My brother owns a small ranch in southeast Idaho — deep in the heart of potato country — and chooses to stick to the commerce of cattle… an age-old business that has seen its fair share of ups and downs throughout history… most recently experiencing quite a down in Europe. I’ve always wondered why he chose cattle, surrounded by some of the richest potato soil in the world, to be his product of choice? Hell, why’d he choose to stay in Idaho in the first place? Typing away at my computer, listening to Club 80’s live radio, I imagine he wonders why I ever left the fertile fields of Idaho for the rage and uneasiness of high tech and high art. I can’t blame him… I’ve been there, though not directly in his shoes, and know exactly how beautiful it can be to feel so close to the earth in relation to what you do. To produce something tangible that is commonly bought and sold is quite attractive. I grew up surrounded by that mindset and credit it often for the few good qualities I’ve been able to maintain throughout the years. After a rough day of semiconductors, embedded systems and David Mamet, I too yearn for the brittle topsoil that covers so much potential. But for one reason or another, I’ve distanced myself from the production of the world’s resources, choosing instead to pay for convenience so I can lead my harried life. I often wonder… is the potato farmer and the cattle rancher really as far out of the loop as many of us would like to think? I’m not talking about their technology — or lack of technology… hell, even fisherman have GoFish. I’m talking about their place and our place in the bigger picture. This situation struck an interesting chord when I picked up the phone and chatted with my brother just two weeks back.

So close to California, yet so filled with it’s own sense of isolationism - built around the fact that most of the state is quite rural — Portland is centered as the center of high tech and supposed high thought. Portland residents all know that the majority of lawns go brown in the summer, save the homes in the west hills and city green spaces. Why? Portland sits in a rain forest, right? Well, yes… and no. Technically many scientists say that Portland is in a rain forest, yet so close to the dry, sloping fields of farmland. Portlanders just choose to look at brown lawns for a short while versus staring at high water bills. Not such a bad idea when you think of how easily grass can recover. Plus, it saves the water for other uses. Portland pulls water from the Bull Run reservoir, but the rest of state gets its water from wherever they can get it. It’s the rest of the state that could really use the water that most of Portland spares from its lawns. The rest of state, particularly the east, is made up of farmland and cattle — dairy and beef. The rest of the state produces a good deal of export for the food industry, yet the rest of state is often starving for water when the winters are mild and the summer’s extreme. Oregon isn’t alone… far from it. Farmers and ranchers nationwide feel the pinch when they rely on heavy winters to sustain their summer crops. In particular, when farmers can’t water their hay crops, the price of hay drives up; when hay prices skyrocket, smaller ranchers with few options and no resources go out of business. So is the circle of life.

OK, so what do we do for food and water? Turn to those around you. If you don’t have the land for cattle to graze on but you do have cash eating a hole in your pocket, you can lease it from fellow farmers and ranchers and hope there’s a canal nearby that you can draw water from. Or, you can take that money and use it to buy hay, hoping that the lack of water hasn’t ruined the crops and driven the prices up — to little water might also mean an early crop, which is great if you’re ready to buy. Or, you can grow hay on your own land to ensure the highest quality for your cattle and take full responsibility for providing the necessary water for it to grow. But wait… there’s a catch… the state received less than 60 percent of last winter’s water supply. It’s now May and the reservoirs are already down to 30 percent capacity. So what the hell are you going to do now? Ah, the canal in my field! I’ll pull water from that. Nope, no you won’t, Skippy. Why is that? Let me tell you about water rights, friend. You bought the property in 1990 and the water rights for the property date back to 1935. That means that rights to that canal water — meaning that water will flow to that canal — were secured on record in 1935. Seems good enough, eh? Nope. Your neighbor on the right is poised on an original homestead that gained water rights in 1890… the neighbor on the left inherited his/her water rights from the family and they date back to 1910. So what does this mean? It means that when the water starts drying up, they’re going to take it from you first… then the neighbor on the right, then the neighbor on the left, and finally from the guy three miles away whose property has been in the family since 1881. After that, unless you’ve got a natural spring somewhere on your property, you’re screwed and your hayfield can dry up and burn.

It’s 2001 and it costs about $1.19 for a 20 oz. Bottle of spring water. Good for those of us on the run to our meeting after a brisk run at the gym. Meanwhile, it’s 2001 in the dry fields of Idaho and no one has water. There’s enough to keep the cows from thirst, but nowhere near enough to water the crops. Yes, it’s the same time, yet we see entirely different problems. How will those of us in Metropolis feel this effect? We might not… initially. My brother can’t afford to buy or grow more hay and has to auction his cattle off as early as possible, getting a lower price because they don’t weigh as much. He takes that cash and tries to meet his operating expenses but falls short. The ranch is in debt and he goes bankrupt. There’s one less cattle rancher on the market, so there’s less cattle. Hay prices skyrocket and combined with the decreased inventory, beef prices surge ahead. You head to Jakes and find that 8oz. Sirloin just cost you $1.10 more. No big whoop… you just got promoted.

There’s a lot going on when you stop by Fred Meyer or head out to the local steakhouse — take a moment to ponder the reality of what happens in the open fields of America, and how it effects your purchase. Take a moment to understand why the rural conservatives bitch and moan so loudly when the urban populace makes laws that effect their business and lifestyle — a business and lifestyle that indirectly affects the urbanites as well. Think twice before honking your horn at that huge farm implement taking up both lanes in front of you. Understand and appreciate the local economy as well as the global economy. It’s more than mainframe servers and Amazon.com - it’s every potato, Coke and steak out there. Open up and say ECONOMY.