years. I had hoped that by returning I might gain a foothold of some kind of recognition and advancement in that conference's universe, and that at some point I might become an instructor for that conference, which happened this year. I'm grateful for the experiences and the warm atmosphere this conference offers. And I'm so glad that my workshops were well-attended and appreciated. But at the end of the day, does it make sense for me to keep going back?
I'm not sure.

Because I keep coming back to the villany of air travel, and what it's doing to the Earth. Some scientists say our planet has only 60 or 70 years left before it's too hot for humans to live here. (At least one famous scientist says that fatal benchmark is coming a whole lot sooner.)

I love what I do.
I love where I live.
And I HATE what some of my choices are doing to the planet.

The good part, if there is one, is that I'm not thinking of eliminating ALL travel forever. Because this dilemma is not entirely on me to begin with.
I know that the US military is the largest consumer of fossil fuels; that travel decreases xenophobia and increases understanding of cultures different than our own; and that the real onus for managing climate change through excessive fossil fuel consumption must fall on governments and industries, not on the individual consumer.

The bad part is that if we want governments and industries to act we are going to have to push them to the wall. And one way to do that is by traveling less. A lot less.

Staying put also gives us time and energy to invest in strengthening the communities where we live. And while the community I've been affiliated with for the last decade-plus has made me consider looking elsewhere for another community to affiliate with, that new community will still be here in Portland. Because I believe in blooming where one is planted. And Portland's big enough that I can find something, someone -- some other folks -- to create community with.

I'm not talking about completely shutting down my life beyond the walls of my house. Nor am I talking about staying in Portland forever. My in-laws are elderly and need our help, and they're a 12-hour drive south of us. I have no hesitation about making that trip anytime, because that's what you do for your parents if you're a loving, responsible adult child. And since my career is still active, I'm making a point of working to find gigs closer to home -- staying on the West Coast when I can, for example -- because if I can take the train or the bus my carbon footprint will be smaller by far.
(I'm 5'7". I fit in the seats on a bus. It's not a problem.)

But I am talking about reevaluating how and why I travel in the coming months and years. Because I really need to, and because I think we all need to.

Today my colleagues arrive at their large conference in the Midwest, flying in from all over the country and a few from outside it. Next week I will be downtown at a Climate Action Event in which young people have taken the lead. Because we trashed their future. I'm willing to own that, and to answer for it. Are you?

(final photo, above: one of our beloved horse rings, hundreds of which can be found all over the oldest parts of Portland. Dating to before the turn of the last century; used to tie up horses while you visited a friend or the market. These little iron rings are protected historic landmarks, and removing one will cost you a lot of money.)

messenger bags for non-bikey travel

I like messenger-specific bags.
The best ones are made of cordura, reinforced with double-stitching and bar tacks at the stress-points, have a waterproof lining and are large enough to offer some flexibility in what you choose to bring on any given trip.

For the last four years I've used a Chrome "Ivan" backpack, now the largest roll-top backpack they make. Dimensions of 21" wide x 23" height x 7" deep make this a pretty darned roomy bag, and yet, thanks to its slimmer profile I've been able to fill it and slip past the ticket agent and get it on the plane as carry-on. But it barely makes the cut for most airlines' carry-on restrictions.
It meets are the criteria listed above, but when you fill it to capacity it becomes less comfortable to carry due to the "yoke" system used for the shoulder straps.
Plus, in recent trips where I've had to be gone for up to a week at a time, it simply won't hold enough to get me through a week of classes, workshops, services and shows unless I want to wear the same three shirts, one pair each of slacks and shoes the whole trip and still have room for multiple books, music, teaching accessories, cords and laptop.



















 So I've been casting about for an even larger backpack that's messenger tough, yet sized so I can sneak it aboard as carry-on in addition to my guitar (which MUST be carry-on).

For the last several months, I've been taking a hard look at Chrome's Warsaw II messenger backpack. This thing is built to serve professional bike messengers, with a shape and [flat volume] capacity of 24" x 25" 6" (more if you expand the compression straps and stuff the outer pockets and "hidden" compartment, too), allowing them to transport even huge cardboard boxes by bike. I'm not ever going to transport anything that large, and certainly never on a bicycle -- those days are happily far behind me now -- but the capacity means it could be the ticket for those week-long road trips where I'd like to get away without needing a checked bag.

This week, I scored one used for roughly half of what a new one would cost, with free shipping, online. It arrived today, and when I sat the two backpacks side-by-side, I realized that, even with the loss of some top-loading capacity (The Warsaw is not a rolltop, but has a long buckled front flap), the Warsaw II still has more capacity for the thigns I'm likely to carry. Sneaking it past a ticket agent might be a little harder -- the bag is not as slim-lined and has squared sides and bottom -- but I might be able to make it work because when it's all closed up it's height is a little shorter than that of the Ivan. It seems worth the risk. So I 'll use it on the first of my fall and winter mini-tours this year, and I'll report back with a comparison.  (And after I do, one of these two bags will be for sale.)

spread the love!

(This is a cross-post from my music blog)

Dear friends of my music:

I love that you love my music. I love that you write to me to tell me so. And I love meeting you when I travel. And I would LOVE to meet more of you in person!
So I hope you can help me out a bit.

I want to book dates for Fall 2015 and beyond. Because synagogue clergy and boards tend to plan well in advance, I want to get on their radar as soon as possible. Living in Portland, I am somewhat removed from major centers of North American Jewish life. But a lot of my fans live in those centers, or near them.

So here's what you can do:
Become part of my team.
Tell the people in your community about me. Play my music for them, Invite them to check out my web site and my YouTube channel. And if you have any connection at all to a rabbi, cantor or education director, I am asking you to Spread The Love -- the love of music, the love of Judaism and the Jewish people -- among them in particular.

I especially want to bring my music to Jewish communities in the Eastern half of the United States. So if you live in New York, Philadelphia, New Jersey -- or in the Southeast (Atlanta, Miami, New Orleans?), PLEASE spread the word.

BONUS: Anyone who can provide me with solid lead that results in my booking a visit will get:
--an exclusive bonus download from The Next Album (as yet untitled), for which I've been writing new songs;
--if you live in the city I will visit, we can have dinner together and hang out; and
--if you're a member or staffer at the synagogue where I book my appearance, I will meet with you to talk about any topic in the prayerbook you want and then get to work writing a musical setting of the text we talk about.

Thank you in advance for your participation in this next part of the journey! I hope to visit your town soon!

compromises and realities: how much of a difference do my choices make?

I am suddenly invited to take a hard look at a set of values I have long held dear, as my professional landscape continues to evolve and expand. For some people it's about what they eat, or where (and by whom) their clothes are made. For me, it's about how I get around. And if I am to expand my professional opportunities it is becoming clearer than ever that I will have to travel more often. That means I have to consider the way I get from place to place. 

I cannot avoid air travel, and yet every fiber of my being rebels against the possibility that there will be more, not less, air travel in my life as my professional opportunities expand. The fact is that in many cases, bus or train travel will simply not be practical for getting to some gigs. I wonder if the other compromises I can make -- traveling by bicycle in my destination city, or staying within walking distance of the gig -- will make any meaningful difference; or if I am deluding myself and will have to confront the ugly truth of how big a footprint my career evolution will make. 

As someone who, for decades, has espoused the ideal of reducing my hypermobility, of living more locally as well as simply, I am now facing the prospect of more air travel than ever before. Synagogues want to fly me in, not once or twice a year, but in one possible scenario, twice a month for a whole year! That amount of air travel changes the equation, and forces me to look at just how "sustainable" a life I can still make for myself if I keep following this dream.

The fact is that I cannot make the dream happen if I only do this work in Portland. I have to take out-of-town gigs in larger Jewish communities, because Portland's Jewish community is simply not large enough to provide me with enough employment -- or with the professional development and training that I so badly want and need to grow my skill set further. My partner and I are not willing to permanently relocate -- our lives and families and community are deeply rooted here. So when opportunities for out-of-town gigs arise, I have to look at them seriously. And that means I also have to look at my values about transportation and personal choice.

I have no easy answers right now. But clearly I'm going to have to look very closely at some values I've held dear for a long time, and hold them up against the dream I want so badly to follow now. How much more am I harming the world around me by following a dream that requires more unsustainable travel? Who will I be if I make certain, seemingly necessary compromises? And what will my life be about? 

the bicycle scene as circular firing squad: just another morning in pdx

This weekend began with reports of a terrible collision between a bicycle and a car:

http://bikeportland.org/2014/03/28/collision-at-killingsworth-and-cully-injures-man-on-bike-103657

The bicycle rider cut the corner to avoid a traffic light at a busy intersection, and in the process he slammed into a car when coming out the other side of the corner. Police reports state that the rider was traveling very fast (whatever that actually means on a bicycle) and not wearing a helmet. He suffered life-threatening injuries but is expected to survive. The driver of the car remained at the scene and is cooperating fully with the investigation.

Over at BikePortland's report, comments run the gamut from accusing the bicyclist of reckless behavior to accusing the car culture for existing in the first place. 

What troubles me are the multiple divisions that appear in the comments section:

--between fast bicyclists and slow ones;

--between those who ride with a helmet and those who ride without;

--between those who continue to berate the entire auto-centric landscape of society and those who have decided life is too short to tilt at impossible windmills.

Basically, the bicycle "community" is showing itsself to be less a community and more a circular firing squad, with each faction accusing other factions of not being enough like the right faction. we see this behavior all the time in radical and fundamentalist movements. I should not be surprised to
sese it in the bike scene as well; after all, an adult who eschews car ownership and chooses to ride a
a bike everywhere is still a radical in American society, even in liberal communities where their
friends may look on with admiration. Underneath the admiration there is still, often, a senses that the
adult bike rider is someone who hasn't yet finished growing up.

I feel less of this sting than I used to, but I perceive that it's often still an undertone in the conversation.

As I get older, and slower, and less energetic due to aging and a short list of ailemnts that amplify with time, I find I'm torn between the bicycle warriors who decry car culture; and those who are
reaching the conclusion that we've already lost the argument and have only to live out our days with
as much grace and calm as we can until nature (or, heaven forbid, a car) causes us to fall off the bicycle for good.

I go back and forth. Some days I am still the bicycle warrior and other days I just want to ride to the store and ride  home again. The wavering is probably normal, but it does. make it hard some days for me to
know how to proceed. Mostly, I find myself growing more weary of the arguments within the bicycle scene, which only serve to divide people at the expense of a cohesive, more thoughtful response to the ravages of a hundred years of automobile dependence. I also find too many younger bicycle enthusiasts have taken an almost nihilistic turn of thinking, as the planet they've inherited from my 
generation seems to have fallen farther and farther down a rabbit hole of no return. If we really are going to hell in a handbasket, why shout it from the rooftops? What good does that serve if we are, as 
many of this younger generation insist, too late? Why not instead continue to fight the good fight -- 
whatever that is for each of us -- and support each other in our efforts to make a positive difference?

In June I will travel once again to the Kansas City area, to serve a large Jewish congregation for a
month as their artist-in-residence. As I did last year, I will enjoy homestay hospitality in a private
residence not too far from the synagogue, and I will ride a bicycle and tow my guitar back and for in
a borrowed trailer. (Last year, the loaner bicycle they procured for me was so small for me that even riding it with a taller seatpost installed, it was still too short; my knees hurt for a month after I got home. This year they've agreed to pay the shipping cost for me to bring along a bike in my size, which is still far cheaper than renting a car for me.)
My first presence in their very car-centric landscape had worried several people, but when they saw that I managed quite well without a car, thanks much, they were surprised and impressed. and best of all, though I  cannot prove this, perhaps my little visits may have some long-lasting effect on the kids I teach there, who remember me as the wacky, guitar-playing bicycle lady from Portland and who are looking forward to seeing me again. I'm looking forward to it, too.

and finally, a response from hazon

To review: in an earlier post I laid out my concerns about Hazon's programming and the enormous carbon footprint it creates, even as it tries to promote environmental sustainability. Roughly a month later, and after a gentle reminder email that said I was still interested in an answer, I received this response today from Liore Milgron-Elcott at Hazon HQ:

Dear Beth,

Firstly, I apologize that it has taken this long to get back to you - your questions are ones that we struggle with constantly and I appreciate your sincerity. Though we do provide resources on our website, curricula that can be mailed and conference calls, our most significant impact is through our conferences and rides, where people fly, drive and cycle from all over. Yes, that carbon footprint is real, and I will honestly add, not just to get people to the events, but to run them, as well.

I will not go into climate change here - I am pretty sure that you and I are on the same page on the science. But what we do is hard to measure in tons of carbon equivalence.

For instance, as a result of one of our conferences, a young woman chose to become an organic farmer/chef, which inspired her father to do one of our rides, which got him on his bike - not just for fun, but to commute - which decreased the family's need for a car, so they sold it. Then, they took the land next to their family business and turned it into an organic farm, which now feeds the community through CSAs and volunteer opportunities.

There are tangible, environmental benefits that come through our programs, but that, too, is not it. A serious motivation for our work is the establishment and renewal of the Jewish community. All across America, there are pockets of Jews who are engaging seriously with the land - through food and outdoors adventures. For the most part, they function alone, but our conferences provide people with a sense of community, inspiring them to continue on with their work and empowering them to live out a vision that they dared not commit to alone.

Separately, we buy carbon offsets for many of our programs and encourage all participants, especially to the Israel Ride, to offset their flights.

Again, I apologize that it has taken me so long to respond. I would be happy to continue this conversation via email or at the number below.

All the best,

Liore

I think this response raises nearly as many questions as it tries to answer, not all of which can be answered by Hazon:

1. How effective are carbon offsets? If the purpose is simply to assuage guilt over the impact of our carbon footprint when we travel, then it definitely works. Lots of people buy shares in wind energy and water reclamation projects as they redeem their frequent-flier miles and travel all over the world. But if we try to measure effectiveness in real time and space, can we ever buy enough carbon offsets to truly correct against the impact of thousands of miles of car and air travel -- before that impact permanently harms the earth? I'm not so sure.

2. If another purpose of Hazon is to foster Jewish community, I understand that. Those who identify as Jews (whether by birth or by choice) are already a far-flung people, spread all over the globe but still making up less than 3% of the world's population. Most of our history as a cohesive people has been spent in Diaspora, meaning we've had to foster a sense of community wherever we find ourselves. I also understand that many who are Jewish, but whom move through circles and communities that are mostly not, experience a sense of isolation. Such gatherings give these Jews an opportunity to connect with others and feel a little less lonely. But Hazon's vision still needs to operate in the larger world, and that world is increasingly dirtier and hotter and under daily attack from the impacts our choices make.

Along with sustainable food, I'd like to see Hazon talk about sustainable travel, sustainable family planning, sustainable transport of food from producers to markets to consumers. Ultimately this will require a larger emphasis on sustainable communities that focus on the truly local connections that we can and must make with each other. Perhaps this can be done in part by making these globe-trotting events happen less often, and by taking the time to examine more deeply the true consequences of global travel. I still maintain that it's becoming a luxury our planet can no longer afford to indulge in so often, and I would welcome a deeper exploration of this theme by the folks at Hazon.