I never anticipated such nasty language erupting from such a nice lady’s mouth.
Her daughter just moved to the area, and they had come in to see what the cafe was like. As I cleared their plates, she told me about the years she and her husband had run a restaurant. “It was fun,” she told me, “I loved the baking and the cooking.” Then she frowned. “But it was just too hard. We worked 17 hour days.”
I stood still, balancing the plates in my hands, listening to every word.
“But it’s not the same for you, is it?” She pushed her memories aside and joined the present, waving her arms around our tiny dining area. “You just do this on weekends. You do it for a hobby.”
That word. My mouth opens and closes like a fish, trying to formulate a response. “Well, maybe not a ‘hobby,’ exactly,” I begin, remembering the last time those words were used in our establishment. It was back in the fall.
One of our veteran customers of over twenty years, Kathy, looked at the newcomers who dared utter it. “Hobby?” She laughed. “You call this a hobby? Do you see the meat for sale in the freezer? Do you see the eggs? This family grew it all. Do you see the blankets and yarn over there? It’s made from the wool of these people’s sheep. Do you see all those things for sale over in the corner? The salves? The soap? The candles? They made all of it from their animals, from their bee’s honey and wax.” She picked up her bags from the counter, turned to leave, and gave one last shake of her head. “No. Just because a business isn’t open all the time doesn’t mean it’s a hobby.”
I wish I had Kathy with me now to explain all this. Kathy has enough distance from the word to keep a cool head when responding to it. I can’t say the same. Hobby is a word that has plagued me most of my life.
From the time I was five years old, Sap Bush Hollow Farm defined my world: how I thought about food, how I thought about the land, how I thought about neighbors, how I spent my time, how I interacted with my family. But when I left the farm gate, something changed. Sap Bush Hollow was referred to as a “hobby farm.” I heard it referenced that way in school I heard it when I started working. I heard it in college and grad school. It was as though the very definition of my life and world view was not to be taken seriously.
Hobby, to me, suggests the propietors of a business give themselves permission to not try so hard. Maybe they even give themselves permission to fail. And that interpretation, naturally, puts my stomach in knots.
I used to think the word “hobby” was used because my parents had off-farm jobs until they built the business up enough to leave them. But when I did my graduate research on farming in the area, I learned that all the farms that I worked with had at least one source of off-farm income. When I tied that finding with historical research, I realized that farms, by their very nature, were basically the family catch-all for a diversity of income streams: crop sales, livestock sales, egg sales, butter sales, weaving, spinning, day work, custom work, craft work. Hence, if the use of the word “hobby” suggests “outside income,” then all farms in our area, from our first settlements forward,would be “hobby farms.”
Maybe people use the word “hobby” when a business doesn’t conform to convention. Maybe, because our county was rife with dairy farms, Sap Bush Hollow was designated a hobby farm because we produced sheep. Maybe when people see a cafe or a storefront, they assume it should be open every day. So if it doesn’t meet that expectation, well then, it must be a hobby, too Right?
I studder and stammer a response to the woman, trying to draw on Kathy’s example by pointing out all that we produce for the cafe, by explaining that I also homeschool my kids, by mentioning that I also write books. I can tell she doesn’t hear me, that she’s already decided what we are. And I hate what I’m saying anyhow. Because I’m trying to justify the cafe’s limited hours by suggesting I’m just as busy as everyone else. It’s a universal justification for an action: to be working just as hard (or harder) as everyone else. And that’s excactly what I’m trying not to do.
I wish I could be more articulate in these situations. I wish I could slide a cup of Joe over to her, sit down across the table, and say exactly what goes through my mind:
This is not a hobby. What looks like a hobby from the outside is actually a carefully considered plan to help re-write the economic foundation of our country. Working 17 hours a day to keep a restaurant or a farm afloat is not a viable business model. And while plenty people do it, I don’t want to, and I want to create a world where that isn’t necessary. I want to create a world where families can stay together, even if that’s in a rural area where there aren’t many jobs. That family should be able to enjoy each other, and have a great quality of life. That family should be able to create their own livelihood from the careful stewardship of the community’s resources, and in that process, they should not feel overworked or economically stressed. They should be able to spend time playing and enjoying each other’s company. The work should be so joyful, it can hardly be separated from play. It should challenge our minds, make use of our creative energy, and excite us so much that we launch out of bed in the morning to pursue it. But there needs to be rest: time to step away, to change our views, to see the world outside, or to just lay still and listen to the sounds of the seasons. And the current economy, with its time-thievery, disregard for the planet, achievement-fixation and obsession with perpetual growth, needs to fall away. I’m doing my part to dismantle it.
I don’t have these words for her. I don’t think she was ready to hear them anyhow. And maybe, truly, it doesn’t matter. Maybe I can let time tell the story. If we stay in business, stay happy, keep having fun, and keep thrilling in life, the lesson can sink in on its own. Maybe next time I can just smile and say “call it what you like. We’re having a blast and life is good.”
I really like and appreciate that part about “exactly what goes through my mind.” You said it so beautifully in your mind and I love that it’s where your heart is at. It most definitely is making a difference because family is really where the stability and life of a nation begins. Thank you for doing your big small part and sharing it with the world. I most definitely would not call that a hobby – I would call it a life well lived. Blessings!
Sigh….If only what goes through my mind could come out in kind loving words when I need them most! Sometimes that’s why I think I blog — Just so that I can figure out how to configure words that explain the rest of my life!
Amen to that!
Unless people know you’re both the food service proprietor, and food supplier, they’d naturally assume, food service is not your main source of income (ergo: hobby). The presence of such a word, doesn’t automatically mean, not working. It’s just your opening hours reflect, food service it’s not your main gig. I’ve worked in hospitality, and my husband still does. For them to be able to pay him a wage, they have to be open 7 days – breakfast to 5-6 pm. Otherwise they wouldn’t be in business.
They’re just different business models though. I like diversity and respect what you’re doing – being your own supplier. But I can also appreciate, this woman wasn’t giving you a slap down. She saw the weekend hours and deduced food service, wasn’t your main source of income. Which it isn’t. 🙂
It’s a lot of different things, and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just a different business model. Explain you’re the supplier as well as the service provider, and they’ll either think you’re crazy, or win their respect. 😉 Because everyone in hospitality knows, there’s nothing worse than an unreliable supplier. Food doesn’t get served without regular supplies coming in.
Hi Chris; Thanks for giving me some perspective. I’m so unfamiliar with this side of the business, sometimes it feels like culture shock!
The nerve of some people! Maybe you could print out what you just wrote, frame it and post it around the cafe. Along with pictures of everything you and your family do to sustain your “hobby”!
Honestly I think it should be on a bill board all over the state.
If I remember correctly, “hobbies” became popular as a way to give some meaning and pleasure to a life lived in the industrial world. Factory work and clerical work are not intrinsically and philosophically rewarding. There is no visible end product.
I am well aware of the condescending tone of voice associated with the term “hobby farm.” You don’t, after all, have to go to a bank every year to borrow money and justify the existence of your farm.
It seems to me that the best answer is a sweet smile and the pleasant statement, “Oh I don’t need a hobby. I have my life.” And then keep believing it!
Good morning, Shannon! Perhaps that lady was lamenting the lack of pleasure separated from the overabundant work she did to keep her business afloat. She certainly didn’t speak as one who knew you. But if she’s new in town eventually she will. Your blogs are a blessing, and I’m sure a very creative vent of relief for you, which we all can enjoy and learn from. There’s an old saying, if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life! I worked for a few years for a lady who owned a very lovely and delicious cafe. I did her computer graphic work: menus, posters, email promotions, and as I was there changing out menus and table signs, I enjoyed the company of the customers. My friend asked me to serve tables, so I tried it, and it was such a disaster, one could only laugh, but it was agreed by all that I was better off on the computer.
They truly are a creative vent…I can’t proceed with the “on” season without them as a tool for reflection. And the comments, too, become further tools. It’s my thinking and processing spot, with readers to help me along and challenge me!
Good morning, Shannon! Perhaps that lady was lamenting the lack of pleasure separated from the overabundant work she did to keep her business afloat. She certainly didn’t speak as one who knew you. But if she’s new in town eventually she will. Your blogs are a blessing, and I’m sure a very creative vent of relief for you, which we all can enjoy and learn from. There’s an old saying, if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life! I worked for a few years for a lady who owned a very lovely and delicious cafe. I did her computer graphic work: menus, posters, email promotions, and as I was there changing out menus and table signs, I enjoyed the company of the customers. My friend asked me to serve tables, so I tried it, and it was such a disaster, one could only laugh, but it was agreed by all that I was better off on the computer.
Good morning, Shannon! Perhaps that lady was lamenting the lack of pleasure separated from the overabundant work she did to keep her business afloat. She certainly didn’t speak as one who knew you. But if she’s new in town eventually she will. Your blogs are a blessing, and I’m sure a very creative vent of relief for you, which we all can enjoy and learn from. There’s an old saying, if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life! I worked for a few years for a lady who owned a very lovely and delicious cafe. I did her computer graphic work: menus, posters, email promotions, and as I was there changing out menus and table signs, I enjoyed the company of the customers. My friend asked me to serve tables, so I tried it, and it was such a disaster, one could only laugh, but it was agreed by all that I was better off on the computer.
It hurts when we aren’t seen or valued for our contributions. It’s helpful to remember that people’s inability to see our truth and fullness of our being and pursuits is 100% about them and has nothing to do with us. If someone has really bad eyesight and is unable to see the beauty of a flower or really hard of hearing and misses every other word of an elegant recited poem, we would never think it was a reflection of the flower or the poem, and we probably would be shooting arrows from our eyes at the person who wasn’t able to appreciate the wholeness of the thing. So why is it when it is about something dear to us, that we take it personally? It’s not. It’s their own limited capacity; nothing more. I need to remind myself of this *all* the time! I hope this way of looking at it brings some peace to your heart.
Yes so true we are all so human in that same respect, I keep trying to ask myself why get mad or frustrated at someone’s inability, we all have them? Some just worse than others-LOL
Hey! Them her to kiss your you-know-what and to get off her lazy butt and spend just one day with you guys- then maybe she will appreciate just what it means to “do the do” on a family farm. Never mind- that probably wouldn’t really work, but it might make YOU feel better, right? Jeanne, Shei, and I love to visit on Saturdays when we are free because we can relax and enjoy the quiet company of many special folks. You have made that possible Shannon- so just keep on truckin’ kid!
And, if you ever have a free moment, tell me where to find the word “studder” in the dictionary??? 🙂
We love all you do for our world kiddo, and we give thanks every day for your presence.
Ron
Thanks, Editor!! It’s always great to see yous guys!!😏
From my reading of colonial times the aristocrats had hobby farms or they called themselves gentlemen farmers. They were rich enough to just give it up at anytime, as so implied, but really? The land worth. Letting lay fallow? Unthinkable! Of course these gentlemen weren’t touching the land themselves but they knew the value and what labor it took to run them. So logically there is no such thing as a hobby farm.
Definition of hobby: “an activity or interest pursued for pleasure or relaxation and not as a main occupation”. So in your mind and heart you know you are not pursuing a hobby. The emotional hold the word has on you must be let go and not trigger you. It is false thinking or stinkin thinkin.
Your cafe is the narrow end of the funnel. The farm at the wide end with all is resources going into the funnel and ending up at some time or another at the cafe’. Ok we all established that. I’m being redundant.
The woman. I would have been shocked into silence. My brain just listens to ridiculous things coming out of people’s mouths and shuts down to be processed later. Unless it is so bad I start to laugh. Which then I would have to recover and tell her to have a great day. I think that is exactly what would have happened in this case if I was in your place. In my experience, hearing that would tell me she knew nothing and didn’t want to know. There are times to educate and there are times to just let them go.
When my husband and first started both working part-time and homeschooling our kids together, my job was at a coffee shop. Someone I knew saw me there and told me how nice that I could get a break from home by working there. I remember my feeling of fury that because I was a woman working part-time at a coffee shop, to him it was a hobby and not my work. I think it also reflects how little credit our society gives to people who prepare and serve food.
This really struck a nerve with me, Shannon. I was a stay at home mom for all the time I was raising four kids, and now am a stay at home grandma, helping my daughter raise her son as her husband has passed away. The whole time I was raising my children I baked all our bread, rolls, etc., sewed clothes, knit sweaters, etc., spun yarn, wove blankets, rugs, yardage, etc., made soap (especially important as my husband was allergic to the perfumes and additives used in commercial soaps), and did all the other thing necessary in running a responsible household. I cannot tell you how many times I was told I should open a bakery and sell my bread, pastries, etc., because then I could make some money!!, instead of JUST doing it as a “hobby”, for free, for my family. Imagine, trying to quantify and attach dollar signs to what I did for my beloved family! The writings of Wendell Berry have informed the way I have chosen to live my life, and staying home and trying to live in a responsible manner, trying to produce as much of our subsistence as possible, was, and remains, very important to me. But, most people today have no understanding of any of this, and, as a consequence, we are paying the price in all kind of ways.
I enjoy your essays very much, Shannon, and am glad you are back to blogging!
Loved this lots, as always a great writer and passionate, and always trying to keep things in check. Some folks just love what you do so much to them it will always be a hobby, but a grounded person knows the best job or vocation is the one you love the most, so if you can live it out and survive then to others it may always be a hobby but to you it is your reality, perspective is everything, just keep loving what you do, you are educating as you go to very good things. Keep the faith, bless you and yours and Godspeed!
Farming and the arts have this in common —- people who don’t fit into a narrow cartoonish standard are derided as “dabblers” or “hobbyists” or worse. The right to call oneself a farmer or a writer or an artist are also called into question. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe this happens to those who work in other fields, but I’ve never heard casual questions from strangers meant to evaluate if another person has really, truly, earned the right to be considered an insurance agent or store manager the way that farmers and artists get on a regular basis.
Interesting line of thinking, Laura…I wonder if our choice to self-define sidelines us in people’s minds, because we’ve not been awarded our title by an external authority figure??? That said, I also can’t help but wonder if we get defensive because we sideline ourselves for the same reason: no one has awarded us with a certificate of title. We have to claim these things ourselves. And when we are feeling doubtful (which is inevitable), we become more sensitive and defensive???