Rustbelt Claro Blues

I like to think of myself as an ethical consumer, but… I pick and choose.  Buying most of my food from farmers is a joy.   Having become used to knowing how my food is grown and who grows it, I no longer even think about going to Kroger.  Most of my furniture has a history or at least a provenance.   I have come to prefer buying handmade jewelry where the workmanship is worth far more than the materials. Clothing is tougher, but I try to pay attention to sustainable practices at least most of the time.

So why had it become so tough to choose a coffee shop?  My farmers don’t advertise their religion or their politics, and I don’t ask.  When I need outdoor furniture, I trust Downtown Home and Garden in Ann Arbor to sell me stuff that will not be taking up space in the landfill for many years, and that’s enough for me.  When I buy a new necklace,  I am free to assume that anyone who spends her time weaving copper wire around little rolled-up pieces of gray felt is probably not voting for Donald Trump.  “Made in America” clothing made from natural fibers is a feel-good purchase, even as I avoid looking too deeply into where the profits go.  To some extent I am shopping my conscience and, to be fair, to some extent ignorance is bliss.

These days, I have all the time in the world and plenty of money to indulge in a morning espresso or a mid-day latte, and there are lots of new places in Toledo to do it.  I wish that I could visit all of them without knowing I was indirectly supporting anti-choice organizations.  I wish “Christian coffee house” was not a thing.

 

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