Extended Definition
10:32 AM | Author: Jordan Barker
According to Princeton's WordNet, 'Organic' is defined as: “of or relating to foodstuff grown or raised without synthetic fertilizers or pesticides or hormones; being or relating to or derived from or having properties characteristic of living organisms; simple and healthful and close to nature; relating or belonging to the class of chemical compounds having a carbon basis; a fertilizer that is derived from animal or vegetable matter.” This definition does not suffice, in that it leaves out the emotional undertones that fuel this word in my own as well as in our collective country's experiences.

First, it is important to establish where this word can be used. For most Americans, it is used to describe a sector in his or her supermarket. This section of the supermarket contains hundreds of items all with labels like “certified organic” or “100% organic”. These goods are stated to contain no pesticides or additives that would not occur in nature itself. I've also seen the products have labels such as “free range” or “free harvest” when inside this part of the supermarket.

The key concept I believe is left out of this standard definition is the shift in connotation that this word has had over the past years, even in my own life. The meaning of “organic” has transformed from being a safe haven for health, encompassing value and all positive notions, into a word that holds, in my opinion, a depth of negative perceptions. Of course, not everyone holds either a positive or negative view on the subject. I believe that there is no set association with this word, and it can be and often is taken one of two ways.

The positive points of this word were developed out of the large surge of 'health foods' during the past five to ten years. This new food market started out as something that could finally turn America's obesity problem around, and could possibly cure numerous diseases. Stripping foods of their preservatives and other synthetic ingredients started off as a great idea, and all of these products were proud to share the “organic” label. This classification represented something that was pure and transparent and that stood out above the countless aspartame-enhanced sludge that crowds the grocery aisles. When a consumer bought a product with the organic tag, they were certain they were buying into not only a product, but an entire movement that would not only change the way Americans consume food, but the world as a whole.

This feeling resulted in intense pride from consumers, and they also truly believed that their health would be bettered because of the purchase. This new need for an organic product allowed the American industries to do what they do best- capitalize on the consumer need. I remember when I could walk down a Wal-Mart aisle and be surprised to see one or two organic items. Major grocery stores now exist that are completely dedicated to selling certified organic foods. The best example of this is the rapidly growing profit machine, Whole Foods, which is largely regarded as the Wal-Mart of organic produce.

What's the problem with companies taking advantage of a new need in the market? That's just it; they are taking full advantage of the market. I still cannot understand how a product that praises itself for having far less ingredients than it's polar competitors can cost so much more. I have been in a Whole Foods chain on more than one occasion, and the prices are far above what should be expected.

This is what gives the word “organic” a negative connotation to me. I see things that are marketed as certified organic and I immediately think back to the high costs I saw on the shelves at organic food stores. I feel as though I am being tricked or mislead into believing in something genuinely helpful that, in reality, is simply profit based. The organic fight for a healthier world has been surpassed by the fight to produce a large profit. Being betrayed by something I believed in forces me think negatively about the word.

However, I also understand that this word can be taken positively by many people. Plenty of consumers still feel pride and comfort when purchasing organic products, and some of those products are authentic and fairly priced. As these emotions resonate in this group of individuals, they are happy with their purchases and can ultimately justify the cost. The price may be worth the pride and joy and even worth the chance that they're being deceived. These attitudes can be attributed to the successful marketing campaigns of the companies and/or the judgment of the consumers. These are the people that fuel the marketplace that is still rapidly growing. I do not share their opinions, but I do understand them.

Like many words in the English language, organic can be taken several different ways. At the same time, I think it consistently stays true to its definition. The definition stands firm in that it is not misleading. It also does not leave any room for further interpretation as far as its literal meaning is concerned. The problem, as discussed earlier, is that the definition lacks a connotative stance. After sifting through layers of its connotative meaning, we have come to understand that there are two separate feelings about this word.

First, the feeling of comfort and pride is based around the thought that the consumer is buying into a better lifestyle. This allows the consumer to justify the price spikes due to a greater demand. Because the consumer believes so strongly in the pride and comfort in which he or she sought out the product to begin with, the consumer has the ability to only focus on the positive.
Second, there is the feeling of distrust and misguidance. This is the negative interpretation and it is founded upon the belief that the prices of the products are unfair and unreasonable. Another large characteristic of this belief is that the companies are deceiving their consumers. The people who share this belief feel as though they are being taken advantage of and that they have been lied to.

So whichever way you choose, know that there are going to be people who view it differently. But at least you know the reasons people choose to do so. Whether you drink up an aspartame saturated Diet Coke, or you enjoy some fully organic root beer, learn to appreciate the other side.

What is your feeling about the word 'Organic'?



A Tale of Two Regions
10:03 AM | Author: Jordan Barker
I am a product of a broken home. To most that statement alone would seem to have a negative connotation, but to me, it is nothing but positive. I lived in two separate houses for most of my adolescent life. I bounced back weekly to a new atmosphere and a new lifestyle. One week I would find myself in the suburb of the United States ninth most dangerous city, and the next I would be spending seven days in a town that only about 1,000 people have ever heard of.

I grew up for the most part in Hopedale, Ohio, which my friends and I know as “the 'Dale”. We all have a central base in our lives, something that gives each of us a small piece of comfort. When you close your eyes and you take yourself to that emotional place where you can feel no pain, that's the 'Dale. We have no stop lights, one police officer, no gas station, and what seemed like a thousand front porches filled with lemonade and rocking chairs. There's 984 residents in the 'Dale and we all know way more than each others name.

The layout of the village streets are irrelevant to anyone who has grown up there. We did not know 'East Street' or 'Virginia Street'. We knew 'Sean's Road' or 'Pig Alley'. The 'Dale to me still represents simplicity. Throughout the first decade of my life I had not a single worry, and every time I make a trip back down 'Sean's Road' I'm reminded of just how easy I had it. The town is so calm that the only disturbances were when a nearby town had a fire and our tri-state famous, volunteer fire department would roll out our one truck and come to the rescue.

The places I found the most absolute comfort in were the two basketball courts. I cannot count the number of days I spent every second of the daylight with a basketball in my hand running up and down the black top. One of the courts was located behind our school. The school was built as a college in the early 1800's, and the court was built probably around that time with hundreds of repairs since then. The cement had cracks and green blades of soon to be smashed grass curling up through them. The sun would come up and I'd fill up whatever bottles I could find with the only thing the basketball court lacked—water. I would then walk down through the backyards of my neighbors to one of my friend's house. We would take his ball, and dribble our way a quarter mile to the school. Until I was 12 this was my escape and this was what made everything so simple.

I remember very vividly the day that our small village somehow found the money to construct a park. Hopedale had about two acres that had always been an old coach pitch baseball field, but the city decided it was time to renovate. The small field was mauled down, and a basketball court and tennis court arose from the wreckage. This court was quickly assembled and took a few years before somebody decided to paint the court and make it look respectable. I have hundreds of sunburns from practicing my three-pointers on those crooked lines. Every summer day after football practice I would end up there. The blacktop would stain the bottom of my shoes and turn my ball black. My hands would ruin thousands of hand towels. I took pride in that park.

That was the 'Dale to me. It was small, simple, and above all comforting. It was everything that made me feel safe.

The polar opposite of Hopedale was Youngstown, Ohio, a town known for its crime rate and ridiculous pot holes. I lived 15 miles away from Youngstown in a town called Columbiana. This town had four fast food restaurants, two grocery stores, a movie rental store, and everything that Hopedale could never have. I did not have much of a social life in Columbiana aside from the people on my street because I did not go to school there. I also did not know much of the town, for the same reason. Eventually my brother got involved with a summer baseball team and all of his teammates would come over from time to time.

The one thing that was like home was my basketball court. I had half of a court in my backyard, with perfectly painted lines and a giant light so I'd never have to stop playing. When I couldn't sleep, I ended up outside. When I had too much homework, I ended up working on my free throws. This court was a more mature version of the ones back in Hopedale. I feel like I learned harder lessons there. I took a piece of the 'Dale's simplicity 60 miles away.

Outside of my 10 acre plot everything seemed much more complex. The roads were all marked, and some were one way streets. I still to this day do not have any emotional attachments to the town of Columbiana. It's just not enough like where I grew up.

My brother transferred schools last year, and every now and then I'll travel into Columbiana for a basketball game. I sit in the bleachers and everything seems very uninspired. It's not like back home. Back home we packed the gym every single night, the crowd was filled with what we called the “Kennel Krazies” who would paint “Harrison Central Huskies” across their chests for each home game. The gym embodied something special. Maybe it was the four years I spent doing suicides, or maybe it was just that the whole county was screaming at us for four quarters, 10 home games a season. Whatever it was, nothing compared to it.

Another thing that I truly believe should be considered part of my region is the highway. Every-other-week I would drive an hour to school each day, and then back again that night. I spent more time in my car some days than I did at home (not counting sleeping). My car became my region, and in a way, it became just another basketball court because it allowed me to feel everything that the black top or cement did. I had time to think for myself. Twenty-two, seven, and eleven were the names of the roads I would need. I could probably make the drive blindfolded. Whenever I would drive people up to my house in Columbiana they would complain at how boring the drive was, but the scenery was never an issue. I still notice things I had never seen before, but that is because I never needed to pay attention. The trips I would make weren't about entertainment, but fulfillment.

The reason this whole experience is positive is that I learned to appreciate where I came from. I could see the difference with my own eyes. I could experience it all myself. I enjoyed the change each week, because each place had something special for me. Hopedale had comfort and simplicity, while Columbiana had a change of pace and something that forced me to spend time with myself. I'm grateful for both places, and I'm even more grateful for the opportunity to spend a significant amount of time in each place. I'm sure everybody has very close ties to where (s)he grew up, but I don't think that person can fully appreciate exactly what they had until they branch out and live somewhere else. The beauty of my situation is that I could relive that appreciation every week.

How much do you miss living in your hometown?