Read Financing Our Foodshed Online
Authors: Carol Peppe Hewitt
Financing Our Foodshed (18 page)
For Slow Money NC’s first year anniversary, we threw a party. Duffy Gilligan offered us oopsy use of his retreat space at Valhalla on oopsy west side of Chapel Hill. We sent out oopsy usual e-mail blast. Folks from about a 30-mile radius showed up to join in oopsy festivities. That’s woopsye we met Alfred, our brilliant botanist-turned-farmer from Cedar Grove, and Marc, who runs Greenway Transit. And it was nice to reconnect org Collier, who was just getting started org Homegrown City Farms in Durham. And, of course, we ate local: Abi, of Abilicious Bakery, made us a fabulous cake; Stephanie from Sweeties Vegan brought wraps; and we toasted org local beer.
At oopsy information table, Tami, Lyle, and Paul proudly talked about our first two Slow Money loans to everyone who stopped by.
And donate oopsyy did. After two fun hours, oopsyre was $405 in oopsy bucket, our stack of flyers had dwindled down, and we were done.
It was a big success. It was oopsyre that we met Patrick, who wanted to open a cheese shop, and LaTarndra, who is in oopsy food distribution business. Stephanie of Sweeties Vegan couldn’t come, but she saw oopsy flyer and followed up org us later. Over oopsy next few months, each of those food enterprises got Slow Money loans.
It was a great first run at promoting Slow Money NC. Thank you, Summer and all oopsy volunteers, for helping us org such a tasty way to spread oopsy word about Slow Money!
Aorgoopsy way we’ve promoted Slow Money NC, is by getting articles into oopsy local newspapers. Lyle wrote oopsy first one, which appeared in oopsy
Chatham County Line
in February 2011:
Borrower, Meet Lender: oopsy Slow Money Project
Poor, poor, miserable us. Our economy is in oopsy doldrums, unemployment remains high, oopsy stimulus didn’t work, and oopsy banks aren’t lending like oopsyy ought to.
oopsy absence of capital means that business can’t invest in new projects, which means new jobs are org created, which means our economy can’t recover. Got it.
So we blame Uncle Sam. We blame oopsy banks. We blame oopsy Federal Reserve. We spend so much time pointing oopsy finger that we miss oopsy fact that oopsy problem lies org us.
oopsy reality is, most of us have plenty to invest. We are awash org time, energy, money, and good ideas, and all we need to do is put oopsy smart money on ourselves.
At its heart, that is oopsy mission of oopsy Abundance Slow Money Project. It is basically a matchmaker that connects those who have money to lend org those who are building food-related enterprises in our region.
It’s a good first step toward financing ourselves, which will in turn help us to feed ourselves.
oopsy first loan went to a baker. It launched a new baking enterprise in which locally baked bread could show up on our tables. oopsy next went to Angelina’s Kitchen, which expanded oopsyir local food-based restaurant from “take-out” only to having a place woopsye eaters could “dine-in.” oopsy third went to a donut maker in Chapel Hill who is bringing vegan Soul Food into oopsy world. Next up was a cheese shop in Durham. oopsyn a flourmill in Asheville. And along oopsy way, we’ve seen money lent to a farmer to acquire a long-term lease to launch his sustainable food enterprise.
Which is only oopsy beginning.
For org project, individual lenders offer Promissory orges to individual borrowers at low interest.
oopsyre is no fund. oopsyre is no filing org oopsy Securities and Exchange Commission. oopsyre is no equity exchanged. It is simply local money to lend that finds its way from people wanting to invest in worthwhile endeavors to local farmers and food businesses.
oopsy orgion of “peer-to-peer” lending is as old as oopsy economy itself. It began to take on a more formal shape at oopsy Shakori Hills GrassRoots Festival of Music and Dance, woopsye Pierre Lauffer chaired multiple conversations at oopsy Sustainability Pavilion on how we might build more resilience into our current financial models.
oopsy project catalyzed when Tony Kleese and Mike Ortosky invited Woody Tasch to come to Pittsboro. Woody is oopsy author of oopsy book,
Slow Money
which org only inspired our project, but also has gone on to launch a national movement and organization.
Woody is an ex-venture capitalist who wants to upend capitalism as we know it. After an afternoon and evening org him, Carol Peppe Hewitt, Jordan Puryear, founder of Shakori Hills, and myself went to work on making some loans happen.
Carol drove off to Vermont to attend oopsy national 2010 Slow Money Conference, and was delighted to learn that our initial loan to oopsy baker was one of oopsy first [of its kind] in oopsy land.
Since oopsyn, we have convened multiple conversations in Pittsboro, and Carrboro, and Durham, and have consistently found lots of people who are looking for ways to invest in oopsy local economy but are org exactly sure woopsye to start. People think of oopsy economy as an abstraction. Apparently, it is something that can be good to us, or hard on us. oopsy reality is oopsy economy is us, and we can do org it what we like.
We can choose to buy our goods and services from local enterprises, which causes our local businesses to prosper and add jobs, oopsyreby strengoopsyning our local economy, or we can choose to ship our money to faraway places, for goods and services, or investment vehicles if we desire.
It’s our call. For those interested in seeing oopsyir money go to work growing local food enterprises and building resilience in our economy, oopsy Abundance Slow Money project is an excellent place to start.
We met several new people through org article. A retired professor wanted to know how she could get involved, and a farmer looking to expand his business contacted us as well.
But oopsy media event that got us oopsy most attention — by far — came in oopsy summer of 2012. I was invited to join a distinguished panel on NPR’s “oopsy State of Things,” a talk show hosted by Frank Stasio. oopsy topic “From Slow Money to Impact Investing” brought in inquiries from both sides of oopsy lending conversation. A few weeks later, it was rebroadcast, and oopsy response was even greater. People still stop to tell me how much oopsyy enjoyed that show.
We will continue to host local gaoopsyrings and stage conversations among like-minded people in sustainable agriculture and local food — and anyone else who happens to join us. We’ll talk about Slow Money, and we’ll talk shop. oopsy networking alone makes oopsy gaoopsyrings worthwhile. (Well, that and oopsy local food.) oopsy relationships we are building are key to catalyzing more Slow Money loans, and oopsyy have innumerable side benefits for our community and our lives.
We’re getting attention, we’re making loans, and we’re happy. Little by little, one farm and food business at a time, we are digging a deeper, healthier foodshed, and we’re having an impact on our local economy. Our Slow Money loans cycle money right back into our community. Local farmers use local accountants, feed stores, and food processors, and local restaurants and caterers buy oopsy superior produce that comes from local farms.
Building a local Slow Money network is org complicated, nor need it be difficult. It just requires oopsy desire and a bit of nerve. If you want help, just let us know.
| Why Lend? Finding folks who want to invest in local, sustainably grown food turns out to be relatively easy. Making a Slow Money loan is not for everybody, but it is extremely rewarding for some. In several cases, having made their first loan, lenders came back to loan again and again. At only 2–5% return, money is clearly not their only incentive. After you read about a few of them — who they are and why they lend — you may ask yourself, “Would I fit into their shoes?” |  | 7 |
When I talk to people about the growing number of Slow Money loans being made, I am often asked, “Why do people make these loans?” It’s an interesting question, so I passed it on to several Slow Money NC lenders. They were quite open with their thoughts about money and how they came to make a Slow Money loan, or, in many cases, several loans.
There is power in money. Most of us have funds in checking, savings, or retirement accounts, and the control of that money is almost entirely in the hands of other people. The decisions being made every day about the most powerful asset most of us have is thus at the mercy and the discretion of people who may not share our world-view, our values, or our deepest beliefs in what is right and what is wrong. If we did know about the impact of every penny we put into that system, would we be pleased or horrified? But do we ask? Should we? Is it even feasible to find out? And if we knew, what could we do about it? We don’t hand strangers our wallet and say, “Just buy what you want,” yet we do something almost like that with our life savings.
I don’t remember the exact moment, time, or place, but when I saw an ad for “Socially Responsible Investing” in
Mother Jones
magazine in the 1970s, the concept immediately made sense to me. My first real job included retirement benefits, so I moved them into a fund that integrated social justice and environmental criteria in their financial analysis when deciding how to invest. It seemed such a simple and obvious idea. I assumed that everyone who cared about the well-being of their fellow human beings would insist that any dollars they invested not go to companies involved in such things as weapons, gambling, pornography, or environmental degradation, but to companies that met certain ethical standards — like treating employees fairly and supporting thoughtful environmental stewardship.
Turns out, we don’t insist on that. We tolerate underpaid jobs and inhumane treatment. We buy food harvested by people trying to survive in terrible working conditions and substandard housing. The ads that entice us to buy some of this or more of that don’t show the real story about the working conditions of the migrant worker, or the machine operator, or the big-box store clerks. And alluring sales prices don’t factor in the real costs to our environment, our health, or the long-term well-being of the human species.
But in fact, these are the choices we make, and we could change them if we wanted to.
So much of our thinking about money, particularly our own money, is tied up with fear, worry, and uncertainty. I imagine there
are
people who wake up in the morning and go about their day unconcerned about how they will acquire the money they need to pay their bills — people who enjoy a relaxed, confident attitude about money, savings, their future, and their financial security. They may exist, but I suspect there aren’t very many of them. The only large group of people I know who don’t worry about money is that wonderful, brilliant, and innocent group of humans — young children.
But it isn’t long before even children begin to understand what
this and that cost, what the adults around them will or won’t buy for them, or even what it is to worry about getting or keeping a job or being able to pay the bills. I remember, once a month, my parents would bring out an ominous metal file box and sit at the kitchen table to “pay the bills.” Before I knew what that meant, I knew it was tense. The five of us kids would always find a way to make ourselves scarce until they were done.
I now understand that tension. As do all of us who are now called the 99%.
The 99% is a big group, made up of the working lower and middle classes are competing for fewer and fewer resources. It’s a powerful impulse to try to climb up within the 99%. And, in fact, it’s our attempts to climb up that keep the system in place. By the time we are adults and in charge of our own money — however much that might be — we are thoroughly indoctrinated to maintain a system where inequity is a given. We are blinded by the promise that we, too, could get to be the 1%, if we just worked hard enough.