Pure Mavens

So it’s early summer which, for a lot of people, means getting the yard back in shape. I’m no maniac, but I take care of my modest parcel with a certain degree of pride. With two kids and two dogs, my grass takes a beating. So I generally spend April through June engaging in my hybrid form of urban agriculture whereby I transform a veritable dirt patch back into some semblance of a lawn. Generally through half-hearted hose work and a healthy portion of cursing. And lots of hands-on-hip inspection. Oh, and sunscreen.

And what’s the first piece of advice the paternal elders in every family will give when it comes to domestic agriculture?

“Fertilize,” they told me.

Isn't that kind of the point of a lawn?

So fertilize I have. And while I suppose it works, it’s another chemical I’m literally spreading in my immediate environment. And having my family play on. And as I walk through my neighborhood, I notice my neighbors who have upped the ante with a professional service. Those little black sticks with the picture of kids and pets crossed-out underscore my anxiety about this suburban napalm.

Woody Tasch’s recent book, Slow Money, confirmed my concerns. He points out the degenerative effects of industrial farming and chemical fertilization over time. The statistics are sobering. A couple that caught my attention:
•    “Global pesticide use has increased more than 50-fold since 1950, and most of today’s pesticides are more than 10 times as toxic as those used 1950’s. Less than 1 percent of these pesticides reaches its target pests.”
•    “Global application of nitrogen fertilizer has increased 8-fold since 1960, to more than 80-million metric tons.”

A pretty good summary of the book is at http://blog.eatwellguide.org/2009/06/slow-money-cultivating-a-culture-of-peace-and-prosperity/

As all of this was occurring, I revisited my lawn reforestation initiative. I had my bag of grass seed, ready to patch up the bare spots. My best yard helper, my 2-year-old boy, was at the ready to lend a hand. So we went to spreading the seeds – just by hand – and I thought nothing of giving Mac a pail full to spread himself. I looked up at him as we spread the seeds – his little hands were turquoise blue. And he had some of the color around his mouth. Panic shot through me. I grabbed the bag and the warning advised the user to wear waterproof gloves, long sleeves, keep away from eyes and face, and essentially avoid all human contact with these… seeds.

We rushed to the shower, and then called the 800-number provided beneath the tiny warning on the bag – literally filled with dread that I had exposed Mac to something really toxic. Apparently that particular seed is only “treated with a very small amount of dyed fungicide,” so I needn’t worry.

But the fact remains that my experience was, basically, really messed up. Planting something as seemingly natural as grass seeds led to an encounter with a harmful chemical. And I had inadvertently exposed my baby to it. So in my quest to make the world a purer place, it appears my lawn is another frontier. I’m sure someday soon Lowe’s will sell “all-natural grass seeds” at a 20% price premium. Talk about messed up…

Hello – my name is Hunter, and I’m a junkie. My juice of choice is sunscreen. Like many, I dabbled at first in my teen years. Rubbing it on just because “everyone was doing it” – urged by my friends. It went on harmlessly enough. Then, one relatively mild sunburn a few years back, and I became obsessed. And not just some cut-with-lotion recreational balm. I was on the hard stuff. 45 SPF and up. Sweatproof, waterproof, non-stinging, spray-on, rub-on, comfort grip bottles… you name it. I knew where to score the high grade, PABA free for the best price.

I started hiding it from the people in my life. Putting it on in private before joining everyone at the pool. “Running to my car for a minute” for a quick re-app. Then, one day, I found myself using alone. It got so bad I needed a hit of 15 SPF just to get my day started…

Finally my family tried to intervene. “It’s too much,” they said. “Just cut back a little and see how it feels,” they urged. “If for nothing else, you’re going broke on Coppertone,” they pleaded. Nothing worked. I only retreated further into the bottle. Or tube. An ugly, greasy addiction.

But unlike most addicts, I never had a dramatic wake-up call. Rather, one day as I lathered up for the umpteenth time with that intoxicating cocoa-scented elixir, I pondered “This has got to have chemicals in it. What’s the downside of all this ‘protection’?” I shrugged it off, and lathered on.

Then my son was born. And I faced the sobering choice of either getting smart, or raising my boy to follow in my pasty footsteps. So I made a half-hearted attempt at self-help by googling “chemicals in sunscreen.”

And that was the beginning of my new obsession: seeking products that are pure for myself and my family. But that’s no easy task. There’s a ton of information – and misinformation – out there. And, while I’m keen on living a healthier lifestyle, I have a career and family, too. So the hours of confusing research to sort out the pure from the Pewr (TM) is a handful.

I could’ve just waited for the next media-driven craze, but I decided this needed to stick. So my friend Matt and I proclaimed ourselves PureMavens and began educating ourselves and taking on the pursuit of making the world a purer place.