vice president of the accokeek foundation anjela barnes, executive assistant at stop ecocide international margherita birri, george washington university professor, author, and philosopher barrett pitner, and board member of the potomac riverkeeper network brenda richardson all lend their voices and expertise to this podcast.

the music is titled “zion” by user salmonlikethefish from freemusicarchive.org. 

(in)vironmental justice is hosted by jing-ning hsu and adam esrig. alejandra puente also contributed to the production of the podcast.

written, produced, and edited by hannah loder.

welcome to my food justice. 

this project was also made in an effort to combat sinophobia, or the fear or dislike of chinese people, which has been escalating in the united states since the onset of covid-19. the culture that i grew up with is beautiful and i wanted to share not only its beauty, but the ways that my culture intersects with environmentalism as well. 

“sorry i kept you waiting!” said a slim man in a worn baseball cap, jeans, and a t-shirt, as i approached the gate. i was here to meet moses thompson, the director of the community school garden program (csgp) in tucson. his laid-back appearance and friendly demeanor was like a breath of fresh air. 

gardening + community + education = impact

the community school garden program, led by moses for the past two years, is run by the university of arizona’s school of geography. under his leadership and the guidance of the founding director sallie marston, it has become an internationally recognized program. its mission is to enable tucson teachers and the community to develop and sustain gardens at school and at home. focusing on the culture and politics of food, the program connects students to their communities and the world around them. it has trained more than 700 tucson unified school district k-12 educators and has produced over 8,500 hours of service. they estimate to have impacted over 600,000 students. 

moses is the heart of the program. his authenticity, humbleness, and kindness have cultivated a phenomenal csgp team, many of whom grew up in the communities they now serve. moses began his career as an elementary school counselor who integrated his love of nature into his counseling. he typically conducted sessions in an outdoor space at his school where the therapeutic qualities of nature made his students feel safe and at ease, allowing them to feel vulnerable and connect with him. 

what made moses — who had no previous gardening experience — take the leap from being an award-winning school counselor to running an equally awarded garden program?

“i knew close to zero about gardening before i started working with the csgp,” he said. the project’s founder sallie mentored him, and that expanded his idea of who he could be. her advice to him was, “what you want now might not be what you want in five years,” which opened his mind to the idea of leadership.

i asked him how he handles the mantle of leadership and he said, “it feels heavy at times and i doubt myself, but the garden has taught me that skill sets aren’t static and with support and persistence i can navigate challenges. and at the end of the day, my love for the work and my love for the people i work with tamps down the fears and anxiety.”

going for the mari-gold

walking around the garden beds, it was hard to miss the big bushes of marigolds that demanded attention. “we plant a lot of marigolds,” moses said, because the flowers prevent root pests, attract important pollinators, and deter caterpillars. these multitaskers are also beautiful.

reflecting on my time in the garden, i realized that the program is just like the marigolds. the program produces crops, addresses social injustice, and encourages connection with heritage. the garden program is a source of food security, community knowledge, and a safe place for students and teachers. it also has the magical beauty that green spaces provide. it is a multitasker — just like the marigolds. moses and the garden open doors to the most vulnerable among us and teach them to care for the earth and themselves.

“how did you build all this? what is moses thompson’s mission?” i asked.

“what gnarly questions,” he said. 

he leaned on his shovel and took a minute to think and then said, “i think when you get in a garden, something profound can happen. growing food and eating consciously can make you feel different physically, and make you feel different about yourself. there is an unmatched capacity for change in a garden and i want to harness that by making gardening accessible to as many people as possible.”

i couldn’t help but smile.

“that’s incredible. did you prepare all that in advance?”

“oh god no,” he said, with a humble and embarrassed chuckle.

a solution for a hungry nation

the community school garden program is not something that can only bloom in tucson. moses emphasized that this program is a framework, one whose frame can be copied, rebuilt, and placed in other food-insecure areas looking to reconnect with their cultural heritage. moses said the csgp’s methodology is “throwing gas on a grassroots fire.” if the program expanded, it would be seeded with the unique heritage of that new place. a foundational part of the program is that each garden is rooted in the community so that when it develops its fruits, they are useful and familiar to those local to that place.

what is abundantly clear about moses is that he cares deeply about our youngest generation. we talked about the climate crisis, how to fight it, and how to stay joyful doing it.

“having no agency and feeling hopeless can make you paralyzed,” he said. “here in the garden, you learn how to grow your own food, and sustain your own life, in harsh and demanding conditions. that gives you agency. it gives you self-confidence and self-worth. from a young age, you can see biodiversity and its benefits here, you can see ecosystem services.” 

moses’ philosophy seems to be working. many of his students have gardens at home, too. he believes that the physiological and community benefits of gardens will build resilience and fight climate change.

slideshow by halley hughes

moses also gave me one of the kindest gifts i’ve ever received: the csgp’s 2022 almanac. however, this is no normal farmer’s almanac. it is an anthology soaked in the heritage of the sonoran desert and community love. every page, every drawing, and every inclusion is so intentional in delivering cultural and ecological knowledge. moses and his team knew they didn’t want the almanac to be a top-down intellectual product from the university of arizona. he wanted kids to use the almanac, and to see their moms and other relatives in the pages. 

that beautiful almanac now sits on my coffee table so that my home’s visitors can soak up the beauty of sonoran heritage. what the csgp has accomplished can be accomplished anywhere. by connecting with their communities and food, the generation that will experience climate change more prevalently than any other will be the navigators who lead us toward a hopeful future. moses taught me that gardens are tools that can sow a generation of empowered children. 

warm weather begins in march and lasts until late october in south carolina — and our summers are not for the faint of heart. my hometown of columbia, the capital city, once had the slogan of “famously hot” and still boasts the famously hot new year event and famously hot pride festival every year.

as sweaty and miserable as it can be, we think of the heat as a point of pride. if you can last through a blistering south carolina summer — packed with the thick humidity of the coastal lowcountry, 100-plus-degrees days, and mosquitos that latch to your skin — you can survive anything. the heat is part of the southern experience, and it comes with the territory. 

the weather is the reason that my mother moved to south carolina from indiana, after visiting in december and seeing people wearing shorts. it’s the reason that people visit the tourist hotspots of charleston, hilton head, and myrtle beach year round, which brings in more than $20 billion to the state’s economy. the environment is reason why the state was founded on plantation agriculture and small farming and why the coastal port of charleston became an economic hub for business and slave trade in the early 1800s.

the weather and the environment are deeply intertwined in the culture of south carolina and they cannot be divorced. in many ways, the cultural landscape of south carolina mirrors the physical landscape.

but like elsewhere, south carolina is feeling the impact of climate change. the weather gets hotter, the water level gets higher, and the hurricanes get fiercer. and yet the state government lacks a comprehensive plan to combat climate change, leaving local officials to grapple with flooding, heat, erosion, and drought in their communities. the johns hopkins bloomberg school of public health and trust for america’s health found south carolina tied with louisiana, kentucky, and mississippi as the second most vulnerable state to climate change. of these four states, south carolina is the second least prepared to deal with negative health outcomes.

in 2015, south carolina faced a “thousand year flood” from record-breaking rainfall. the flood, exacerbated by outdated infrastructure and failing dams, hit columbia particularly hard, killing 19 people. in the six years since, four major hurricanes have pummeled the state, and “hurrications” away from school and work have become a new fall routine.

charleston—the coastal city that has topped travel + leisure’s “best cities in the u.s.” list for nine consecutive years—is one of the most vulnerable cities in the country to rising sea levels. the union of concerned scientists notes that charleston’s tidal flooding, or sunny day flooding, averaged six times a year in 1970 but by 2045 is projected to rise to 180 times per year. when my cousin started her freshman year at the college of charleston, she made sure to buy a new pair of rainboots so she could wade through the water that regularly inundated the downtown campus.

the warming, rising seas are killing wildlife and plant species, resulting in ghost forests where salt marshes once stood and fewer shrimp for trawlers off the coast.

and then there’s the heat. the hot, sticky south carolina summers seem to stretch longer and longer. while the heat has long been a point of pride, it is quickly becoming a source of discomfort and anxiety. extreme heat kills more than 700 americans each year; disproportionately people in low-income neighborhoods, of which there are many in the state. knowing that this is the future, i struggle to embrace the charm of the weather that i used to feel.

what happens when the “thousand year flood” comes every decade, or when the “unseasonably warm weather” becomes the new norm? 

we know that climate change will affect the physical and environmental conditions around us — although americans are still less concerned about the personal impact than people in other advanced economies — but we don’t think as much about how climate change will impact our culture. in south carolina, the weather and the landscape is the culture. it’s sweating at football games in the fall, kayaking the rivers, and smelling the salt air of the pluff mud marsh. the culture is cotton fields and their dark history, soon to go dry from heat and drought. the culture is the gullah/geechee communities in the sea islands, which are being swallowed by the ocean.

but culture, and the creativity associated with it, provides an opportunity for new solutions to climate change. and while there are practical solutions, there are also cultural and emotional adaptations that are necessary to confront the climate crisis. this means redefining historic preservation in charleston, where picturesque 150-year-old homes are being elevated to avoid the flooding that already comes more than 75 days a year. it means curbing our insatiable desire to build high-rises, beach houses, and businesses on top of salt marshes where they don’t belong. and it means listening to, learning from, and collaborating with communities that have ties to land that is being threatened. 

south carolinians have long defined their identity on the sunshine, beaches, mountains, rivers, farm fields, and heat of the state. if we care so deeply for that landscape, then we should care as deeply about the ways it’s being threatened, and how we work to find solutions.

we’re famously hot, but we’re only getting hotter. when will it be too much?

—

editor’s note: check back each day during cop26 for more pieces in planet forward’s climate hits home series.“

keeping in mind the racial, and socioeconomic impacts, i’m proposing that the market start by eliminating the use of plastic grocery bags. as a participant, an observer, and a researcher, i believe there are four different possible first steps that could be taken toward eliminating all plastic grocery bags from the market.

so, if you’re in syracuse, please join me in promoting this idea, and if you’re somewhere else please consider that you could push for the same change in your own community. 

—

around 60 million years ago, a large asteroid called chicxulub made impact with the earth along the coast of the yucatán peninsula of present-day mexico. the asteroid’s impact resulted in dissemination of geologically young, thin soil across the peninsula and formation of a massive underground system of freshwater cenotes, which are natural sinkholes exposing groundwater. over a thousand years ago, the maya built their main ceremonial city, chichén itzá, along the edge of chicxulub’s crater. the soil was thin, but freshwater was plentiful. to sustain chichén itzá’s large population, the maya cultivated crops through an agricultural method known as milpa.

milpa is a type of sustainable farming historically practiced by the maya in the yucatán and other parts of mesoamerica. the polyculture milpas are planted with numerous crops, such as beans, corn, peppers, and gourds, for local community consumption rather than supporting a single crop for economic value like modern monoculture commercial farms. milpa agriculture requires no agrochemicals, thus keeping groundwater clean. the ancient maya empire survived on milpa farming. some 60% of the population on the yucatán peninsula today are of maya descent, and numerous modern mayan communities practice milpa.

adolfo rodriguez, a professor at the autonomous university of chapingo, is a milpa farmer in the maya community of maxcanú. dressed in a traditional straw hat and white, long-sleeved guayabera, rodriguez proudly recounted the history of his farm. back in the 1800s, the farm was a large plantation growing henequen, an agave plant used to make twine and ropes for ships and other fiber-based products. most of the global supply of henequen, also known as yucatán sisal, came from the yucatán peninsula. demand for henequen eventually decreased due to the rise of synthetic fiber, thus the plantation converted to milpa farming.  

rodriguez walked past bright magenta pitaya, or dragonfruit, growing on small cactus-like trees between rows of short, spiky agave plants. in typical milpa formation, there were rows of different crops interspersed within rows of other crops, with ramón trees sprinkled throughout the landscape. ramón trees, whose use dates back to the beginning of the maya empire, are well adapted to the climate and distributed throughout the yucatán. rodriguez explained the strong link between the maya religion and milpa farming, which “has been the base of the culture of the maya, of the religion of the maya, of the (preservation) of the maya. (to work) in the forest, you need to ask for permission (of) the owners of the forest. you need to ask to the gods for the rain, and when the people harvest, they need to say thank you with the special rituals to the gods.”

modern maya face challenges to their milpa system. irregular weather patterns due to accelerated climate change have made predicting rainfall prior to the planting season increasingly difficult. seasonal changes to rain cycles affect crop choices and planting schedules. “the maya have different strategies to these changes,” rodriguez said. “they have different species, different seeds, for the different seasons.” however, this adapted methodology might not succeed in modern polyculture milpas. farmers determine when to plant one variety of corn based on the date of the first summer rain, and then plant other crops accordingly. delays in the initial planting due to late seasonal rains result in changes to the rest of the crops for that season.

more problematic for 21st century maya is generational loss of knowledge of milpa farming. “now the youngest people are not working in the milpa, (and) there are generational breaks in which the parents don’t want to know about the milpa,” rodriguez said. “the (grandchildren) want to know it but the parents don’t know how to manage the land, so all of this knowledge is (being lost) and the people nowadays cannot manage the land (the) way that the old people (did).” a new program teaches younger maya about milpa farming techniques and continues to pass down generational knowledge.

farmers are taking actions to make milpa farming more sustainable for the future. in traditional milpa farming, an area of forest is cleared, planted for two years, then allowed to lie fallow for eight years as secondary-growth vegetation before being replanted. by repeating this process continuously, land can be used for crops almost indefinitely. some maya farmers no longer clear new land and let their land recover for 10 to 15 years instead of eight to increase the fertility of the land for the next crop cycles. “i’m working with another 15 farmers and i am trying to figure out better ways to cultivate my crops, but (it is) very difficult because we are many farmers and not all of us want to conserve this jungle,” said don francisco puuc, a farmer and leader in his maya community of yaxunah. his goal is to adopt more organic methods and cut as little of the forest as he can.

modern milpa farmers plant domesticated varieties of native jungle species. the germplasm bank is a seed bank in the mexican state of mérida that stores massive collections of seeds and other viable plant samples, including historical collections of seeds of crops the maya have planted for generations. “if you can’t preserve the whole areas with the forest, you can preserve the seeds,” said dr. maria pulido-salas, co-director of the germplasm bank at the yucatecan scientific investigation center. the seed bank created a partnership between local farmers and the scientific team to give seeds of certain species to local farmers for planting to keep those species resilient and adapted to current climatic conditions in the yucatán. if seeds cannot be saved from harvests due to drought or other conditions, then the seed bank stock can be used for crop restoration.

milpa farming sustained the ancient maya for centuries. as modern maya adapt their ancestral farming practices to counter accelerating effects of climate change, they seek not only to preserve their traditional farms and crops, but to maintain their way of life and culture for generations to come.

many of the slaves were originally brought to the island by thomas spalding, who purchased the south end of sapelo in 1802. after the end of the civil war, the freed slaves stayed, purchasing land and establishing thriving settlements on various parts of the island, then eventually consolidating the communities to hog hammock. covering 427 acres, hog hammock is now home to the remaining descendants of the original slaves and is the heart of sapelo’s gullah geechee community.

the fields around hog hammock are being returned to their agricultural roots. the gullah geechee brought seeds of several african crops, such as red cow peas and okra, with them to the new world. the “geechee red pea,” which has its origins in sierra leone, is grown as a heritage crop for the hog hammock community, meaning the plants are original varieties that were grown by historic populations and not cultivated for large-scale agriculture. hog hammock residents grow these crops to sell and sustain the community and to motivate residents to invest in their own land. the sale of red pea harvests is key to increasing economic development for the island and its remaining residents, helping to preserve their lands and culture.

another heritage crop the community is trying to reestablish is purple ribbon sugar cane, which was native to java and brought to the west indies by dutch traders in the 1800s and then to the georgia coast. the sugar cane was grown on sapelo as a plantation crop and processed in a mill on the island. researchers are now helping the community replant purple ribbon sugar cane in fields in hog hammock, and the sugar cane is pressed for its purple syrup and bottled. both purple ribbon sugar cane syrup and sapelo island red peas are sold on the mainland and prized by restaurateurs for their unique flavors.

in 2017 during hurricane irma, which directly hit sapelo island, island flooding covered the majority of hog hammock and wiped out the sugar cane and other crops. changes in weather and climate such as increased frequency of tropical storms and hurricanes are increasingly affecting the island and its residents. hog hammock is at a lower elevation than other parts of the island, leaving the community more susceptible to flooding and causing enormous consequences for its burgeoning agricultural industry. with more frequent inundation of seawater, the soil and fields are becoming less yielding for farming.

sapelo island is low enough to become a massive floodplain when the high tide line exceeds the shell-banked and salt marsh edges of the island. with increasing frequency, the high tides on sapelo island significantly exceed typical high tide marks, breaching roadways, filling marshy fields, and causing flooding overall. the salt marshes can quickly become saturated with the seawater, overriding their potential to serve as flood buffers for the inner island. beyond agriculture, the inundation of saltwater into the water table and other potable water sources means residents must find new water sources.

with rising sea levels and increased flooding risks, the hog hammock community faces an uncertain future. displaying their generational resilience, residents and heritage crops continue to endure as the sapelo island gullah geechee community fights to preserve their historic lands, culture, and way of life.

before the sun begins the morning stretch over the mountain ridge that sprawls across central panama, a group of 20-somethings departs into the jungle. in search of a new place to swim, the young hikers cross a burbling stream that threatens to fill their boots with water. beyond the river and a steep incline, they skirt a pack of cattle struggling to keep their footing on the narrow trail. they nod to the farmer who looks bemused at their continual walks and they proceed. after an hour, the voyagers reach a swimming hole, just as someone back at their camp promised. they leap into the water and rinse the 80-degree heat from their skin as the sun begins to crest over the hills.

when the eco-town of kalu yala entered the panamanian landscape about 10 years ago, it brought an abundance of new life and innovation to the relatively undeveloped land surrounding the chagres national park. the small campus housed internship programs, new start-up businesses and open, roofed, rancho-style platforms for camping. innovative technology attracted lots of young americans and interns from other parts of the world hoping to make advances in the worldwide push for sustainability. but it also brought a phenomena that many panamanian locals had never seen before: hiking.

while residents of san miguel, the closest town to kalu yala, may not understand the hype of carrying heavy-duty hiking packs up a hill for seemingly no reason, interns and staff at kalu yala have adopted the western tradition as a part of their culture.

clay springer, the current director of the outdoor recreation department, first arrived in panama a few months ago and panamanians would watch him hiking up the steep kalu yala access road, and the final steep hill, fondly deemed “suicide hill.”

“oftentimes they’ll look at us and wonder what we’re doing out there,” springer said. “and i’ve been offered a ride by people, by panamanian farmers when i’m walking out in the countryside. i say, ‘no, i’m doing this intentionally, i want to walk…’ and they’re like, ‘gringo loco, no entiendo!’”

this example highlights what many kalu yalans consider a cultural divide between themselves and their neighbors. while many programs are working to engage more with the community so near their village, this often comes with challenges.

aside from language barriers, which make it tough for interns to interact with young neighbors, many of the canadians and americans find it difficult to relate to the many challenges panamanian students from san miguel face. angela jones, the director of education, said she sees a level of apathy toward education in the town but it’s often due to limited means that constrains access to schools.

“there’s no high school here,” jones said. “so the kids, once they graduate from primary school, then they have to go to la mesa, which is about 20, 30 minutes away to go to middle school or high school.”

many students decide against this daily commute and the costs of school. they stay at home or hope to find work elsewhere.

“i talked to a kid just the other day who was 13, i think,” jones said. “and he was just hanging out on the patio. i asked him ‘what do you do?’ and (he said) ‘i don’t go to school.’”  

jones said parents are generally in support of this because it means their children can seek employment at factories in nearby towns, and parents won’t have to pay for bus fares or notebooks. it saves them money, and many students have a desire to leave the valley.

hiking is another apparent divide and, of course, there’s a considerable gap even among americans who are interested in hiking. in 2013, the outdoor participation report found that 70 percent of americans participating in outdoor recreation were white. racial minorities represented only one in five visitors to the national parks, according to a 2011 poll. as in panama, these disparities can be linked to the wealth gap between white americans and minorities.

springer attributes the relative lack of interest in hiking among panamanians living in rural areas to a desire to escape from their current lifestyle, which requires a lot of walking and outdoor labor for everyday chores and errands.

“there is a cultural disconnect there,” springer said. “i think a lot of panamanians living in the interiors have worked really really hard to get to a point where they can leave the interior and go to the cities. so looking at hiking as a recreational activity is confusing to them.”

taylor gray, an outdoor recreation intern from winnipeg, in manitoba, canada, has spent her semester developing maps of surrounding hiking trails with other interns. she feels that most of the work they’ve done in the past has served residents of kalu yala but hopes to encourage more participation for neighbors in san miguel and beyond.

chloe chow, an intern from montreal, said even kalu yalans see hiking as a “luxury,” and thinks that many locals “don’t know about the trails we have here.”

springer thinks that hiking hasn’t been something that panamanians have thought about as an asset in the past. however, with the building of a new canal through nicaragua, which could take business away from the country’s main source of income at the panama canal, hiking might be an important place to turn. because the new canal would not be owned by panama, trade may migrate out of their country. people previously employed at the panama canal will need to look elsewhere to work, and springer said outdoor rec is a good next step.

“(there) is an initiative going on with a company called ‘caminando de panama,’ which means ‘walking panama,’” springer said. “(the) objective is to train locals to have a durable vested interest in conserving their land by turning them into wilderness guides so when they do that, it gives them a new source of income, it gives them a reason to protect their wilderness and instills a new passion for the outdoors in their local communities, which i think is incredible.”

kalu yala and groups such as the kuna yala tribe on the san blas islands have tapped into the growing demand of tourists to travel to panama, but panamanians haven’t taken this opportunity yet. gray said that by training locals to be guides, they will become more invested in the conservation of their land while benefiting from a steady income.

“i think it’s a great opportunity for them to make money, to turn that lifestyle toward hiking,” gray said. “i agree with the statement the more people love something, the more they want to protect it.”

of course, looking at missions like these aren’t always practical in the 10-week semesters that the kalu yala institute provides for its interns. for now, interns in the outdoor recreation program focus their efforts on members of their community and projects they feel they can accomplish. gray’s project comes from a desire to have her peers experience nature more deeply.

“we live here, we should experience the wilderness,” gray said. “so many people come here and are like, ‘yeah, i live in the jungle.’ but then never leave this little community and i think it’s super important to experience 100 percent of the area you’re in, so doing cultural activities, going hiking, doing overnight trips in the woods, cause then you can actually say you experienced the jungle and you lived in the jungle.”

the outdoor recreation program does a good job promoting trail maintenance and hiking within their community, but sometimes it feels a bit isolated even within itself. the interns plan activities with hopes of involving interns from other programs, but without interest it’s hard to hope for longevity.

right now, gray feels that kalu yala is at something of a standstill in terms of growing as a community and increasing its local involvement. while each program and the institute as a whole has goals of expanding into the local community, a lot of these aren’t entirely practical due to time, cultural and budgetary restraints.

“(kalu yala tells interns to) ‘get creative, do your own thing, if you’re passionate about it, do it,’ instead of saying ‘take something from kalu yala, make it better,’” gray said. “i think they should definitely emphasize that more. because i mean, it sounds bad, but there’s so many good ideas, but implemented in shitty ways in kalu yala that could just be implemented so much better.”

for instance, gray hopes her maps will serve as a guide for future hikers. but, to some extent, interns have to hope someone else will pick up on their project. one past intern once created a skee ball court, which has since fallen into disrepair.

for many, there’s a layer of tension between what kalu yala is today, and what it can or even should become in the future with growth. on a more macro level, gray worries about kalu yala growing at all.

“right now it’s just a little plot of land that 150 people can enjoy and can one day be (totally) sustainable at this size,” gray said. “the bigger it gets, the harder it is to stay sustainable. that does worry me a little bit, i think it worries a lot of people.”

people have big dreams for the outdoor recreation department and kalu yala as a whole. as the town gets older, residents are growing more and more aware that many of these changes will be much harder to implement than they envisioned.

“we think very startup-y in the way that we say ‘can this scale? can we have more people living like this?’” said esteban gast, the former president of the kalu yala institute. “and we know that not everyone’s going to live like this.” gast left his position recently to take a job in media in los angeles.

springer, gray and chow think a lot about how to bring san miguel residents into the conversation of outdoor recreation and other opportunities at kalu yala. tuition, paid by the international interns, is waived for any resident of san miguel.

“right now my audience just includes my interns which is a group of six students,” springer said. “but the projects we’re working on is for the benefit of the whole kalu yala community and then eventually hopefully the panamanian community.”

in the end, it’s a matter of time before anyone – within or without kalu yala – will be able to predict the future of what many hope will become a model for sustainable towns around the globe. 

“right now, i don’t think there’s anything wrong with what kalu yala is doing,” gray said. “everyone here has the right mindset, they have the right goals. the bigger it gets, the more it just turns into another town so that is definitely worrisome.”