Issue #1: To Begin...

Dear friends,

¹Welcome to Matters of Kinship.

Author’s Note: Matters of Kinship is a newsletter about collaboration between ecosystems.

Kinship recognizes equality consciousness for all beings. For these teachings, I am grateful to my north star, Robin Wall Kimmerer, author of Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants. I am also grateful to Suzanne Simard, Elena Brower, Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, Wendy Johnson, Kristin Ohlson, and the gardeners, journalists, teachers, and scientists who, particularly in the last few decades, have found their way into mainstream publications and more recently to online platforms such as Substack.

I see my job as a translator of books and experiences concerning collaboration in nature. I am here to offer stellar findings in the natural world as we navigate this very important decade when every decision we make must involve Earth and her species.

ISSUE #1 TO BEGIN…

In 1979 I worked for a Fortune 500 investment company. The company lived by an equality mindset; fairness was extended to customers, employees, shareholders, and products. Integrity mattered. When we worked hard, the company rewarded us: with steady paychecks, vacations, healthcare benefits, and bonuses. For most of us, working there was a reciprocal relationship of deep privilege.

In my second decade of work, the consultants arrived in suits and suspenders. They, and upper management, pulled off a shift in company culture. The moral compass we knew collapsed.

In 1990, still undecided about whether to stay or go, with four meetings scheduled for the day, I spilled coffee on my newspaper. An article in The New York Times questioned our accounting practices. The story was hard to miss, not buried in the business section but on the front page.

I called Home Office for guidance. My vice president’s voice was flat. “What do you want me to do about it, Katharine?” The question landed hard, somewhere in my body, the way disappointment can feel like a fragile edge, finally cracked. I don’t know if my brain or my heart hurt more. The realization was finally delivered, my leadership position did not align with the larger scheme of the company’s intended profit objectives.

Later that year I did leave. I moved to a village on Narragansett Bay. It was a different way of knowing the planet. The bay, a type of estuary, is a collaboration of fresh and saltwater governed by tides and biodiversity. Those areas of my body that hurt, from a trust disrupted, absorbed salty air, and water. First as a great sting and then as healing.

I wrote for the local paper. I cleaned houses. I wrote. I washed boats. I wrote. I got a somewhat steady job in a welding shop in Wickford Shipyard. My favorite customers were the sailors. Couples who sailed together had a primordial understanding of wind energy. They knew how to read the weather, trim the sails and make mid-course adjustments. They understood each other in stormy conditions. They were storytellers~where they had sailed and where they were going next. Often they invited me along. But work called.

The boss did give me days off for freelance work. On an overcast morning in 1997, I stood on Gardner’s Wharf, notebook in hand. I was to board a work skiff to observe a day in the life of a quahogger.

Steve Seymour was a hard worker. He was fine with my presence but his focus was on the other skiffs and his mooring placement. Once he dropped anchor we settled into easy banter. He answered questions while rhythmically bull-raking the mud.

Steve’s no-nonsense, no sick day, no health care approach to work was a lesson to me, self-exiled from the land of steady paychecks. Steve chose to get up early, study the tides and figure out his gear. He exerted the equivalent of a five hour high level boot camp workout, every single day. When he had harvested the day’s catch, he exemplified the old world Indigenous teaching~take only what you need.

Steve’s harvest landed in markets up and down the east coast. His clams marked up many times more than his take, delighted diners. His work supported his small family with a child on the way.

Fishing is a male-dominated industry. Yet throughout history, women have fished and cared for the sea. They have been largely absent from fishing companies and conservation decisions.

On the coast of North Carolina, Ana Shellem wakes early to check the tides. She boards her work skiff to spend mornings harvesting shellfish in solitude. Shell’em Seafood is her one-woman sustainable fishing company. Her mission, to deliver same day tide-to-table product, results in demand for the unique flavor of her oysters, clams, and mussels. Ana searches out marshes where ribbed mussels are often overlooked. Instead of selling to a middleman, she sells to her chefs. After cleaning and sorting, Ana personally delivers her catch to Wilmington area restaurants. Like Steve Seymour, in the Indigenous manner, she takes only what she needs. Last August Governor Roy Cooper appointed Ana Shellem to the North Carolina Marine Fisheries Commission. We’ll talk more with Ana in Issue #4

For now, let’s pause. In the next several issues, expect a deeper exploration of Steve and Ana’s work life, the meaning of kinship in the world of shellfish, and the environmental issues facing their survival.

Use the comment section, please. Ask questions. Please render kindness and kinship in our exchanges.

I hope you will continue to meander with me.

my best,

kath

Sources:

A Day in the Life of a Quahogger by Katharine Winship, The North Kingstown Villager (now defunct) June 1996

Ana Shellem: She Harvests Shellfish and Helps Protect Them by Shivani Vora, The New York Times as part of the Women and Leadership special report.

Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer (Milkweed)

Gardening at the Dragon’s Gate by Wendy Johnson (out of print but worth the search)

Bill McKibben: The Crucial Years, Substack

Patagonia mussels: www.patagoniaprovisions.com

Dr. Ayana Elizabeth Johnson: www.ayanaelizabeth.com

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