by Heineken » Sun 16 Mar 2008, 00:56:08
$this->bbcode_second_pass_quote('Phebagirl', 'G')ood day from Pheba, from the farm:
I posted a short review of Kunstler's novel on the forum titled;
"World Made By Hand". What a bunch of drivel.
I used to e-mail Kunstler about the farming situation here in the Midwest.
January of 07 our next door neighbor died. He was an amazing, sharing, caring farmer. He would do anything to help a neighbor, and was the kindest man. He was soft spoken, and listened when others talked. He was good to his wife, and kids. His grandkids lived next door, and spent hours at his farm. He had about 20 horses and mules, and he spent a good portion of his time teaching kids to ride. He raised cattle, and hunted coyotes. Just a good all round farmer.
He was putting in a very large pond. His dream was to spend his retirement (he was 72) fishing at the pond with grandkids.
He was on his tractor grading the pond dam, when the earth under the dam collapsed. His tractor rolled over and killed him instantly. His 7 and 9 year old granddaughter found him. His son had to use a crane to lift the tractor off his body.
I commented to Kunstler about the event in an e-mail. The day after the farmer's death I was driving by and saw about 20 pick-up trucks parked at their farm. The neighbors had all pitched in, and they were removing all traces of the accident. They finished the pond dam, put up fence, sowed seed, etc. My neighbor would have been pleased.
There was so much donated food that the neighbor's wife had to turn me down when I asked what I could bring to her.
When I related this story to Kunstler he responded with his usual sarcasm. He thought the story was weird.
Kunstler just doesn't get it. He can daydream all he wants about a post apocalyptic nirvana (World Made By Hand), but he doesn't have the first clue about the actual sociology of neighbors helping neighbors.
Actually, there was little the neighbors could do to help the farmer's widow. By removing the scenes of his tragic death, and finishing his dream pond, they were doing something. It is this desire to help one's neighbor that Kunstler just doesn't get.
He can dream about it, write about it, but the bottom line is that Kunstler is so filled with contempt for his neighbor that he doesn't have a clue what being a neighbor truly means.
Pheba.
In an ironic twist to this story, the small cemetery where my neighbor was buried is next door to their farm. You guessed it. it is exactly next to the new pond. They buried him right up at the fence. facing the pond.
Pheba, you have a great deal of credibility here, so I'm sure Kunstler's response was just as inappropriate as you say.
A sad story, well told. I'm struck particularly by the irony of the farmer's dream being the instrument of his death.
It might interest people to know that "Kunstler" means "artist" in German.
I once e-mailed Kunstler myself and offered him my editorial services, citing examples of errors in his writing. He turned me away fairly gently, in this particular case.
What comes through most in Kunstler's writing is anger. He suffers from a terminal rage induced by society's failure to see what he sees. The more blindness he perceives, the more blinding the light he directs onto society's face. (I can relate to his frustration.)
Threadbear: Good observations about the phenomenon of being "let down" by someone you've looked up to. I bet that happens to nearly all of us at some point.