When I first moved from Columbus to S.E. Ohio I was entranced by the feel of wilderness encroaching the city limits. I moved into a solar home, newly built into the side of a hill, off a backwoods area dirt road north of Pomeroy. I soon learned that half-hour drives to work in a metro area differed greatly from a half-hour drives to work in rural Ohio. Logging trucks, escaped cattle, roaming wild pigs, and turkey vultures scavenging road kill delayed the trip considerably; snow and ice even more.
I love Ohio and its winter storms, snow piling in drifts against the door, the clean sunny days which often follow snowstorms. The winter evening I could not drive my car up the gravel driveway to my home and slid from one ditch to another, barely staying on track nearly changed my mind. Realizing the incline was simply too steep for my TC3, I decided to use my neighbors’ driveway which had a more gentle upward slope. Once I reached the end of their drive, I could try the tractor track which connected our two properties through the woods. It was narrow but passable. It was the track we used to walk the two mile trek between our houses for neighborly visits.
The track was icy but flat; and, the four inches of snow atop the ice allowed for better traction. All went well until my tires became stuck when the ice broke under the car’s weight. Revving into reverse then forward only sank the tires deeper into the mud. I opened the door, stepped out and broke through more ice into a six inch deep mud puddle filled with icy water. My only choice was to hike the next mile home through ice water and mud, never knowing when the snow underfoot would give way. By the time I got home I was a sodden ice cube of muddy woman. The tears from my laughter over such a ridiculous effort had frozen on my cheeks. I smiled all through the hot shower and hot cocoa afterwards, tucked up under a warm blanket before the calming fire in my Jotul wood stove.
Eventually, I called for help. A tractor would come the next afternoon to pull out my car. I had time to reconsider my love of Ohio winters, since I could not get to work the next day. I decided I still loved them as I watched the snow continue to drift and blow. It was magical. Snow covered every muddy hole, every piece of thin ice, every mistake of human nature, every stupid idea and silly effort to control the natural world. Snow gives us a chance to reconnoiter our personal terrain of mind and soul. It strengthens our will and gladdens our hearts.
I remembered my solo midnight skate on a frozen farm pond near an abandoned homestead down the lane across from my home under a full moon; the feeling of gliding through life with grace and enchantment stirring my senses, a sense of overwhelming peace and safety. I remembered the late night I walked through the woods after a dinner party at my neighbors’ home, a flashlight on high beam held tightfisted until I realized the moon was full and the flashlight was not needed. It was only when I turned it off that the beauty of the night was fully revealed and my hand relaxed. Another walk home through the woods on a cold winter’s night was a walk though a crystal wonderland,every branch and twig of the trees and bushes, and each broken leaf of the ground-cover bathed in frozen ice. The moon broke the ice into rainbows of color and shimmered a stream of beauty with each step I took. A journey which normally took half an hour took two hours as I slowly made my way through a magical kingdom of crystal light. I felt blessed by the greater power of the universe.
Such memories of Ohio’s snow and ice intrude as I make my way down icy streets to the grocery store, inching my way over salt-covered parking lots, picking myself up after my feet slide out from under me on black ice. I still love every minute of winter, still laugh when I fall, still smile when I slow the car to avoid a slide, still sigh when I catch snowflakes on my tongue and still revel in my arrival home to a warm apartment.
My Pomeroy neighbors, Connecticut born and bred, once told me that S.E. Ohio was poor because early settlers who decided to remain in the hills to farm rather than brave the rivers and trails to rich farmland farther west were “lazy, weak and ignorant”,implying their poverty was well-deserved. Since most farming at the earlier time was horse-driven, the hills posed no obstacle to success. It was neither unwise, nor cowardly to make the decision to stay among the beautiful and fertile hills where nature’s magic so easily revealed itself. It was not a lack of courage which held them, but a faith in themselves which did so. It is easy to see now,looking back, that mechanization would destroy their ability to compete using horses because tractors and combines cannot handle steep hillsides; but, less so that corporate farming would supplant the small farmer. It is interesting that small farmers in S.E. Ohio are supplying much of the organic plants, produce and dairy we see in our groceries today. Snowville Creamery is a particularly apt example, and well-named.
We Ohioans love Ohio for many reasons, not the least of which is our cold, icy and snowy winters. We appreciate how our snow season slows life so that we may dream and remember. There are many ways to think about Ohio, about Ohioans, about winter. I happen to believe settlers who chose to remain in Ohio made the right choice, the smart choice, the memorable and magical choice. If too many Ohioans live in poverty it is not from lack of imagination, lack of willingness to work hard, nor lack of courage. It is not a winter of the soul of those in poverty which we should question; but rather, the winter of the soul’s imagination of those who decide who will be poor while hoarding their own riches, which we should question.
annarino writes 
There is No War on Women,by Louise Annarino,1-25-2014
There is No War on Women,By Louise Annarino
There is no war on women. What we are watching play out is an age-old phenomenon of men who fear women’s sexual expression. Whether it is the Taliban, fundamentalist Muslims-Jews-Christians,or Mike Huckabee, the chastisement and need to control women springs from men’s fear of loss of their own control. I refuse to allow their fear to become my burden. I suggest they learn to handle it all, as I must handle my own fears. Their fear, their loss of control, is not my problem; but, they insist on making it so. I don’t call that a war. I call it fear mongering.
We use the word war too loosely. We enjoy hyperbole because it grabs our attention,holds our imagination, and allows us to believe we are heroes(another word used too loosely)fighting some grand battle. Anyone who has ever experienced war is insulted by this cavalier use of the word. Anyone who have ever acted heroically is appalled by its frequent use in today’s lexicon. As William Tecumseh Sherman who marched on Atlanta destroying all in his wake said in his address to the Michigan Military Academy in June 19, 1879, “You don’t know the horrible aspects of war. I’ve been through two wars and I know. I’ve seen cities and homes in ashes. I’ve seen thousands of men lying on the ground, their dead faces looking up at the skies. I tell you, war is Hell!” (Battle Creek Enquirer and News,Nov.18,1933). I cannot use the word “war” to describe anything but war. Fear is not war; and, unless we name what is happening correctly, we cannot address the problem we face correctly.
This fear of male loss of control when faced with female sexual expression has biological roots. http://www.webmd.com/balance/features/how-male-female-brains-differ Men’s brains are structured with less ability to maintain rational thought while in the throes of emotion. Of course they fear women whose brains allow them to cry,laugh,orgasm and think at the same time. Whom should we blame for this? The Hebrews tell a story of the first man and woman, Adam and Eve, in the Garden of Eden. Most of us have at least heard that story a time or two. There are two elements to that story: obedience to the male deity transferred to obedience to the first male, Adam. Who was to be obedient to these male prototypes? The woman. What do fig leaves have to do with the story? They are used to cover up human sexual expression, and thus control sexual expression which becomes sinful when the woman does not obey the man. That is what is going on today!
The Hebrews were not the first to tell such a story. Earlier cultures and religious traditions acknowledged the power of female sexuality; some accepted it and used it as an avenue to spiritual awakening a la the Vestal Virgins. Others fearfully suppressed it, a la female genital mutilation. We see vestiges of these practices today throughout our world. It is not only Mike Huckabee and Republican men who fear women. Democrats,Libertarians,Independents and a host of other men do, too. The men who do not fear women are able to trust and appreciate women, able to understand the biology of male/female differences without feeling inferior, and able to see diversity as an enriching experience,not one to be feared. There is that word “diversity” which too many of us fear. Such men exist within all political parties and religions.
Although I do not see such fear of women as merely a Republican issue, one must acknowledge that the Republican Party platforms have opposed Affirmative Action,our ONE effort to practice diversity; while the Democratic Party platform has embraced diversity.The Republican Party platform opposes women’s right to birth control and abortion,to freely manage her health needs to freely express her body’s sexuality; while the Democratic Party has embraced a woman’s right to choose how she uses her body sexually and how to protect her health. We cannot ignore that these two party positions are different, even though men are the same biological creatures, dealing with the same fears in both parties.
As a woman,I am not satisfied with the behavior of men in either party. It is not enough to add women to the mix, when the men make all the final decisions, and too often ignore and disparage our female voices. When women’s only strength comes from a separate women’s caucus, whose leaders are the strongest and wisest and most experienced political activists I know, rather than being hired into positions of political power we know we still have a long way to go. We may have “come a long way baby”,finally being allowed to participate in the race; but, the race officials-funders-judges are still men who too often control our political expression. The words men use to describe their view of women is not the problem. Their fear of women’s full and free use of her power is the problem. Huckabee apologists are busy trying to reframe how to control women as if male manners need fixed. Instead, they should focus on facing their own fears and finding their courage in the face of female power and sexuality.
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