COUNTRY CORNER
Environmental hazards exist in cities as well as on farms
By Chuck Lay, Today's Farmer editor

"Where do you stand on dismantling large cities?" Woody asked as I was sitting down. The lighting was dim. I apparently was dimmer.

"Huh?" I replied, signaling the waitress.

"You know, big towns."

"Help me out here," I said. "I have no idea where you're going."

Most of my conversations with Woody start out like that--with me clueless. It's getting worse as we both get older. And more frequent. Woody's a construction worker who dabbles in agriculture. His gruff exterior is not a facade. It's real enough to keep ironworkers at bay.

"Well, I saw in the paper Springfield, Mo., was pumping 24 million gallons of raw sewage a day into the groundwater and streams this past summer," he said.

"I remember something to that effect," I replied. "A huge sewage main burst?"

"Yep. And since the James River, Table Rock and Branson are downhill from there, vacation land was in deep ...."

"Wait a minute," I said. "They had emergency crews all over cleaning up after that accident. And if I know today's society, somebody will be held responsible. A whole bunch of people will sue. Then everyone'll self-righteously hang the victim electronically and in print. In the Bible, they referred to it as using a scapegoat to carry society's guilt. They killed the goat. Today, we opt for humiliation. Purification rites never really change."

"Don't get biblical on me," Woody said. "You're preachy enough. What I'm interested in is outlawing cities."

I just stared. It's always easier to listen to than argue with Woody. Even his wife (poor woman) knows that.

"I'm in. Let's see 'em," I finally said.

"Isn't that what some people want to do with the hog industry?" he asked. "Think about it. Every time there's a lagoon accident, groups come out of the woodwork. Want to ban all large operations. Only, they call them factory farms. As far as I know, a hog lagoon spill around here was estimated at tops 100 gallons of manure a minute."

"Something like that."

"It was," he said and glared. "If you do the math, you get 144,000 gallons a day."

"Maybe," I said, trying hard to do the math and signaling the waitress yet again.

"No maybes about it. Springfield, on the other hand, pumped 25 to 30 million gallons a day," he said. "So why don't people use the hog argument on cities? The stakes are higher."

I sat still, hoping he'd wind down if left alone. I signaled the waitress for the umpteenth time.

"Think about it," he said. "The argument works. All these different groups (and include a handful of print, radio and TV reporters in that category) have a fit about large hog operations. They all claim that if big hog operations are dismantled, we can go back to the hog business of the '70s. You know, more hog farmers, wealthier rural economies."

"What's that got to do with cities?" I asked.

"Think proportion. Every time there's an agriculture accident, these guys claim the environment is ruined, even when there's no trace of damage two months later. But look at a place like Springfield. They churn out more phosphorus than a Florida mine."

"So what's your point?" I asked, now waving both hands at the waitress.

"Shut 'em down," he bellowed. People were starting to turn and stare. "Ban large cities," he fairly screamed. And then more softly, "Think what that'd do for the environment."

He made me laugh out loud. "Think what it'd do for the rural economy," I said, laughing. "I can always count on you to be outrageous, can't I?"

"What's outrageous about it?" he growled before pointing at the waitress who hustled right over.