BRATTLEBORO — Shop locally, they say. It's the right thing to do, they say.
As I sit down to write this piece, I'm battling internally - deciding which part of me wants to dominate this discussion: necessity or shame.
It would be very easy to retreat into a local-shopping shame spiral. I know this because, monthly, I do feel the red-cheeked and shifty-eyed monster when I head just over state lines to give New Hampshire and Massachusetts almost 100 percent of my dollars for food and other necessary (see: two-ply in bulk) living expenses.
Like the majority of Brattleboro residents, we are a working-class family on a budget. We have a modest home, a modest car, a modest life, and a matching modest income. We are clothed, fed, and sheltered, and there's not much wiggle room for more. Luxury and whim are not in the budget or up for more than a light-hearted, wishful-thinking discussion.
We are one of a growing number of families across America who live paycheck to paycheck. We pay our bills. We pay our mortgage. Student loans are current, and there might even be a steak in the freezer, but there's not room for much else.
We've found a way to live within our means and, sadly, this doesn't currently include shopping locally, more than peripherally.
And, if I'm being honest, I have to let go of the shame in order to provide my family with the absolute best our dollar can provide.
It's my job to take what we have and perform the fishes-and-the-loaves miracle every month. I'm not in line for sainthood (yet), but my family is well-fed and warm. This is tangible success. I have given up my righteousness for full bellies and a pantry that provides a meal when the bank account refuses to budge.
* * *
I don't drive to New Hampshire because I don't care about local business, or because I'm locally or ethically bankrupt, or because I have lower standards of health and welfare.
I drive to New Hampshire because the organic yogurt I purchase for my children is $2 cheaper per container. I want to give my children organic yogurt. They put away a lot of yogurt. Math is hard, but $2 a container multiplied by a lot of containers = therefore, I drive.
It's not as easy as making a definitive, moral statement. Not just because local shopping morality includes a level of personal discretion but, simply, because superior morality sometimes dresses as judgmental superiority.
It's not that we don't care, it's that I care much more about the quantity and quality of what I put in my children's bodies.
The truth is, when I go to Market Basket, I can fill a grocery cart overflowing with healthy, unprocessed food for around $150. Necessity wins.
There is a disconnect between moral obligation and the money available to fund it. Would I love to make all of my purchases locally? Of course.
Would I have to sacrifice quality in order to make that happen? Absolutely.
Am I willing to make my children suffer for the cause, no matter how worthy?
No.
* * *
We try to strike a balance. We adore Whippersnappers, a local second-hand children's clothing store. We support our local Recreation and Parks department by sending our children to the occasional class. We pinch pennies to send our daughter to her one elective class per season at the New England Youth Theatre.
Beadniks has the best supply of lollipops for toddlers in mid-meltdown. The Blue Moose Café makes the most heavenly breve latte. (Excuse me while I trail off into imagined caffeine bliss.... OK, I'm back.)
We sprinkle our dimes and dollars about town when dimes and dollars are available, but we cannot commit to a purely local lifestyle. It is not feasible, and that's OK.
It has to be OK because dinners need to be made and healthy lunches packed and dishes washed, because oil must be paid for to heat the home with its local mortgage and its taxes paid on time.
We're all just doing the best we can with what we have. I like to believe that counts for something.