Hot, kick-in, chewy, meaty -- Americans have fallen in love with the 'meat stick'

Roughly 41 million U.S. households buy meat sticks
each year. (Adobe Stock photo)

Lunch pails, glove compartments, purses and toolboxes are favorite places for Americans to stash their new favorite snack: The meat stick.

The tasty lengths of protein have "come a long way since the original Slim Jim," reports Jennifer Williams of The Wall Street Journal. The snack has grown into a $3 billion business that has spiked fan controversy over its ever-growing smorgasbord of spiciness and flavors.

Among old and new meat stick lovers, "the flood of flavors and high-end options that has come with the snack’s rising popularity has divided fans," Williams writes. "Traditionalists, who prize the snack for its smoky simplicity, have a beef with the onslaught of choice. Other fans are being lured to a new breed of packaged offerings. . . Some won’t touch anything that didn’t come from a butcher — and please, whatever you do, don’t call it a meat stick."

Meat sticks are the go-to snack of choice for common and famous Americans. "Roughly 41 million households buy meat sticks annually," Williams explains. "Actress Jennifer Lawrence took Slim Jims — hot and mild — to the Oscars in 2014, an emergency nibble for the hourslong ceremony."

Slim Jim maker Conagra Brands purchased Fatty meat snack brands to create what "their executives call the 'trifecta smokehouse,'" Williams reports. "The acquisition beefed up a portfolio that already boasted the Slim Jim and Duke’s brands." Ashley Spade, vice president of Conagra's snacks, described meat stick sales as "explosive."

Meat stick choices include "jalapeño, taco-seasoned, teriyaki and dill pickle. Meat options range from beef to turkey, chicken and lamb," Williams reports. 

Some fans feed their meat stick needs with a trip to the local gas station, but others up the ante. "Sarah Steele goes to her local butcher. . . . Steele prefers her meat sticks to have a kick. And high-quality meat is a must." She told Williams, "I’m a meat snob, what can I say? But I don’t judge — if you enjoy it, eat it.”

Opinion: Growing up in Appalachia made navigating college tough. 'I felt compelled to abandon my background.'

Piper Slinka-Petka

An Appalachian student from West Virginia heads off to college at the University of Pennsylvania, dubbed "Penn" by most students, and encounters a community where she doesn't know how or when she will ever fit in and keep up with her urban counterparts. A lightly edited version of Piper Slinka-Petka's story from The Daily Pennsylvanian is shared below.

"During the same conversation, all first-year students find themselves in, state follows directly after name. Penn’s student body, while diverse, leaves many geographical regions underrepresented in their class. . . . When I reveal I am from West Virginia, home to Penn students few and far between, I get one of a few responses:

I haven’t heard that one yet. Are you the only one? (No, I am not.)

Like from the song? (Yes, the very state described by John Denver’s 1971 song, “Take Me Home, Country Roads.”)

I have family from Virginia, same thing, right? (Two different states, separated in 1863.)

"Growing up in Appalachia is an identity I spent my adolescence running away from. Portrayal in the media, such as by vice presidential candidate JD Vance’s "Hillbilly Elegy," paints Appalachia as a place for the uneducated, poverty-stricken, and lazy. The misinterpretation of rural America creates a narrative that all people inside of it are 'white, conservative, and dumb.' In conversations with other Penn students, I would explain my rural upbringing, and end with 'but at least I made it out.' I felt compelled to abandon my background to find my new place at Penn.

"It wasn’t the light pollution, lack of nature, or noise that made Penn so different — it was the culture. I found myself struggling to find an anchor with my urban peers. . . . I was always a step behind. My differences were possibly the most apparent at the dining hall. I grew up on simple, hearty foods like pepperoni rolls and baked mac & cheese — nothing like the diverse and unique food options my peers raved about. Penn’s food options felt like an entirely new language.

"The education I received, too, lacked greatly in comparison to my peers. In 2024, West Virginia was ranked the worst state for education. Approximately only 20% of West Virginians over 25 have a bachelor's degree or higher. While I’d been admitted to Penn, I was still the product of a struggling academic system. Even though I already knew my education put me at a disadvantage, I underestimated how much I would feel out of place at Penn. . . . Perhaps even more than educationally, I was lacking socially.

"Coming from a geographically underrepresented area meant I was at a disadvantage in navigating Penn. While my classmates seemed to effortlessly adjust to this new world, I felt lost grappling with new social dynamics, cuisine, and academics. The culture shock was not just locational; it was a reminder of how deeply our backgrounds influence our future. Although I felt the need to abandon my old life for Penn’s new offerings, I couldn't just put West Virginia behind me. I would have to actively work to bridge the gap between my unique upbringing and my new life at Penn. . ."

In a surprising move, giant publisher Penguin Random House is actively fighting book bans

A wall of banned Penguin Random House books.
(Photo by Nate Langston Palmer, WSJ)

When it comes to fighting book bans, book publishers have hugged the sidelines and quietly funded industry groups that champion First Amendment rights. But for one publishing giant, stepping into the book boxing ring has meant standing up for free speech and its authors, reports Jeffrey A. Trachtenberg of The Wall Street Journal. Penguin Random House "now fully embraces the fight against book bans, entering a sensitive debate that is playing out in school boards and statehouses across the country. At risk: potentially alienating a large chunk of customers on an issue at the crux of culture wars that have polarized the nation in ways not seen in decades."

Those who push for book bans often "believe they are targeting titles that are pornographic or otherwise inappropriate for young people," Trachtenberg writes. "The publisher's stance is that teachers, librarians and school administrators, as expert educators, already make decisions about what is appropriate for young readers, and should be left to do their jobs. . . . Despite the risks, Penguin Random House's leadership said that failing to act had moral and financial costs."

To that end, Penguin Random House has used its media might to resist bans, educate consumers and share "censored" content. "Penguin Random House has started hosting anti-book-banning events, giving away several thousand copies of its most-frequently banned titles," Trachtenberg reports. "School boards and school districts removed more than 1,500 book titles from an assortment of publishers from public school classrooms and libraries in the 12 months through June 2023, according to a recent study by PEN America, a literary and free-speech organization that has been vocal in opposing bans."

Trachtenberg reports, "When Dan Novack, Penguin Random House's associate general counsel, learned the law firm Ballard Spahr was working on a book-banning lawsuit against Escambia County School District in Florida with PEN America, he called an attorney there and asked, 'Can we get in? . . . In an early victory, a federal judge ruled the plaintiffs in the Florida case can pursue their lawsuit on First Amendment grounds."

Taking a hard line against book bans has opened Penguin Random House to deeper probes by media and well-funded book ban advocates. Despite the added scrutiny, the company's leadership feels their position supports educators. Penguin Random House CEO Nihar Malaviya told Trachtenberg: "There is always the potential for people to misinterpret our actions. We aren't pushing anything on anyone. We're supporting the experts who make decisions about books."

L.A. bans rodeos, becoming the latest city to limit or prohibit the shows; rodeo supporters call it an attack on their culture

Supporters of rodeos rally outside Los Angeles City Hall.
(Photo by Irfan Khan, Los Angeles Times)

Despite the role of rodeos in much of California's rural Western culture, certain show practices paired with documented animal injuries led the city of Los Angeles to ban rodeos, report Susanne Rust and Dakota Smith of the L.A. Times. "The Los Angeles City Council voted unanimously to ban rodeos in the city despite opposition by some in L.A.'s Latino equestrian community, who painted the crackdown as an attack on their culture. . . . Councilmember Bob Blumenfield led the council in passing the ban, describing in graphic detail the broken bones and pain endured by rodeo animals."

The ban carved out exceptions intended to "assuage concerns that the ban would prevent cultural events such as charrería, which is popular in Mexico, as well as the Bill Pickett Rodeo, a national event for Black riders scheduled for February in the City of Industry," Rust and Smith write. "More than 100 people signed up to speak in council chambers before the vote, many wearing cowboy hats and boots."

L.A. is one of many cities that have taken a deeper look at rodeo shows. "Other jurisdictions throughout the state and nation have put limits on or banned rodeos, including San Francisco, San Juan Capistrano and Pasadena, as well as Pittsburgh, Penn.; Baltimore County, Md.; Leesburg, Va.; and Fort Wayne, Ind.," the L.A. Times reports. "In response to concerns that a ban would be akin to an attack on Latino culture, Blumenfield said, 'This is not about culture. This is about animal cruelty. There are Black rodeos. There are Latino rodeos. There are gay rodeos. . . nobody is trying to go after a culture. We're saying that animal cruelty is something that we, in 2023, should not be supporting,' he said."

"Longtime equestrian Geronimo Bugarin said there are nine elements of charrería, including bull riding, mare riding and calf roping, and appeared dismayed at the prospect of not being able to continue those activities," Rust and Smith add. He said: "If we lose one of our key elements of charrería, it's like you don't have a charrería."

The next chapter of Appalachia's story continues, and is being recorded, as Appalshop recovers its history bit by bit

A gathering at Appalshop’s building a year after the flood
(Photos by Jon Cherry, The New York Times)

Submerged in water, then mud, and finally baked in humidity, a storehouse of Appalachian history seemed lost following last July's devastating floods in Eastern Kentucky. But the region's story is resurfacing piece by piece at Appalshop, "one of the biggest repositories of Appalachian history and culture," in Whitesburg, reports Remy Tumin of The New York Times. "Now, a year after record floods tore through southeastern Kentucky, killing more than three dozen people and displacing hundreds more whose homes were washed away, Appalshop and its community are still writing the next chapter of its 54-year history."

Appalshop began as a War on Poverty film workshop in 1969, but branched into a storehouse "celebrating Appalachian culture through theater, music, photography and literary programs," Tumin writes. "The organization has managed to recover more than 13,500 archival items since the flood. . . . Most of Appalshop’s audio and visual materials have been recovered, including rare recordings of musical performances and interviews with Appalachian activists; a 1970s interview with an Eastern Band of Cherokee leaders; and recordings, images and film footage of Black leaders from across the region." But the building may need to be replaced. "It is likely to cost upward of $5 million to restore or rebuild. The flood eviscerated the ground floor, which housed its theater, radio station, gallery space and climate-controlled vault, where photo negatives and other archival materials were stored."

Community members gathered at "All is Not Lost" premiere.

"Appalshop has converted an R.V. into a new mobile studio for its radio station, giving its staff members the flexibility to be at the scene of emergencies like the one they weathered last July," Tumin reports.  "Appalshop just wrapped its annual summer documentary institute and held a community gathering to commemorate the anniversary of the flood, including the premiere of a new documentary about the devastation, 'All Is Not Lost.'"

Executive Diretcor Alex Gibson said the lifesaver was Iron Mountain's donation of storage and services. "It largely allows us time to recover and think about how we can afford full restoration," he said, noting that staff members have spent months seeking grants and other funding. "As it has documented and celebrated Appalachian culture, Appalshop also has countered narratives of what it means to be from Appalachia, Gibson said. Still, the flood highlighted the economic inequality in the region, he said," as well as the effects of trauma on poor people.

With its WMMT-FM radio station and website, Appalshop has a wide reach, "but its roots in Appalachia provide a signal for people far from home," Tumin reports. Téa Wimer, the station's manager, told her: "It serves a very specific purpose that nothing else in the world can really serve, and that's feeling connected to people and tradition, and hearing people that sound like you on the radio. . . . Those things are really special and important because listeners don't get to hear it anywhere else."

Fauna and flora quick clicks: Meet the 'inflation chicken' and the fast-spreading nine-banded armadillo

A chicken breeding farm in Missouri.
(Photo by Neeta Satam, The New York Times)

Exhausted by the search for affordable eggs, some Americans have decided raising their own chickens is a more productive pursuit. Dubbed the 'inflation chicken,' we can learn how much it costs to raise an egg-laying chicken and what egg prices say about our economy.

This is chicken that isn't exactly chicken. It's lab-grown from cultured chicken cells. The Food and Drug Administration gave its first approval to a slaughter-free company, Upside Foods. The product is known as "cultivated meat," or by other names, as it evolves.

Pigs, swine, hogs, boars. Wild, feral, invasive, non-native. Whatever words you use, these tusked omnivores are destroying crops and preying on endangered species. But the most serious threat they pose is to humans.

The nine-banded armadillo is expanding northward.
(Photo by Jay Butifiloski)

Attracted by the promise of a temperate and warming climate, vast tracts of diggable land, room to expand, and a nearly endless supply of fire ants − armadillos are moving into states like North Carolina.

Slated to be completed in 2025, some might enjoy viewing progress at the US 101 freeway wildlife crossing near Agoura Hill, Calif.  The overpass will connect the Santa Monica Mountains to the Simi Hills over 10 lanes of highway and will allow the animals to mix with other, unrelated mountain lions. When completed, the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing will be the largest in the world.

More ways to make way for wildlife: As spring migration begins it bears repeating that more than 600,000 miles of fences criss-cross the American West, blocking animal migration. Outside Yellowstone National Park, volunteers dismantled a few. 

Are you kidding? What the best cheese from 2022? Goat's cheese from Port Washington, Wisconsin, pop. 13,000. Founded in 2020, Blakesville Creamery makes all its cheeses from its herd of 900 goats, comprised largely of Saanens.

It's not too late for a Zoom training on winter blooms. Feb. 14: A Valentine's Day webinar will covers all aspects of cut-flower production.

Another clash in the culture wars: L.A. may buck rodeos

Bull riding and rodeos have long been considered part of California's rural Western culture, but some rodeos and rodeo practices like “wild cow milking” and mutton busting” are under review by the legislature, reports Susanne Rust of the Los Angeles Times: "There is a growing movement to ban — or seriously curtail — these kinds of performances. And lawmakers are stepping into the fray, exposing one more hot-button issue that is seemingly emblematic of the nation’s growing cultural discord."

The Los Angeles City Council "is poised to vote on legislation that would curtail, if not eliminate, rodeo events within the city," writes Rust. "Instead of banning particular events, the legislation seeks to ban certain devices used on rodeo animals — spurs, flank straps and electric prods — that can cause pain or injury."

"Mutton busting" in Maryland (Photo by Dylan Slagle, Carroll County Times)

Rodeo supporters see rodeos as an embodiment of Western living. "A good rodeo performance highlights the skill, bravery and strength of a talented cowboy or cowgirl — a rider deft with a lasso, in control of wild, bucking animals, and laser-focused on a chaotic, seemingly uncontrollable task at hand," Rust writes. And they see the proposed ordinance as "just one more example of California’s radical progressivism — a state so out of touch with mainstream America that it’s turning its back on a tradition as hallowed as apple pie."

Other Californians feel rodeos are inhumane. "They see it as a horror show in which terrified animals are chased around an arena, kicked by strangers, tossed onto the ground with potentially bone-crushing impact — all while loud music is blared and dozens, if not hundreds, of people yell, scream and clap from the nearby stands," Rust writes. Animal-welfare activists want to set legal foundations that limit harm or injury to rodeo animals. Matt Rossell, campaigns manager for the Animal Legal Defense Fund, told Rust, “Rodeos are nothing other than legalized animal cruelty.” 

Sean Gleason, chief executive and commissioner of Professional Bull Riders, told Rust, "If animal-rights activists were successful in shutting down bull riding — through this argument that there’s some kind of torture that doesn’t exist — I assure you these animals have zero purpose and they’d be turned into hamburger within a week. Because nobody is going to keep them around to stand around on the farm and live a natural life."

Arts residencies can have an outsized impact on rural economies and culture; some national parks have them too

"Across the country, hotels, resorts, and even national parks, are offering residencies for artists to help draw in inspiration. Along the way, these rural communities are feeling the effects – both culturally and economically – of new life coming into the community and energizing and offering a new perspective from people who may not otherwise have had the chance to meet locals," Kristi Eaton reports for The Daily Yonder. "Call it rural arts tourism, and it’s catching on across the country."

Rural artist residencies can benefit both artists and communities for little cost. In Maupin, Oregon, for example, the owners of a local cabin resort offer artists free lodging and quiet time to work. In exchange, owners Michelle Taylor and Andy McFarlane ask them to contribute a work from their time at the cabins to add to its permanent collection, Eaton reports.

Taylor said they've gotten plenty of applicants since they launched the program this year, and that it had brought a lot of excitement and optimism to the community of about 450. Tourists, too. "You have folks coming in in droves from places like Portland and Tacoma, and places, far and wide, to see artists and be a part of something," McFarlane told Eaton. That boosts the local economy since they're eating at local restaurants and staying in local hotels.

Local governments aren't the only ones who recognize the benefits of bringing in artists; the National Park Service also has artist-in-residence programs at many of its national parks. "Depending on the location, residencies are open to writers, photographers, composers and other arts-based workers," Eaton reports.

Family behind Columbia Sportswear expands philanthropic efforts to help rural and tribal communities in Oregon

Columbia Sportswear, based in Portland, Oregon, is a $5.5 billion outdoor-clothing juggernaut, and the family that owns it is passionate about philanthropy. The extended family's Roundhouse Foundation, launched in 2002, initially focused on supporting arts projects with grants, but in the past few years has become more involved in creative problem-solving in the state's rural and tribal communities, Ade Adeniji reports for Inside Philanthropy.

When Gert Boyle, the daughter and heir of founder Paul Lamfrom, passed away in 2019, she left a large sum to the foundation that her daughter Kathy Deggendorfer says triggered "an explosion of growth," Adeniji reports. Deggendorfer, husband Frank and daughter Erin Borla now run the foundation; they sat down with Adeniji to talk about "how Gert envisioned the family’s philanthropy, how grantmaking has grown to tackle creative placemaking in underfunded rural communities, and now, on the heels of a huge bequest, where the family plans on taking their philanthropy next." 

Wikipedia locator map, adapted

The family began thinking about ways to support rural economies in the early 2000s. It was only natural, since they live in Sisters, a community of about 2,600 near Bend in central Oregon. And it's more important than ever, since 14% of Americans are rural, but only about 7% of all grants go to rural areas. When Deggendorfer received a portion of her inheritance, she decided to formalize her support by creating the Roundhouse Foundation. At first she was distributing about $12,000 in grants each year and working from her home office, but the foundation continued growing. "Just a few years ago, Roundhouse Foundation was giving away six figures annually and held around $22.5 million in assets (fiscal year 2018)," Adeniji reports. "Two years later, the foundation held nearly $142 million in assets and gave away more than $1 million. And in 2021, the foundation granted around $11 million." These days the foundation has 17 staffers and trustees.

One of them is Deggendorfer's daughter. Borla worked for local non-profits and events after college and joined the foundation's board of trustees in 2014. "I came back from school and knew I wanted to live in this rural space and work in economic development and creative space," Borla told Adeniji. She advocated for using public-school libraries as mental-health spaces for students.

The foundation now "focuses its work on four areas that it believes are fundamental to thriving rural communities — arts and culture, environmental stewardship, social services, and education," Adeniji reports. "Creative placemaking, a popular concept in the philanthrosphere these days, is central to the foundation’s work. Its flagship program, Pine Meadow Ranch Center for Arts and Agriculture, is an artist residency on a 260-acre working ranch, which also engages in agricultural and ecological projects. Roundhouse purchased and retooled the property in 2017, driven by [Deggendorfer's] vision." Some of those projects include regenerative agriculture and the development and conservation of watersheds.

Until 2019, the foundation focused mainly on communities in the Deschutes River Basin in Central Oregon, but the recent flood of new funds allowed its focus to expand to rural areas across the state. "This led to a deluge of calls. But it also forced Roundhouse to get out on the road and grow relationships in every corner of the state," Adeniji reports. "While 'trust-based philanthropy' is a buzzword these days, [Borla] describes part of that trust as simply showing up, meeting people in their own communities and trying to foster an authentic connection. Sometimes these conversations don’t even result in Roundhouse Foundation giving a grant. But rather, the foundation serves as a catalyst, where a vital connection allows an organization to move forward with a project without direct funds from Roundhouse."

Rural arts scenes can boost economies and more; annually published index shows how your local area ranks

SMU DataArts' Arts Vibrancy Index, published in Sept. 2020; click the image to enlarge it.

The pandemic has hurt the arts in most communities, but many rural towns have vibrant arts and culture scenes. Done right, they can deliver a wealth of benefits to their communities, says the director of a New Hampshire nonprofit who led the arts and culture track at the Radically Rural summit in September.

Jessica Gelter, executive director of Arts Alive!, spoke with Caroline Tremblay of The Daily Yonder about how rural arts and culture scenes can best serve their communities. It's important to make sure artists are leading the way, and that even the poor can access the arts, she said. And she believes right now is a good time to reassess as public events get back on track.

How is your community's arts scene? One way to measure is Southern Methodist University's annual Arts Vibrancy Index, which weighs a number of factors to assign a score to counties. Below are the 10 small communities with the best arts and culture scenes; the report has detailed information about what makes each successful. All are micropolitan statistical areas whose principle city has a population of 10,000 to 50,000:

1. Jackson, Wyoming
2. Steamboat Springs, Colorado
3. Heber, Utah
4. Hailey, Idaho
5. Glenwood Springs, Colorado
6. Vineyard Haven, Massachusetts
7. Oneonta, New York
8. Hudson, New York
9. Bennington, Vermont
10. Hood River, Oregon

Covid roundup: Johnson & Johnson vaccine pause hurts rural areas; suicides have fallen sharply during pandemic

Here's a roundup of recent news about the pandemic and vaccination efforts:

The pause on the single-dose Johnson & Johnson coronavirus vaccine is making it harder for many rural residents to get vaccinated, especially those who have transportation issues and can't reliably make it out for a second shot. Read more here.

Four things to know about the Johnson & Johnson vaccine pause. Read more here.

A native Cherokee speaker says she was wary of coronavirus vaccines, but now says it's important because to protect elders with irreplaceable knowledge of the language and culture. Read more here.

One in three Covid-19 survivors in a study of more than 230,000 mostly American patients were diagnosed with a brain or psychiatric disorder within six months. The researchers say that suggests the pandemic could lead to a wave of mental and neurological problems. Read more here.

Public-health directors want more resources to vaccinate rural communities. Read more here.

Suicides fell nearly 6 percent during the pandemic, the sharpest drop in four decades. Read more here.

Covid-19 has disproportionately hurt Black communities—especially rural ones—but many Black Americans mistrust the vaccine. This article explores why. Read more here.

Native health providers drive Alaska's vaccination success story. Read more here.

A study has found that the B.1.1.7. coronavirus variant, first identified in England and now the most common strain in the U.S., isn't linked to more severe Covid-19 cases or higher death rates than other strains. Read more here.

Three years later, project to bridge political divide between residents in rural Massachusetts and Eastern Ky. still going

Thanks to modern technology, the pandemic hasn't stopped a cross-cultural effort meant to bridge the political divide between two rural communities, one liberal and one conservative.

Three years ago, a handful of rural residents from communities in Kentucky and Massachusetts began meeting to see if they could find common ground. Hands Across the Hills was established just after the 2016 election when liberal residents of Leverett, Mass., reached out to residents of Whitesburg, Ky., because they wanted to better understand not just why people voted for Trump, but Appalachian culture overall. 

The initiative started out with in-person visits with home stays, local field trips, and lots of sharing and listening, and has continued via Zoom meetings and phone calls throughout the pandemic, according to CBS News, which has a video update of the project (above).

Paula Green, a Leverett resident who has led similar cross-cultural efforts for decades in war-torn areas like Bosnia and Rwanda, leads the project along with her Whitesburg counterpart Gwen Johnson. In a recent column, Green cautioned that initiatives like Hands Across the Hills are illuminating but not a large-scale solution: "Dialogue groups help but are too small to balance out the political rewards of those who stoke hatred for their own gain. When I consider where we are as a country today, it seems clear that my conservative correspondent, our friends in Kentucky, and millions of others are telling us that our country needs an overhaul. Too many people are hurting, and the solution is not just interpersonal, as important as that is. What is needed is a new vision for our economic, political, and social policies, all of which are on life support. Until we get these structures right, blaming and demonizing each other provides too easy a reach, an outlet for our frustration."

Pandemic is killing tribal elders, leaving cultural gaps

Pallbearers carry the casket of Jesse Taken Alive, a Lakota elder of the Standing Rock Tribe
in South Dakota, who died of Covid-19 in December. (New York Times photo by Victor Blue)

As the coronavirus pandemic tears through Native American communities, tribal elders are being killed off, "inflicting an incalculable toll on bonds of language and tradition that flow from older generations to the young," Jack Healy reports for The New York Times. "The loss of tribal elders has swelled into a cultural crisis as the pandemic has killed American Indians and Alaska Natives at nearly twice the rate of white people, deepening what critics call the deadly toll of a tattered health system and generations of harm and broken promises by the U.S. government."

"It’s like we’re having a cultural book-burning," Jason Salsman, a spokesman for the Muscogee (Creek) Nation in eastern Oklahoma, told Healy. "We’re losing a historical record, encyclopedias. One day soon, there won’t be anybody to pass this knowledge down."

Tribes across the nation are putting elders and fluent indigenous-language speakers first in line to get coronavirus vaccinations, but there are often obstacles to receiving it. "Elders who live in remote locations often have no means to get to the clinics and hospitals where vaccinations are administered," Healy reports. "And there is deep mistrust of the government in a generation that was subjected without consent to medical testing, shipped off to boarding schools and punished for speaking their own language in a decades-long campaign of forced assimilation."

Activists say there still isn't a reliable death toll of Native elders. "They say their deaths are overlooked or miscounted, especially off reservations and in urban areas, where some 70 percent of Indigenous people live," Healy reports. "Adding to the problem, tribal health officials say their sickest members can essentially vanish once they are transferred out of small reservation health systems to larger hospitals with intensive-care units."

Arts industry can boost rural economies, but industry advocates say artists need more stimulus funding

As Congress mulls a new economic stimulus package, arts industry leaders say creative professionals need more funding. During the pandemic, "nearly 3 million jobs in creative industries are projected to have been lost, representing more than a third of all creative-industry jobs in the United States, according to a Brookings Institution analysis this summer of the coronavirus impact on the creative economy," Andrea Noble reports for Route Fifty. "About $150 billion in sales of goods and services from creative industries is estimated to have been lost as well."

That matters in rural America because arts and cultural organizations can boost local economies, make towns more attractive to tourists and prospective businesses and residents, and increase civic pride among residents. "Artists turn around economies and rural and distressed communities. They stimulate jobs in other sectors that depend on a vibrant arts economy," Kelly Barsdate, chief program and planning officer for the National Assembly of State Arts Agencies, told Noble.

Some state and local governments have earmarked direct financial aid for artists, but "going forward there may be less public grant funding available for artists as state and local governments coping with tax revenue declines end up slashing their budgets," Noble reports.

Arts leaders say federal support for the creative economy has been lacking. "It’s not just about the arts wanting special treatment," Barsdate told Noble. "Across the board, the arts have lost four times more jobs and revenue than other industries."

Covid-19 art contest at N.C. community paper went global

Grand prize winner "Free Masks Take One" by Lani Chaves of Pittsboro

A North Carolina community newspaper recently held an art contest that invited readers to submit original art about life during the coronavirus pandemic. But the Chatham News + Record soon began receiving entries from all over the globe, bringing the world "a little bit closer" at a time when the need for cross-cultural understanding and cooperation is ever more important.

The contest was "designed to find the iconic image to define the era of covid-19," writes University of Kentucky associate journalism professor Buck Ryan, who helped launch the contest. Ryan, the director of a civic-engagement project, is doing a case study of the News + Record, which he views as a model of success for community newspapers here and abroad.

Duke University visiting scholar Siqi Zhang, president of the North Carolina Chinese Scholars Sino-US Exchange Association, helped promote the contest in China and elsewhere. Entries in the categories of Food, Heroes, and Love came from as far away as Russia, China and Bangladesh, all depicting what life looked like for people during the pandemic. Click here to see the winning entries.

Can the arts help save rural America from the recession?

"Far from major population centers or cutting-edge cultural trends, galleries, museums and craft breweries have collectively brought life — and cash — back to rural communities devastated in the aftermath of the 2008 Great Recession and by longer-term decline," Stephen Starr writes for Ozy. "Now, these communities are counting on art to keep their economies going amid the crisis spawned by the coronavirus pandemic."

The arts can help improve the local economy, according to a 2019 National Governors Association study. About half of rural counties have seen population declines since 2000, but experts are predicting that more people will move from cities to smaller towns because of the increasing cost of living in urban areas and the possibility of working from home. Active arts and culture scenes could help attract former city dwellers, Starr reports.

Many rural arts programs have received pandemic funds. The National Endowment for the Arts, an independent federal agency, "has announced $75 million in relief funds to arts organizations. State governments, commissions and universities are also pumping millions of dollars into small-scale rural arts ventures," Starr reports. "Such initiatives are paying dividends. In 2015, arts and cultural initiatives contributed $67.5 billion to states where at least 30 percent of the population live in rural areas. According to the Rural Establishment Innovation Survey, residents in rural counties that are home to performing arts organizations earn up to $6,000 more than people who live in rural counties without such platforms."

Quick hits: How Biden and Sanders did in rural areas on Super Tuesday; busted oil town turns to arts and culture

Here's a roundup of stories with rural resonance; if you do or see similar work that should be shared on The Rural Blog, email us at heather.chapman@uky.edu.

Kraft Foods Group Inc. and Mondelez Global LLC may pay $16 million to settle regulatory allegations that they manipulated the market for wheat futures. Read more here.

Sen. Bernie Sanders got much less of the rural vote on Tuesday than he did in 2016, while Joe Biden received outsized support from rural areas, The Daily Yonder reports. Read more here.

A webinar discussed challenges rural school districts face in helping students access high-speed internet. Read more or listen to the recording here.

A busted oil-boom town in Arkansas is making a comeback by leaning on art and culture. Read more here.

The 2020 Young Farmers and Ranchers Conference has been canceled because of the coronavirus. Read more here.

Stringed-instrument school in southeastern Kentucky helps give recovering opioid addicts a sense of purpose

Doug Naselroad works on a dulcimer.
(Photo from Appalachian School of Luthiery)

"With the opioid epidemic spreading across the country, programs are coming up with unique ways to help recovering addicts. One program in Kentucky is using Appalachian music and culture to heal," Tomas Hoppough reports for Scripps Media.

Every week at the Appalachian School of Luthiery in Hindman, Doug Naselroad teaches students of all ages how to make traditional stringed instruments like banjos, mountain dulcimers, guitars and more. Some of those students come from a nearby drug rehabilitation center.

Naselroad believes that teaching a hands-on craft like luthiery can give people a purpose and help subvert the despair that often leads to opioid abuse. Opioid abuse "has to do with filling your hands with the wrong thing because the right thing hasn’t come along yet for you to do," he told Hoppough. "We offer these individuals a way to focus on something other than their drug problem."

Hindman, in Knott County. (Wikipedia map)

Recovering opioid addict Jeremy Henne agrees. He told Hoppough that he became addicted after a doctor prescribed him opioids for back pain. Learning luthiery "really gave me a sense of direction, a sense of purpose," he said.

Naselroad said he also hopes that learning luthiery will help recovering addicts to appreciate traditional local culture more and inspire a sense of pride in being Appalachian. "There’s a lot that’s precious and excellent about Appalachian culture and we need people to understand that’s what we’re working toward," he told Hoppough.

Old-style Catholics' migration to Kansas town an example of 'cultural secession' that has implications for societal diversity

Students at the local Catholic school sing with Father
Paul-Isaac Franks (Atlantic photo by Bryan Schutmaat)

We've written more than once about how a person's political views can influence where they move, but a small Kansas town dominated by old-school Roman Catholics is an extreme example of the desire to live among like-minded people, Emma Green reports for The Atlantic.

In St. Mary's, Kansas, a town of about 4,000, the vast majority of people are Catholic. That's not an accident: In the 1960s, many Catholics objected to the liturgical changes made by the Second Vatican Council and sought to practice their faith more traditionally (saying Mass in Latin, for example). So they formed the Society of St. Pius X, commonly called SSPX, named for a pope (1903-14) who opposed modernism, and have settled in a number of small communities all over the world.

Catholics from all over the country have settled in St. Mary's over the past 40 years, drawn by the opportunity to practice their faith apart from mainstream America. The town isn't cut off from modern life—people watch Hulu and shop at Sam's Club—but SSPX Catholicism permeates the town. The mayor and the entire city council are SSPX Catholics. Few women work, and families are large, since they don't believe in using birth control; so many children have been born in St. Mary's that the SSPX population has more than doubled the town's size since the 1960s, Green reports.

SSPX communities aren't a new concept. "Throughout American history, religious groups have walled themselves off from the rhythms and mores of society . . . These groups ostensibly have little in common, but they share a sense that living according to their beliefs while continuing to participate in mainstream American life is not possible. They have elected to undertake what might be termed cultural secession," Green reports. "Katherine Dugan, an assistant professor of religion at Springfield College, in Massachusetts, who studies Catholicism in the U.S., describes the desire for protected, set-apart communities as 'a natural American response to not liking what the cultural context is.'"

St. Marys, Kansas (Wikipedia map)

SSPX followers told Green they felt isolated by their faith before they moved to St. Mary's, that they were concerned about being labeled bigots by co-workers or friends, and that they worried about raising children in an increasingly secular society.

It's hard to measure just secular a nation is, but there's something to the SSPX followers' fears that the U.S. is becoming more secular. Millennials (those aged 23-38) are almost as likely to say they have no religion as they are to identify as Christians, Daniel Cox and Amelia Thomson-DeVeaux report for FiveThirtyEight. That's perhaps unsurprising, they note, since a new national survey found that millennials are less likely than other generations to have been raised with strong ties to religion in the first place.

"In 2000, 41% of the country said they attended religious services once a week or more, compared to 14% in 2000 who said they never did. This year we found less than 30%; 29% of Americans say they attend religious services weekly or more, compared with 26% who now tell us they never attend," said Chuck Todd on Meet the Press last week, referring to a NBC News/Wall Street Journal poll.

So, SSPX residents of St. Mary's aren't wrong when they say American society is changing. But, Green cautions: "The rise of more radical self-sorting poses a challenge to America’s experiment in multicultural democracy, enshrined in the motto e pluribus unum—'Out of many, one.' The dream of a diverse society is replaced with one in which different groups coexist, but mostly try to stay out of one another’s way. The ongoing experiment in St. Marys suggests what might be gained by such a realignment—and what might be lost."

Rural arts and culture scenes enhance small-town life, could improve communities' local economies

Artists Greta McClain and Natchez Beaulieu with the mural they installed in Grand
Rapids, Minn., for the arts and culture summit. (Emily Carlson/Grand Rapids Herald Review)

Rural communities and policy experts across the nation have spoken at length about things that can help rural areas: more jobs, improved broadband connection, better infrastructure. But one area that shouldn't be overlooked: the impact of the arts on rural communities.

A recent PBS NewsHour story showed how arts and cultural organizations can enhance life in a small town. Jeffrey Brown reports from the northern Minnesota town of Grand Rapids, pop. 11,000, the latest site of the biennial Rural Arts and Culture Summit. "This one brought together some 350 artists and community leaders from 25 states to exchange ideas, celebrate the role of creativity in small towns, and fight a national narrative about rural America in decline," Brown reports.

Laura Zabel, who heads Minnesota's Springboard for the Arts, said the reductionist narrative "kind of ignores the history and the complexity, and it often ignores all of the people who are working really hard to make what's next for that community." Rural artists can often find meaning in the hard parts of rural life, she said: "That's necessary for a community to move forward, that, rather than just telling people, get over it, people need outlets for their pain and their shame and their joy."

Beyond that, the arts can help improve the local economy, according to a recent National Governors Association study. Rural communities seeking to enhance their arts scene can look to the Indiana University Center for Rural Engagement, which was recently recognized for its work in developing a model for arts-based community and economic development that pairs university resources with rural communities' assets.