Update: Belatedly posted new comments (apologies for the long delay).
Last Monday, I visited the Catholic Homesteading Movement in Norwich, NY. This Movement consists of a nice, large, Catholic family whose only umbilical cord to the outside world is their mailbox (which, someone mentioned, used to be a barrel, although I didn’t see it so I can’t be sure).
No phones. No electricity. No DSL line. Not even the obligatory satellite dish that adorns many an otherwise rustic lawn/appliance graveyard in our rural byways.
I was curious to find out how they live. I was disappointed. I didn’t find out how they live. I was only there for around four hours, which is less time than it took to get there. I learned more about guessing which backroads match the unlabelled squiggles in my atlas than I did about daily homesteading life. But I did learn a bit about the course topic: buying land. And (get ready, here it comes) I learned a little about myself.
I would have been on time if it hadn’t snowed. The last quarter mile separating the Catholic Homesteading Movement from the rest of New York happened to be under a foot of snow and rather steeply uphill. Fortunately, there were two other people just starting the trek as I arrived. I’m glad they were there, because otherwise it would have been a bit lonely out there on the slope, surrounded by the extreme quiet of a bare wintry valley and ridges of grey hills sternly surrounding me.
But they were soon way ahead of me, and then it was lonely. It took about eight seconds for my side to start hurting, and as I painfully huffed my suburban self up the slope towards no visible goal and felt outside for the first time in months, I had an exquisite opportunity to ask myself just what the heck I was doing out here. What was I looking for? Here it was, nature, and I was cold, in pain, and running late. I couldn’t formulate what I wanted, but I began to realize it had better be worth it.
Soon the road curved and I saw the little log cabin waiting for us. It didn’t wait long. I passed a goat that was tethered to a post in the middle of a field. It was giving the traditional bleat that means you are officially in the country. Then the rustic cabin door opened and I was inside.
Wow. As the title suggested, this was not your usual rustic homesteader cabin. At least, it wasn’t as far as I could tell, based on my limited acquaintance with the work of Laura Ingalls Wilder. This was probably the size of two bathrooms end to end, and it was smaller than some bathrooms I’ve seen. The roof peaked at a sharp angle, leaving room for a small loft on either side. The floor was of large slabs of stone embedded in concrete(?), the walls were white plaster, and a short, squat wood stove the size of a large toaster was just ugly enough to keep unwise suburbanites like myself from sitting on it. If there hadn’t been, say, nine people in the room, it would have been enchanting. It was still heavily intriguing. I shook hands with Mr. Fahey, smiled vacuously at everyone else, and let my eyes wander in delight at this crazy little house.
I never mentioned I’d be writing anything while I was there, so I won’t say anything about the other folks who came, not even the reporter, who was doing a story on something (he never said what) and made all of us a similar promise. In fact, it occurs to me that, despite the free publicity, Mr. Fahey himself might not be thrilled if I summarized his course, so the rest of this blog will be brief and distinctly episodic.
Two major points to pass on here. First, Fahey began the course with a reading from Numbers 12 (or 13), in which God tells the Israelites just what to look for as they scout out the Promised Land. I never thought of the Israelites as homesteaders, but you know what, what else would you call them? Army?
Secondly, and slightly less profound (unless you can spin out a metaphor here), drainage matters. You’re probably thinking, “Oh sure, don’t put the library at the bottom of the 85 degree hill. I knew that.” WRONG. That’s runoff, where rain ends up thanks to the wonder of gravity.
What drainage means is what the soil does with the rain before it runs off. If there’s too little soil, the soil doesn’t absorb the rain very well. After a downpour, you get those sloshy swamps that slurp up Sunday shoes, and then in a day or two the old swamp is bone dry. Neither of these conditions are good for crops, who aren’t thrilled with the shallow soil to begin with because there’s not much room for their roots to stretch, grow, and find self-actualization. Thus, if you have shallow soil that quickly ends in hardpan (a.k.a “brown concrete”, courtesy of relentless tractor use) or just plain old bedrock, then you have what farmers in their subjective way dub poor drainage. Or bad drainage, that’s fine too.
What the wide-eyed homesteader should instead seek is good drainage, which if I remember aright means having at least 6 inches of good soil, if not much more. How can you tell if your soil has good drainage or bad drainage? Read the plants. Fahey took us around his snowy, windswept property, showing us the sparse tree growth and crooked branches that signalled poor drainage and the denser growth and straighter branches that showed good drainage. It was fascinating. What was just a background blur of trees abruptly had meaning.
Read the plants. I never knew you could. Now I’m in kindergarten again, puzzling out my first ABC’s. As we took that walk, I was shown a world where every plant could tell me something, whether the soil was acid or base, fertile or infertile, shallow or deep. Haltingly, I sounded out a few simple words from the tapestry of the world.
We walked through a forest of evergreen hemlocks, and I realized that I was actually in the silent, snowy forest of pines that frequently haunts my imagination. Then all at once the pines stopped, and the forest became bare deciduous trees. I shrugged and didn’t think to question it, but Fahey explained that something like that doesn’t just happen; there’s some major difference in the soil. Hardly an explanation, more a gesture in the direction of answer, but that little comment made me feel the world grow around me. The little bubble of coherence I in which I walk expanded past the whir of my own mind and the squawks of my fellow humans and touched the tips of the trees and the ground beneath my feet.
After a lesson on winter tree identification by Fahey’s daughter, we adjourned to the half-cabin for fried bread nuggets, home-grown apples, and peppermint tea with the peppermint intact. I don’t know why it is I don’t believe people when they say something’s hot. My tongue was still a bit raw when I got home five hours later.
I don’t yet know if I’ll be visiting again. They were friendly and their knowledge was obviously vast. But I sit and type this blog and think of all the people who could read it, and I think I’ll probably be the homesteader who hooks up his own windmill and tries to run a server off a discarded satellite dish. Technology is abused and marvelous.
Still, the half-cabin rankles with me as a challenge. Just how far am I from the world God created and creates? How many layers of electricity and ease lie between me and the ability even to recognize His creatures, let alone feed myself? My wife’s reading a book on having root cellar, and the author mentions that since even deer teach their children how to survive winter, we shouldn’t do any less. It may be that the computer should be quaint to me, not the tree. I may have a long way to go to get there.
On my way out the door, Fahey called, “Read the book of Exodus.” Why? Because everything the Israelites went through in the desert on their way to the Big Homestead was about to crash on me. I wonder if it’s true.
P.S. No, he didn’t call it the Big Homestead. That one’s all mine.
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guadalupe76 says:
I’m one of Richard Fahey’s daughters. I find your blog very interesting. My dad is a crazy one. I was kicked out of there in 1994 when I was eighteen and not allowed back. Seven of my brothers and sisters have also left and are now living in freedom from his abuse. I wish visitors who go up to the homestead could know the real story about my father—how he mentally and physically terrorized us. He looks and sounds like a wise, smart, kind man, but he has a dark sinister side. I’m glad you only saw his good side. If you ever go up there, ask him what he thinks of his daughter Guadalupe Maria. Good luck and God bless your family!
January 22nd, 2006 at 10:57 pm -
Bill Powell says:
Bill here. When an acquaintance recently expressed surprise over Guadalupe’s post, it belatedly occured to me that Mr. Fahey is, of all people, singularly hampered in his ability to reply to this sort of comment online. I should have added a long time ago that I emailed Guadalupe before posting this comment, and in her reply she clarified her meaning a bit. I’m not on my own computer, so I don’t have her email by me; I don’t want to soften her accusations, but on the other hand “abuse” and “terrorize” are words that shouldn’t be left to our overactive tabloid imaginations, especially when the subject is a stern patriarch off in the countryside. No one was ritually tortured. You can laugh, but that was the first thing I thought. Thank you, television.
I honestly don’t remember the exact details, nor am I sure she would want them online; I do remember that she described the sorts of parental faults you could find all too easily in any father (or mother) who errs on the side of discipline, authority, and his own extremely clear ideas. This isn’t a justification; these are bad things to do. But they are neither exotic nor peculiar to counterculturals. And it is vital to point this out, because people are often all too ready to believe the worst of those who are deliberately different.
She also wrote that her siblings had reported that her father had improved somewhat in recent years.
I’m glad she wrote in, because it is true that Mr. Fahey presents his way of life as a model for families. I didn’t see any such abuse on my two visits there, and he didn’t advocate such behavior in his courses; on the other hand, when you present yourself as a model, perhaps you need to air your own shortcomings a bit to preclude the potenial for scandal. Not that I get on here and confess all my sins either.
Still, while I am consoled to think that this page doesn’t quite have the hit count of Project Gutenburg, I hope no one has been misled into false fancies of a crazed homesteader. That would be grossly unfair to both father and daughter.
August 26th, 2007 at 11:07 pm -
Bill Powell says:
Every once in awhile, I get a request for an address for the Catholic Homesteading Movement. Here's the address that headed their 2007 Schedule:
Catholic Homesteading Movement 21 Delaware Square Norwich, NY 13815
If you send a SASE, you can get all sorts of information. If you send them a note, please send my greetings. Thanks!
2008 Jan 19, 16:12 Sat -
Hey, this is Anna Marie Fahey, another one of Richard Fahey's daughters, in fact the youngest. You might remember me at the homestead. I just want to say hi to you Bill, and your family! I hope you are doing well.I finally found your blog...I have been looking for it for months!
I do want to say, that what my sister wrote was true when she was there, I believe, and I believe that she was treated unjustly. I think my father has gotten more reasonable,and realizes he cannot control our lives. I have respect for the way of life they chose for themselves, and I think everyone should be able to live as they wish. I definitely want to live out in the country, but having just left home I am living with one of my sisters in the suburbs. I think we should have had more freedom while living on the homestead. I think you are right, that when you present yourself as a model, you also need to have humility to realize that you are not always right, which is probably one of my fathers' greatest shortcomings. I think that is probably one of the greatest faults of most Americans.
Anyway, Guadalupe is going to be mad at me for defending him, but I feel that I know a different father than she did. I liked growing up on the homestead, the open spaces and gardening and eating what you grow, and taking care of animals, and the hard work. I believe it helped me become a strong, caring, independent, tough person. I am grateful to my parents for raising me that way.
In case you are wondering, I am studying organ music and I hope one day to be a church organist. I am also interested in floristry. I hope your family is doing well, I would love to hear from you, as to how your "homestead" is going and your children as well!
Anna Marie Fahey
What God wills, as he wills, and as much as he wills.-St Bernadette
"A person is a person, no matter how small"
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Hi Anna Marie!
I am glad you found Bill's website. It is nice to hear that you and your family are doing well. This is Larry Gilbert from Hopewell, Va. We met when I attended the Homesteading Week course in 2004. (You may remember me as the man who left the course early and didn't stay the whole week. I discovered that I wasn't as well prepared for the rustic camping experience as I thought I was. But I enjoyed the course otherwise.) I can't believe that it's been almost four years! I remember talking with you. There was another sister there also, Kateri, I believe. Correct me if I'm wrong. Also, brothers Rene, Martin, and Isaac. And your mother, of course. I really enjoyed the homestead. It was very beautiful and peaceful. I fell in love with the Chenango area of New York when I first came up there for the Introduction To Homesteading course in October of 2001. Now that's really going back a few years! It being autumn, the trees were decked out in gorgeous fall colors, diamonds of light reflected from the Chenango River, and a cool, crisp breeze flowed over the rolling hills. . . but I digress. Springtime is just as beautiful.
I'm sorry to hear that you kids had "Dad Trouble." I am 50 years old and my wife and I have raised two daughters. I know that it is easy to be too stern at times. In retrospect, I realize that I could have been more loving and less controlling, myself, at times. I like your Dad, but of course I only see him at his best and for a short while, not on a day-to-day basis. The children I met at the homestead seemed happy and well-adjusted. (I might add: intelligent, articulate, and polite.) Also, most seem to be following the faith of their parents. That's a good sign. I hope all turns out well in the long run.
My wife and I will being going back to the homestead this April. I will attend the Fruit Tree Grafting course, while my wife attends the Spinning Workshop. We look forward to seeing your family and the homestead once again.
Blessings,
Larry & Jackie Gilbert
11 Mar 2008 -
I have attended several of the CHM classes and have done some side jobs for them. I could tell when I met Richard, that he was a lot like my parents. Very knowledgeable and generous at times; but could have a tendency to be judgmental and a bit self-righteous. I learned with my parents how relate without conflict and knew to try to just stick to the topic at hand. There were only problems when I didn't do that.
I loved their cabin and didn't find it too small, there are areas of the cabin that are off limit to visitors and I'm sure their home was big enough for their family. One person I have met thought the tool shed was their cabin and at first I thought you must have meant that too, but then when you spoke of the floors I knew you were describing their beautiful cabin. I sketched it out for my notes when I first saw it because I loved their fireplace area so much.
I found Anna Marie and Elizabeth to have the souls of an angel with their mild demeanor, though I wasn't always sure if I was talking too much and annoying them. So I tried to err on the quiet side.
I have always learned so much from them, that even though he has made me cry a few times (though I don't know if he knows this, but he son saw), I kept going back. The last time was a bit much though and he hurt my feelings too badly for me to go back for a while, but I am pretty sensitive.
We now only communicate via mail. We all have our faults and he has no way to defend himself here. I applaud him for trying to teach what he knows and open him self up to public criticism of their lifestyle. Something I don't know if I could do.
Though I found some of their lifestyle to be unnecessarily harsh even for a homesteader, that was the route they chose and who am I to judge.
I'm sure he was pretty harsh with his kids just like my Dad was, trying to keep us safe from the world and it's ways. My Dad was trying to save our lives and felt he was absolutely right, so he felt justified in his harshness and judgment. Then one day everyone grows up and leaves, and Dads get older. When that happens, sometimes they find out they didn't know everything and have some growing up to do for themselves.
Jamie
23 Mar 2009 -
My name is Gigi and my two daughters, Shanti and Chelsea, and I attended the week long homesteading workshop in 1992. We enjoyed our time there and often talk about it. We have always wondered how the family was doing and what life direction the Fahey children chose to take. It was good to find your blog to get some insight on what they are doing now. I think of them all often and wish them all the best in their lives. May God bless them.
29 Mar 2009 -
Hi!! My name is Dick (Richard) List. I stayed at the farm in 1969 and I visited in 2006. I would enjoy communicating with anyone about the farm. I think I have some insight, and I wish to learn more. I like Richard Fahey, but I did find him harsh.
www.richardlistcompany@gmail.com
Thanks!!!
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I have attended several of the CHM classes and have done some side jobs for them. I could tell when I met Richard, that he was a lot like my parents. Very knowledgeable and generous at times; but could have a tendency to be judgmental and a bit self-righteous. I learned with my parents how relate without conflict and knew to try to just stick to the topic at hand. There were only problems when I didn't do that.
I loved their cabin and didn't find it too small, there are areas of the cabin that are off limit to visitors and I'm sure their home was big enough for their family. One person I have met thought the tool shed was their cabin and at first I thought you must have meant that too, but then when you spoke of the floors I knew you were describing their beautiful cabin. I sketched it out for my notes when I first saw it because I loved their fireplace area so much.
I found Anna Marie and Elizabeth to have the souls of an angel with their mild demeanor, though I wasn't always sure if I was talking too much and annoying them. So I tried to err on the quiet side.
I have always learned so much from them, that even though he has made me cry a few times (though I don't know if he knows this, but he son saw), I kept going back. The last time was a bit much though and he hurt my feelings too badly for me to go back for a while, but I am pretty sensitive.
We now only communicate via mail. We all have our faults and he has no way to defend himself here. I applaud him for trying to teach what he knows and open him self up to public criticism of their lifestyle. Something I don't know if I could do.
Though I found some of their lifestyle to be unnecessarily harsh even for a homesteader, that was the route they chose and who am I to judge.
I'm sure he was pretty harsh with his kids just like my Dad was, trying to keep us safe from the world and it's ways. My Dad was trying to save our lives and felt he was absolutely right, so he felt justified in his harshness and judgment. Then one day everyone grows up and leaves, and Dads get older. When that happens, sometimes they find out they didn't know everything and have some growing up to do for themselves.
Jamie
23 Mar 2009 -
My name is Gigi and my two daughters, Shanti and Chelsea, and I attended the week long homesteading workshop in 1992. We enjoyed our time there and often talk about it. We have always wondered how the family was doing and what life direction the Fahey children chose to take. It was good to find your blog to get some insight on what they are doing now. I think of them all often and wish them all the best in their lives. May God bless them.
29 Mar 2009 -
Hi!! My name is Dick (Richard) List. I stayed at the farm in 1969 and I visited in 2006. I would enjoy communicating with anyone about the farm. I think I have some insight, and I wish to learn more. I like Richard Fahey, but I did find him harsh.
www.richardlistcompany@gmail.com
Thanks!!!
26 Jun 2009