Sometimes people ask me, "Adam, how in the world did you go from waiter to beekeeping plant scientist?
I thought an explanation was due.
Mark Twain once said, “Everybody talks about the weather, but
nobody does anything about it.” Over the years, I have found myself being an
armchair quarterback reading the Los
Angeles Times, and complaining about policy decisions that were just being
revealed but that had been maybe two years or more in the making. Like many
citizens, my reactions were often emotional, devoid of any appreciation for the
thoughtful analysis that had been so sagaciously applied to the problem at
hand. It dawned on me that there is much more to life than merely having a
point of view. With this in mind, it is my deep desire to be a useful,
contributing member of society that propels my interest in agriculture and
specifically plant science and its implications on California’s food supply.
My father was an analyst for the Rand Corporation in the 1950s,
who then spent 35 years at IBM. He instilled in me an appreciation for, and,
simultaneously, a healthy skepticism of statistics. I am reminded of comedian
Steven Wright’s quote, “Forty-three percent of all statistics are made up on
the spot,” but I digress. My father also taught me the power of big ideas, and
how logic coupled with passion could transform society. He also taught me the
computer programming concept of GIGO (Garbage In, Garbage Out). One gets out of
a problem what one puts into the problem. Logic and emotion are strange
bedfellows indeed! It’s a synthesis of classical and romantic paradigms similar
to those outlined by the protagonist in Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. As there is more than
one way to view a motorcycle (logic of engineering vs. emotion of riding one),
there is also more than one approach to agriculture.
To risk a cliché, I want to be part of the panacea, not the
problem. To live in the solution requires a commitment to optimism, as well as
a rejection of the cynical notion that “the world is going to hell in a hand
basket.” To live in the problem is easy. It’s right there staring at us. The solution
is more elusive. Developing solution-oriented policies requires a multitude of
approaches, but a few that come to mind are: a selfless commitment to the
concept that “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts,” a cool
determination to succeed where others have failed — especially in the face of
passionate, and often ill informed, resistance — as well as stamina and more
than a truckload of tolerance for those in disagreement, who fully deserve our
empathy.
A Masters in Plant Science, with an emphasis on sustainable environmental practices in regards to honeybee health, will give me a solid foundation on which to build a house —
a mansion, really — that has many doors, all of which lead to an exciting,
solution-oriented future. By working with faculty and other aspiring farmers, I
will gain a deep understanding of the food production techniques that help
shape our society and how those ideas come to fruition and are implemented,
hopefully for the common good. As a single father I strive to teach my two
young children that love, patience, and tolerance are the lifeblood of personal
happiness. Love of learning, patience in the face of demands for immediate
change, and tolerance for divergent opinions, form a trinity that I hope to
utilize on a daily basis as a professional farmer.
On a personal level, my children are growing up fast, and when
they graduate from high school, I hope to relocate to Northern California where I have
family. Being a professional farmer would be invaluable in my quest to
positively affect California, and to help solve the environmental, economic,
and societal challenges that have driven so many people away from farming in
recent years.
Although the above-mentioned challenges of the politics of
agriculture are pressing, my mind keeps returning to the one thing we cannot
survive without: water and the food it grows.
Water dominates my thoughts. I guess I have “wet brain.” Ever since I
was a kid, I have been fascinated by how California moves water around. Dams
and reservoirs, the California Aqueduct, not to mention the rivers that feed
them, totally enthrall me. Little did I know, at the time, how politically
charged the issue was to California. I was less interested in the actual
engineering — fascinating as it is — than in the massively important role it
played in our prosperity. For instance,
the 1982 battle over the peripheral canal revealed the conflict between
Northern California and Southern California. In fact my children’s mother is
from Orange County and we used to argue over this issue, which shows how subtly
our beliefs have been formed by our geographical references.
Many great books address this geographical conundrum. Cadillac
Desert by Marc Reisner shows the precariousness of our very existence. Kevin Starr’s Material Dreams shows the cunning steps taken by Southern
Californians like William Mulholland to secure water, as there was no future
without it. More recently, California Public Policy Institute researcher Ellen
Hanak has written many thoughtful articles on the subject of the health of the
Delta. In fact, the concept of the delta serves as a fitting metaphor for the
challenges facing California’s water future. There are many tributaries, and it
is more than easy to get lost, for water policy addresses so many important
issues: sustainability (agriculture, aquaculture, fisheries), environmental
restoration of native plants and animals, safe drinking water, and preservation
of farmland from poorly planned suburban sprawl.
And of course without water, there is no food. Michael Pollan’s Food as a National Security Issue reveals the importance of having
a food supply that originates within a few hundred miles of the markets. My
years of experience in fine dining in Los Angeles as a waiter at Wolfgang
Puck’s Spago exposed me to the vibrant world of organic farming and
viticulture. The romance of the farmer’s market and the incredible wines we
make in California reveal a legitimate and, dare I say, almost irrefutable
truth. There is profit to be made in the preservation of farmland. This idea
alone could be used to promote a reverse migration from urban to rural.
California Farmlink, of which I am a member, has been addressing this challenge
for over 10 years now, as it seeks to link retiring farmers who don’t want to
sell to developers and young “beginner” farmers who seek a better quality of
life.
As Rivers of Empire
author Donald Worster puts it, “The social consequences that follow from the
modern commitment to instrumental reason and the disenchantment of nature have
been antidemocratic and antihuman.” It
is precisely this threat and my desire to remedy this injustice that propels
me. I believe the judicious application
of sustainable farming practices serve as the foundation on which to build a
better future, and I wish to be part of that indispensable team that helps
build and improve the incredible home that we call California. A Masters in Plant Science would assure that
I have the tools to make a difference.
There were beautifully laid out pastures, rolling orchards,Scottish highland cattle and exotic sheep. There was a pond that had been converted into a classic California riparian xeri-scape.