Originally Posted by
professorscott
In a drive through the Thumb you see many things but not everything. The small towns run the gamut; some have figured out how to do well, while others wither on the vine.
There are still plenty of family farms, but long-standing government policies favor what we might call corporate agriculture. But many, many of our communities [[I'm a thumber) have weekly farmers' markets all summer where we can buy locally-grown produce, and my year's supply of meat comes from the annual St. Clair County 4-H auction, so I know exactly where my pork comes from: what pig, who raised her, and where. There are two active farmers and one retired farmer among the nine people on my Township's planning commission. We have tried, despite Michigan laws, to institute anti-sprawl policies [[with mixed success).
My chickens have the run of the place, and though the coyotes take some of them, the rest of them are giving me pretty-close-to-organic eggs much of the year. [[I can't be truly organic, since my neighbor who raises soy and corn uses pesticides, and I can't help but that some of it blows onto my land.)
Still, I can't help but remember the small business owners in and near Grindstone City a good fifteen years ago, telling me at a barber shop exactly why the area was going to Hell in a handbasket. "Yep," one of the elderly customers said in a weird nothern drawl, "things ain't been the same around here since they built the Wal Mart in Bad Axe."
So our beautiful thumb combines the traditional with the new, and has its ups and downs, its thriving communities and its struggling ones, its good and not-so-good schools. We manage without a four-year college or university anywhere in sight, and the farmers join the environmentalists in our up-and-coming Watershed Management Councils [[your Prof is a founding member of one such) to figure out exactly how to manage all the poop.
So like everywhere else on Earth, it kind of works and it kind of doesn't, and some do well and some do not. But we manage. Come visit! Tell 'em Professor Scott sent ya. Lowell, next time you come up this way, let me know and lunch is on me.