Just read a completely depressing, infuriating article about pesticide drift in California. Pesticide drift is what happens when sprawl has encroached on industrial monocropping--formerly known as farmland. Farmers spray horrible chemicals on windy days, much of the spray blows off, straight to the nearest housing community or school. Hundreds of people get sick. Farmers continue to insist regulation isn't what's needed--it's community education so people know to just stay inside with the windows shut until this toxic crap continues to blow away, probably somewhere into the ocean. And we know the oceans have an infinite capacity to absorb this crap, right?
I suspect the reaction of a lot of folks will be "ahh, must buy organic." But farmer attitude here pissed me off so much I don't see how that can possibly be enough. Do you want to buy from a farmer who thinks your kid should just stay inside for a day while the cloud of toxicity blows away? Do you want to drink wine from a vineyard who sprays at the same time the school bus goes by? Wouldn't you rather buy from a farmer who has a direct connection to your kid and your community? Not all farmer's market stands are certified organic, which is fine. The more careful way to shop isn't to trust labels: it's to ask specific questions like "what sprays do you use?" Get the name, write it down, look it up and decide whether you want to support that practice.
When I lived down in the Virginia swamps, there was a bug spray truck that drove around town on summer nights, I believe it was twice a week, it would come down my dead-end street and turn around, so our little corner got sort of a double or triple dose of the visibly green cloud. You couldn't smell diesel at all from the truck--just that sick-sweet smell of corporate evil and community doom. Every week, a few kids would laughingly ride their bikes behind the truck, trailing it by 20 feet or so, as it drove all the windy neighborhood streets. I never heard of anyone getting sick, but some of the kids were younger than I was, and I didn't know them well. The odd thing about this whole practice: We never knew what the truck was spraying, and my parents didn't seem to know who paid for it or who approved it. It was just the bug spray truck. Don't ask questions.