I was doing my best impersonation of an inconspicuous reporter sitting in the back of a hotel meeting room in Kentucky some years ago when in walked Wendell Berry, the writer, farmer, and great moral voice who died yesterday at the age of 92.
A few dozen people were gathered there—academics, activists, one former coal miner and another’s widow. Berry seemed to know most of them, though he was by far the only famous one in the mix.
They had gathered to protest the state’s ongoing mountaintop removal coal mining- that horrific practice of blowing the tops off mountains to get to the coal seams buried inside. Dynamite was more destructive, but more cost-effective, than the alternatives.
I may not have understood quite how horrific this assault on mountains was if I hadn’t seen the aftermath of such operations by flying over them in a single-engine plane the day before.
Words failed me then as now. This was not a natural landscape turned into some kind of urban sprawl, or even needed housing or a hospital.
It was nature, ravaged and left that way. Once a place of wonder, now detritus.
Some things are too sad to cry over. That’s how it made me feel.
I could only imagine what those gathered in that room felt, Kentuckians all.
They planned to hold their protest as a sit-in in the Governor’s Office. The hotel room was the advance gathering spot.
When Berry walked in, I noticed several things. His affable nature. His height. And the toothbrush in his jacket pocket.
He brought a toothbrush, he explained to someone who asked, in case they ended up arrested and had to spend the night in prison.
As the group began to organize itself—planning who would drive in which cars and by which route—I found myself wrestling with a nagging question.
Wendell Berry was—and remains—one of our most respected nature writers. He’d studied English at the University of Kentucky and writing at Stanford University, written many books, and been awarded the National Humanities Medal, the nation’s highest award for humanitarian services.
Berry was a serious man. A passionate champion of the environment, farmers, rural America—and economic equality. He didn’t seem like someone who would spend a day doing something just for show.
But did he really think participating in a sit-in in the Governor’s office in a state known as coal country would make a difference? Did he truly think it would lead to any kind of change at all?
Having learned that one must grab a chance to ask one’s burning questions when one can, I went up to him before he left the hotel room and asked.
I knew I might sound jaded, and I was surprised to feel that way. But I just couldn’t wrap my mind around witnessing Berry’s participation in something with such long odds.
So I asked, “Do you really think this will be successful?”
I don’t know if it will be successful, he said. What I do know is that’s the wrong question. The right question is, ‘Is it the right thing to do?’ And I know it’s the right thing to do.
Then he went on to say that he thought people spent too much time focusing on whether they would succeed at something before they even tried.
That, he said without a trace of the easy smile he shared with his fellow protestors, was a mistake.
I had clearly been schooled by Wendell Berry. What a privilege.
Lisa Bennett is co-author of Ecoliterate with emotional intelligence expert Daniel Goleman and author of the forthcoming book, Savor the World. A speaker and facilitator, her work is focused on renewing leadership in purpose-driven organizations.
This is maybe the best thing I have read this week. Thank you for sharing this. As a Kentuckian, nature essayist, and long-time admirer of Berry and his work, I am saddened by his passing. What a life he lived, though.
A great schooling, Lisa. I've often told people that if they're going to challenge what isn't working, they also have a responsibility to contribute to changing it.