In which Joni Ernst makes me so mad I could spit

I got an email from Joni Ernst today. Normally I look at them, roll my eyes, and discard. But this one touched on a topic near and dear to my heart: the waters of the United States.

Here, in part, is the message. 

Home | Newsroom | Helping Iowans | Contact Don’t Mess with the New WOTUS Rule When the Obama-Biden administration attempted to regulate nearly 97% of the land in Iowa with their Waters of the United States (WOTUS) rule, I fought back and stood up for the livelihoods of hardworking Americans. We won that fight, and a new, more flexible WOTUS rule was put in place.  Now, the Biden Administration is working at a rapid pace to undo this work. Everyone should agree that clean water should be a national priority. But I can’t stand by and allow for another Washington power grab that will make it harder for Iowans to farm, ranch, and build.  As the daughter of a farmer, and an unwavering advocate for Iowa’s agriculture community, I will never stop fighting to defend the livelihoods of those who are feeding and fueling our world.

Ooooh this just made me so mad! So I wrote a letter. I copied it into this blog so that I could share it with everyone. Feel free to respond to Ernst's email or call or email her yourself if you feel similarly infuriated.

Dear Senator Ernst:

I'm glad you are supporting farmers in Iowa. Someone needs to. The nature of farming has changed so much over the past 50 years that someone needs to remember what farmers truly need. 

But FARMERS have also changed a lot in the last 50 years. First of all, there are way fewer farmers than there used to be 50 years ago. Iowans are mostly not farmers. There are lots of acres in production, but they are worked by fewer and fewer people.  

More and more, "farmers" run giant industrial agricultural sites, producing hundreds of acres of the same crop, or raising thousands of animals for slaughter in tightly-confined spaces. They do this right up to the edges of fields and along waterways, draining wetlands, covering soil with fertilizer, and emptying waste into the WOTUS. And those Waters of the United States are the same waters that nurture our flora and fauna--and provide us all with water to drink and use.

It's important that farmers are able to produce food for our nation. But it's also important to make sure that as they do so, they don't irreparably harm the land they farm. That's what the Clean Water regulations aim to protect. 

I am not a native Iowan, like you are. I grew up in Cleveland Ohio. Yes, the city where the river caught on fire back in the late 60s and early 70s when I was a girl. The Cuyahoga River was so filled with pollutants from the manufacturing industry (Northeastern Ohio's "farming") that it caught on fire, and not just once. It was stories about those fires that sparked discussion and passage of important clean water regulations. 

Yes, those regulations came from Washington. But they were not a "power grab." (And by the way, "Washington" is us! "Washington" is you, and the people who elected you!) They are a response to poisoned, dirty, and sometimes flaming waters, the side-effects of industry, including the farming industry. Those regulations provide farmers and manufacturers with guidelines about how to expand, to create, to grow--without damaging this planet that we all need to live on.

I am very disappointed in you for upholding Trump's attempt to pull back these important regulations. It would be much more useful if you would use your ability to speak to the people of Iowa to explain the ways we can get our waters off of the impaired waters lists--by following the regulations of the WOTUS bills.

Respectfully,

your constituent,

Jane Nesmith

Bodies and embodiment in our Capitol

During the spring of 2018, we lived in the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Washington DC, on 5th Street, NE. Every day, as I walked to and from places, I got to see this beautiful sight: the dome of the nation's capitol building. 

You can see the Capitol building from most places in DC--it's on a hill, and the other buildings in the immediate area are smaller. It stands out.

I remember one of the first times I glimpsed it in January 2018--maybe on the exact day that I took this photo--I felt comforted by how big it was, how stately and classical and sturdy it looked, how it gleamed in the sun, and could be seen from everywhere. It can withstand anything, I remember thinking. Even Trump. 

All that spring, I came to love having the presence of the Capitol in my life--not just the glimpses of its shining white dome as I went about my daily business, and its beautiful grounds, where Bruce and I frequently went for walks. I also loved the knowledge that in its marble halls, the work of government was continuing--including resistance to the awful policies that were being made that spring.

And then just this week, as I sat with Bruce in our home in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, watching what we thought would be the ceremonial acceptance of the Electoral College's votes making Joe Biden and Kamala Harris our next president and vice president, I saw the Capitol--my Capitol--overrun by angry and violent mobs incited to insurrection by President Trump. They waved Trump and Confederate flags, broke windows and doors, beat up Capitol Hill police, and shouted angry and profane chants. They defaced the building. They almost reached the chamber where senators had been debating.

How can I describe the feelings that washed over me at that time? Horror, disgust, anger, fear. At one point, I had to leave the room:  I just could not watch anymore. 

January 6 was, of course, Epiphany, the day when Christians celebrate the visit of "wise men from the East" to the baby Jesus, as described in Matthew 2:1-12. I'd posted some pictures on Facebook to celebrate: one of the magi and a camel from my mom's nativity set (that I now have set up on our mantelpiece) 

and one of 4-year-old Eli (in the back there) dressed up as one of the Three Kings from a preschool celebration of Three Kings Day. One of his teachers was from Mexico, where Epiphany is celebrated vigorously!

I like Epiphany--coming as it does after the busy and often overwhelming Christmas season when commercial voices and general noise and bustle threaten to overpower the radical message of Christmas: that despite jealous rulers, God--Love--has come down to earth in flesh, love embodied.

Epiphany and this past week have made me think about Incarnation and incarnation--the Christian concept, of course, but also just the idea of embodying ideas. How do people put flesh on their beliefs, and what does it look like when they embody those ideas?

The insurrection this week was certainly an embodiment of some ideas: of privilege, of enraged grievance, of the power of lies, desperation, tyranny, and racism. We can no longer ignore those ideas because there they were, embodied before us in chants for lynching, destruction of our capitol building, and murderous actions! It's enough to make me despair.

And yet. If I think back to our time in DC in 2018, I remember despairing about President Trump's nastiness. But I also remember realizing that DC isn't just about the president. He is not the only embodiment of our nation.

In visits that spring with people who worked for the U.S. Government, like Daniel, Aaron, Katie, Mary Ellen, Mary, and Larry, I heard about how the day-to-day work of civil servants in our capitol city embodied the strongest ideals of our country: democracy, freedom, community. They kept on working for our country despite the roadblocks thrown up by Trump and his allies, and despite Trump's inability to embody decency and democracy.

It's time for embodiments of hatred, division, privilege, and racism to go. We now see them for what they are. They have embodied their ideals, and we no longer want them anywhere near our Capitol or in our country. It's time for the incarnations of our country's highest ideals to be manifest in us.