Imitation of E.B. White Value

Imitation of E.B. White

Value

Just a few days ago, I was cleaning out my refrigerator to make room for a gigantic sheet cake when I felt around in my vegetable drawer to see what I could procure for lunch that was more appealing than the plate of previously grilled hot dogs wrapped in foil on the first shelf. After pushing away several ears of corn that I considered buttering and salting and throwing in the broiler for a snack, I was surprised to find that the green peppers and cucumbers I had bought firm and dark and fresh just three days previous were covered with splotches of mold and sinking in on themselves. It seems the shelf life for a vegetable, even enclosed in a refrigerator that boasts numbing temperatures, is not longer than a millennial American's ability to put off eating vegetables. And the vegetables having gone bad, I have but three options in order to quash my mounting hunger. The first is to zap the hot dogs in the microwave and savor a lunch of warmed-over meats that were not, shall we say delectable, upon their first preview. The second is to cook up a feast consisting of what is still edible in my refrigerator or freezer -- fish fillets, chicken breast, tofu, skim milk, seasoning, cans of vegetables, milk. The third, and the most appetizing is to make it a lunch out -- only about the third or the fourth I've had this week, and it is the middle of the week.

Ever since I've been doing well for myself -- and doing well for a writer is actually having money in the bank account instead of simply visualizing the money that will come in with this next article or book or poem or short piece that the writer has yet to pen -- I find it increasingly difficult to drive down the central streets without stopping to pick something up for dinner. After perusing a bank statement, which contained the extent of my fast fooding, I made it a plan to stop driving down central streets in order to save my money -- and perhaps more preciously my health -- by not eating at home. However, I soon found that I would go out of my way to indulge in the temptation that was sure to ruin me in terms of finances and pants sizes. And judging by the lines of cars that wrap around the local fast food joints of nearly ever town I have visited, it seems that mine is no unique struggle. Seeing those cars twisted tight like vines around once-white brick buildings the exteriors of which have even been darkened by the grease within made me think for just a moment of the mortality of man and womankind. It is a fundamental fact of life that we are destined to day -- each one of us. The spiritual and religious among us are able to soften this blow by the promise of an afterlife -- a heaven, a reincarnation, a second chance. I've seen in children and teenagers, even in spiritual adults, the idea of the second coming as something of a second option, an incident that will allow a lucky few to escape death. Because of our eventual and inescapable mortality, however, it seems that the pervasive attitude among many is complacence. It is the singular individual who is able to admit and accept that he or she will die; yet the reality of this fact has become lodged on our minds so deeply that we unconsciously make decisions with the idea that they do not extraordinarily alter the course of things. Should we die by old age or too many burritos the end results is still the same -- we die -- and perhaps at least a life enjoying one's self and one's burritos will yield some pleasure before that eventuality. This all made me consider what humanity would be like if old age were cured, but mortality was still in existence -- what if we were not fated to die by biological causes at the end of life but could only die if we met with some mishap -- disease, murder, accident, burritos. How would we live? Would anyone stand up for what they believed in? Would we live in glass bubbles afraid to leave our homes? And this realization made me consider that perhaps God, in punishing Adam by making us all face death, was exhibiting his profound wisdom, and perhaps we, in begging that we might have life rather than death, know not what we are asking. Indeed, perhaps life is like the sweet Halloween candy that when enjoyed on Halloween night can give a thrill of ecstasy, but when gorged can yield a 24 hours agony of a stomach ache.

But even if the drive-through made me have these profound, philosophical musings, the bottom line is that there was $4 in wasted vegetables in the bottom of my fridge and another $4 coming out of my bank account for the fast food meal that was about to cause me anguish in nearly every way. It is surprising that, when introspective, something as small as few dollar menu indulgences can cause a person to consider everything from his or her health to the axiological questions. However, considering it all comes down to value -- the value of my health and financial state -- I concluded that planting a garden would be a better investment of all my resources. A garden with fresh vegetables will allow them to be plucked at just the moment when they are prime, ensuring that they do not go bad with mold in the bottom of my refrigerator. An aerobic activity, planting a garden is also the perfect way to be sure that one stays in shape through cardio work. These benefits seem to make the value of gardening higher than the value of eating fast food or even the value of shopping in the supermarket.

Beginning my garden started with painstaking effort, cleaning the ground and tilling the soil, which was an activity so difficult that it caused sweat to come to my brow. Had I been doing this work for someone else -- a neighbor or a friend who was entitled to a familiarity discount -- I would still have only charged about $5 an hour for my manual labor, as it was just that manual labor. Because this process took about three hours to complete, the initial manual labor investment into my garden can be quantified at about $15. Next came the monetary investment in seeds, at $1 per pack, I bought one pack of (and planted) the following: cucumbers, squash, pumpkins, beets, potatoes, beans, peas, peppers, tomatoes, carrots, and corn. This is another $11 investment into the garden. Planting the seeds was another 2 hours of labor, or a $10 investment. Of course, after the initial planning, it was necessary to maintain the garden through weeding, watering, fertilizing, setting traps for animals, and generally caring for the garden. All of this labor took me about three hours a week since April -- meaning a total of 12 hours, or $60. Finally, with this additional labor has come additional needs for the garden, in terms of weed killer, hoses, bug killer, fertilizer, tomato cages, string for the peas, etc. -- all off which cost about $200. My garden itemized as such, its total monetary value is $296. Thus, for my garden to be at least somewhat profitable, it's monetary value must be at least over $300 -- getting me my money back and another $4 to spend on either store-bought vegetables or fast food. However, to date, the garden has produced only one summer squash and two cucumbers. At going supermarket rates, this means my garden is worth, at most $4 -- $1 for each cucumber and $2 for the squash. This being vegetable season, however, the value is likely to be $.50 for each cucumber and $1 for the squash -- a total value of $2.

Does this mean my garden was not valuable? In the monetary sense, this question cannot be answered with anything but a resounding "yes," but it seems that value is measured in much more than just money. In fact, money is based on the concept of value, not vice versa. Native American tribes first invented the use of money through the trading of shiny stones that were valuable because they were beautiful. Perhaps the garden was not profitable. Perhaps it was not a way to make a living. Perhaps it did not even render enough vegetables for a hardy meal. However, it is true that my garden had other valuables -- the value of aerobic exercise and the enjoyment of planting, the value of breaking an old, destructive habit, eating fast food, with a new, gardening, the value of the philosophical thoughts that allowed me to consider my own position in humanity during the process, and the value of spending quiet time to myself in solitude as I oversaw the growing produce. Thus, the garden may have produced only $2 but it was certainly valuable.