In January 2010, my mother was diagnosed with a stage 4 Glioblastoma maliforme, more commonly known as a malignant brain tumor. To date my mother has several months of cancer-free brain scans. As the one-year anniversary passes of my mother’s diagnosis, I can’t help but spend a little time reflecting on my so-called “cancer experience.” The year passed by in tiny increments of MRI scans and positive results, radiation treatments, chemotherapy, and drug trials. Broadly sweeping over that mix is the whirlwind of information and change that permeated every aspect of our family life. See, my mother assumed the role of warrior in this often-called “battle against cancer.” We took the traditional route of emergency brain surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation, but my mother took her steps to recovery a bit further. She didn’t just want to chase cancer down the street, she wanted to catch up to it, to knock it down, and to triumphantly laugh as she stomped it to an unrecognizable bloody pulp. Cancer became enemy number one in our household. We fortified the castle with towers of books and prepared for battle with training exercises in intensive reading. Medical studies, contemporary trials, and general research all turned up the same piece of advice. The way to beat cancer, it seemed, was to tackle it from within. I don’t mean mentally, although mental fortification definitely has its place, but rather nutritionally. We learned the value of whole food, of organic whole food, and the power that it has in strengthening a body.
            I’ve carried the knowledge of my experience with me in my traveling months on TBB. Since studying sustainable agriculture in India, I’ve added two more key words to my general knowledge of food consumption: local and seasonal. Selecting and eating food with these three qualities in mind (organic, local, and seasonal) can provide a blueprint for navigating your way through the American food system. Additionally, eating locally produced, seasonal, organic foods could be the secret to regaining the health and wellness of our country.
            Unraveling the complex fabric of the American food system is a rather daunting task that I could never undertake in one blog post. From our pesticide ridden produce to genetically modified crops, to corn and soybean based processed foods and CAFOs (Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations), the entire industrialization of agriculture has taken a rather simple task –eating – and turned it into a daily dilemma. So how do we begin to make sense of it all? For me, it all goes back to those three little words: organic, local, and seasonal. Growing organic foods eliminates the use of chemical pesticides and fertilizers, allowing for a healthier population and a healthier environment. There’s no risk of carcinogenic substances weaseling their way into your food and no toxic runoff to deal with either. Eating locally gets rid of the fuel and pollution costs involved in transporting your food over long distances. Buying local produce also provides an outlet for community interaction, strengthening relationships between growers and eaters, producers and consumers. This provides accountability on the part of the farmer, ensuring quality product and production methods. Finally, eating seasonally forces people to eat foods when they’re at the peak of their nutritional value. 
            I’m not naïve enough to expect change to happen overnight. Even when confronted with cancer in my immediate family and informed about healthy changes in my personal eating habits, I still pop back a few peanut M&Ms every now and then. Informing yourself is a start. Switching from conventional produce to organic or buying from CSAs (Community Supported Agriculture), co-ops, or farmer’s markets instead of grocery stores are two examples of simple but effective changes that you can make immediately. Ultimately, I think making change in the American agricultural system comes down to two things: educating the people about the current system and the alternatives to the industrial system, and voting with our dollars. Ignorance is the lynchpin holding together the current industrialized agricultural system. By educating our friends and neighbors, we empower our nation to create the change that we so desperately need. Similarly, if we choose to spend every one of our dollars on food that is healthy, whole, organic, local, and seasonal, the market will inevitably respond to the demand.

             We have lost touch with our food. I know I have. Or at least, I had, until I came on this trip. I’d become blind to where what I eat comes from. I knew that things labeled “organic” were considered better, but cost and convenience almost always won out over health, personal or environmental. Then I came on this trip and began learning about both sustainable and industrial methods of farming, and I realized how much what I ate mattered. Mattered to me, ethically and socially, to my health, to the environment, to people I had never met all over the world. I have since made a personal goal for myself when I go home to focus on local, sustainable, real food and to think about what I eat and where it comes from. However, if I am to focus on the impact my food has on the world, does that mean no more bananas, which do not naturally grow in the Mid-Atlantic region? To absolve my food sins, must I become a born-again vegan, forsaking all meat, dairy and eggs in the name of animal rights? Is it the end of my love affair with coffee and dark chocolate, both of which are shipped from more tropical climates? I hadn't really thought about the obvious fact that changing the way I eat might mean making sacrifices. I started to get nervous about going home: what was there to eat and how much would I have to give up to eat it?
            I have taken ‘fresh’ produce for granted in my life, living under the assumption that I can have any fruit or vegetable whenever I want it, regardless of the season. However, when I learned that food travels an average of 1,300 miles to reach the American consumer, with 87 calories of fuel used for every 1 calorie of food that is transported, my broccoli and strawberries suddenly oozed fossil fuels. Those same strawberries were also likely grown with vast amounts of chemical fertilizers and pesticides, which is bad not only for the earth but also for my health. Beyond that, unseasonal food never tastes as good as the real deal. I realize that it just doesn’t make sense for me to eat as much nonlocal produce out of season as I do. So if lessening my impact means forgoing tomatoes in the winter, that just means that fresh tomatoes in summer will taste all the more delicious. And there are seasonal vegetables almost all year round, which will be easy for me to find since I have a farmers market five minutes from my house (you might too--check out www.localharvest.org to find out!) Knowing that I'm supporting local farmers and knowing where my food comes from makes giving up pineapples from Mexico totally worth it.
            What about eating meat? I’ve been pondering the idea of vegetarianism for a while, always pledging to myself that I'd “start in college.” You’d think that after everything I've learned about CAFOs (Controlled Animal Feeding Operations), animal cruelty and the health and environmental impacts of meat, I would never even be able to look at a burger again, much less eat one. However, I have also learned that there are a lot of sustainable, humane ways to eat meat. So while I’ll be lessening my carnivorous ways I'm not giving it up entirely. I'll be getting my chicken and beef from a small local farm where the animals were raised and slaughtered humanely and weren't pumped full of corn, antibiotics and hormones. My knowledge about the meat industry means that I won't be eating meat that comes from CAFOs. Unless I know that the meat I'm eating is sustainable, I'll be getting the vegetarian option at restaurants and at college. And while this might be an impossibility to those not so vegetarian-inclined, I am more than willing to make this sacrifice.
            Finally, what to do about all those foods that have been processed beyond recognition and/or shipped from all the far corners of the earth? I will feel like a liar unless I confess that as I write this, I am eating gummy bears that were made in Turkey, sent to the US, and then shipped here to India by my friend in a care package. Not only that, 3 of the first 5 ingredients in said gummy bears comes from corn. What a hypocrite I am. So far, the only change I've made with regards to processed and imported foods is the newfound feeling of guilt I get when eating my Haribo Gold-Bears that I never had before. Ignorance was corn syrupy bliss. Since I am now forced to think about where my food comes from, I will likely cut down greatly on the amount of processed food I eat, opting for natural foods where I can pronounce all the ingredients. As for imported goods, I'll be conscious of where my food comes from and will try to pick the local option (I wonder if there is a gummy bear factory in Northern Virginia...). However, I've also come to value the barter system: we import luxury foods like coffee and chocolate that we can't get in America, while also exporting many goods that the coffee and cacao farmers can't get in their own countries. So I think it's fine to have a few luxuries, as long as you consider how said product was made (fair trade, organic, etc.) and choosing local when you can.
            I realize that when I return home in May, I'm going to have to start making a lot of different decisions about my food. Though I know that it isn’t realistic to give up all inorganic, nonlocal, processed foods, I do want to limit these things as much as I can. But am I sacrificing?  By changing my perspective about where my food comes from and trying to choose what's best for me and the earth and therefore often the best for my taste buds, I’m really gaining a lot more than I give up.  The alternative, turning a blind eye to the things I’ve learned and not changing the way I eat, would only hurt me in the end, poisoning my health and the earth.