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Could It Ever Be Worth It?

By Liam M.

Over the past two years, I have grown to love this part of the world. Coming from a suburb in south-central New Jersey, I understand now why people refer to this as God’s country. When I return home at the end of the month, I will miss looking up at the seemingly infinite blue skies through the massive canopies of evergreen bristles, while cliff swallows and hummingbirds flutter throughout. What makes it worse, however, is the fact that there is a chance that when I come back to visit after college, the area could be stripped of its beauty, destroyed by the rush to harvest – at any cost – the riches of the Marcellus Shale.

A full-scale rat invasion in your basement starts with just one curious little critter scoping out a warm space to spend the night.  The Delaware River is currently being scoped out by a vermin of its own – one I would pick rodents over any day.

In late May construction began on a “test-well” three miles uphill from the Delaware River in Equinunk, Pa., a 15-minute drive from FFS. Sited on a hilltop in the middle of a beautiful ancestral dairy farm, the steel tower looks as if it were computer generated by George Lucas for a seventh Star Wars movie.

These test wells use the same blowout preventers that BP used on their off-shore exploratory oil rig which is still blowing crude oil into the gulf’s ecosystem, two months after the explosion.

Although it would take DRBC permission for this well to be transformed into a full-scale “production well,” I find it horrifying that such a location would even be considered as a possible drilling site. It is all downhill to the Delaware River, a nationally designated “wild and scenic” waterway and provider of clean, unfiltered drinking water for over 15 million people in New York City, Southern Pa. and New Jersey.

Earlier this month, a well in Clearfield, Pa. spewed out an extremely conservative estimate of 35,000 gallons of chemically contaminated wastewater 75 feet into the air. This wastewater, which is infused with some of the 500-plus volatile chemicals allowed in fracking fluid, as well as those that lie deep beneath the earth’s surface, rained throughout the delicate Moshannon State Forest for 16 hours before being subdued by a crew flown in from Texas.

Take that well and put it in the place of the test well in Equinunk. Where would all those chemicals have gone? Straight downhill into the river (and all over those dairy cows and their drinking pond).

Have you ever tried backing an elephant out of a room after you’ve brought him in? Well, me either… but I don’t imagine it would be very easy. Such is the situation we are in with this test well. Surely the Newfield Exploration Company, who installed the test well, has intentions larger than an elephant’s general curiosity.

Jason Shoemaker, a geologist with the state environmental regulator’s oil and gas division, said that given the more than $1 million investment, test wells are almost always converted for production.

“Some call them exploration,  but they’re going to produce them for sure,” said Shoemaker. “If they get gas out of them, they’re planning on it.”

Letting this well remain is about as dangerous as playing Russian roulette with six bullets in the chamber. When Josh Fox traveled throughout the Midwest making his documentary “Gasland,” the only recurring theme for families whose houses were located near wells was that their water and their way of life was being destroyed.

Gas companies have repeatedly shown their lack of concern for the environment. With them at the reins, I don’t believe that natural gas drilling can be done safely. Regarding the economic side of the issues, Fox stated “You can’t put a price on health or the character of an area.”

A complete moratorium on all forms of drilling in New York and Pennsylvania is our only hope for keeping so much of why we live here–and why we call this God’s country–safe, and not looking like a flattened moonscape.

By Erika C.

I used to love to write. Nothing too productive usually came out of the tales of my imaginings, but I was content in that place with paper and a pen as a very young child. When I started using drugs, my passions, the few that were important to me along with writing, took a backseat to my new 100 mph lifestyle. I arrived at The Family School a little over two years ago, scared, angry, and alone. As time went on I began to trust again, to love again, and to have fun again.

About a year ago I began researching colleges and majors. My interest in the media and how it affects society led me to choose communications and public relations as my prospective major. As Jason Garnar, head of College Counseling, and I continued to research, he matter-of-factly spoke the words that would change everything: “I think it would be a good idea if you joined the journalism class.”

Absolutely not. No way would I ever do that much work for one class. No way would I ever give my soul to the notorious Chris Stein. A week later I was sitting in 107 with a new schedule, a new computer, and a new reason to dread the school week. I had just made a year commitment to write for the school newspaper. I got my first assignment and began to volunteer for articles and as December graduation came closer I began to enjoy the class enough to consider applying for the internship for the following semester. My love of writing slowly crept back, and although it was sometimes painful to have my work critiqued, my writing began to sound better.

As the semester drew to a close I decided to have a conversation with Chris and express my interest in the position. However, when the  Spring 2010 Intern List came out I was extremely disappointed that I was not on it. I started the semester with a new resentment but determined not to let any one see how angry I really was. After multiple scheduling problems and Chris constantly complaining about me having too many classes, he began to send e-mails to the administration desperately trying to convince them that the best thing for me would be to have my schedule cleared of all unnecessary classes so I could work for him during my free periods.

One day Chris called me into his room. He said nothing, only handed me an e-mail saying that I was officially his fourth intern and that my schedule would be cleared of all extra classes. And that was how it all began. I began spending all of my time in 107 either writing or doing layout work for the newspaper, or putting my creative mind to the test making yearbook spread after yearbook spread.

As far as thrills and chills go, there have been mostly good times, with the exception of me getting so sulky after being critiqued that Chris had to revive me with two Ritz crackers and some positive reinforcement. I am so grateful that I was given the opportunity to write for The Family Times and even more grateful that this school gave me an internship working for Chris Stein. He has taught me so much and although the last thing I would want to do is blow up his ego by saying that he really taught me how to work, it is so true. He has taught me how to perform under pressure and how to really push myself to produce the best work I am capable of.

I will be graduating from The Family Foundation School come June, and although I will miss the staff, students, and loving atmosphere that this school has introduced me to, it is my time to apply the principles and test my values in the unsheltered territory known to Family School students as the “outside.” I would like to thank Chris Stein for always pushing me and never letting me give up. I would also like to thank everyone who reads the newspaper.