More From Michael Ableman

(Editor's Note: Back from vacation, read and wrote, couldn't post.)

I fought the demise of that land, feeling feeble standing in the city council chambers with a few other locals facing off against the highly paid lawyers for the developers. The story is always the same. Land is a mere commodity to be bought and sold, something to build on, pave over, mine, or drill. We protested the sacrifice of the richest topsoil on the entire west coast. We cited the agricultural history of this valley, our perfect Mediterranean growing climate, the loss of farmland everywhere, and the importance of small farms and local food for our children. Our voices were drowned out by housing statistics, traffic studies, and promises for parks and tennis courts, all supported by sophisticated maps and graphs.
The local newspaper acted as oracle, putting forth headlines on yet-to-be-approved projects as if they were a sure thing. “Progress Hangs Concrete Shroud on Goleta Farm,” the paper solemnly confirmed. The neighbor who sold the land was quoted, predicting, “farming is a dying profession.” I had to wonder where his food came from.