I spent this morning
hanging laundry on the line to dry and then beginning some overdue
repairs on the wooden kitchen storm door. The chance to add a little
of myself to this house's long history has always brought me
pleasure. It's nice to look down as I type and see window glazing
under my fingernails.
The memories recorded in
the entries on this blog are probably the best tool I have to convey
what this home means to me and my family; the relationships and
memories that I treasure about this place, and the hopes I have for a
future here. I have started this post multiple times in the past 15
months, but have never yet found words to convey what I want to say.
Even if I do share the words I write today they will inevitably fall
short.
We found out in late March
of 2018 that the Einsel House is in the footprint of the proposed
Seneca Wind Project, an industrial wind project covering 25,000 acres
that intends to build up to nineteen 600 (+/-) foot industrial wind
turbines within two miles of our home. If that happens we will try
to sell the Einsel House and move. It hurts to be in this position.
We bought this property
ten years ago not only because I love this house but because we love
the whole package – the tree lined creek, the open fields, the
sunsets and the wildlife, the landmarks on the Google Earth map of
today unchanged from the landmarks of the county atlas of over 120 years past. The history in this house drew me from the start, but
there are plenty of old houses in town that we never even considered
buying. The Einsel House was the perfect house in the perfect
setting; it was a wonderfully intact historic home in a rural and
agricultural setting. It was exactly what I wanted. (And Charles,
bless him, was willing to come along for the ride.) There's no pizza
delivery to our house, cell phone service can be spotty and high
speed internet options limited, certain times of the year we expect
to be stuck behind slow-moving farm machinery, and some days we can
smell the new livestock barn built south of our home. We expected
all of those inconveniences when we moved here. But we never
expected our home could be in the middle of an industrial energy
complex that would change the light, the sound, and the view. In
short, industrial wind would take away many of the reasons we chose
to live here in the first place.
Home is supposed to be
your sanctuary. It's hard to explain what it does to you when the
place that has been your respite is suddenly the constant source and
reminder of your stress.
Coming home from work and
immediately noticing that the kids turned off the TV when they were
done playing video games but once again forgot to turn off the old
Xbox 360. The sound of the disk still spinning has always annoyed
me. Charles measured that sound last summer at 37 decibels. The
company planning the Seneca Wind Project estimates wind turbine noise
at our house will be 41-44 decibels. And I won't be able to turn it
off.
Appreciating a beautiful
sunset and turning to Charles to say, “Look at that beautiful sun -
” but stopping mid-sentence with the realization that this is the
exact time of day we will have shadow flicker once the turbines are
built.
Setting outside in the
early evening to enjoy watching the Einsel bats fly out into the
night. But this summer I always have paper and pen in hand,
recording not only the number of bats but also the temperature, cloud
cover, and visibility of the moon. Knowing that the data I collect
will become part of the baseline for a mortality study on bats if the
Seneca Wind Project is built. (Prior to learning my home could be
in a wind project I had no idea that simply flying too close to a
wind turbine is fatal for bats. The change in air pressure near
moving turbine blades causes the fragile blood vessels in bat lungs
to explode, thus the bat drowns in its own blood.) And thus
wondering if I sit outside in future evenings, how many fewer bats
will I count?
Avoiding a familiar route
so you don't have to see the painfully slow process of removing a
scenic tree line. Wondering every time you do pass how much more
destruction will follow as narrow rural roads are widened to
accommodate massive industrial machinery.
Sitting immediately beside
Ohio's most pro-wind State Senator, Matt Dolan, during a meeting in
Tiffin last fall and being shocked when he openly acknowledged that
the wind industry would be a “burden” on this community. Then
feeling much less shocked when he wondered
aloud if an adjustment to PILOT payments and resultant increase in
local tax revenue would make Seneca County more accepting of this
“burden”. (The Dolan family are majority owners of the Cleveland
Indians, and I have not watched or listened to a game yet this season
that I haven't been reminded of Senator Dolan's willingness to
sacrifice my community.)
Coming home late one
night, getting out of the car and looking up at a stunning, starry
night sky. Then remembering that those intensely dark night skies
may soon be dotted with hundreds of blinking red lights in all
directions.
Getting a call from the
architect you contacted a year ago, meeting with him and getting his
plans for the addition we have anticipated ever since buying this
home a decade ago. But feeling pain whenever you glance at his
rolled up plans, because you know it makes no sense to invest the
money you have been working so hard to save on a house you might soon
choose to leave.
My dad has asked me,
“Where would you go?” and sadly, it's a good question. Seneca
Wind is the project our current house is in, but there are now
multiple other additional wind projects in various stages of
development surrounding this area. Republic Wind to the north and
Emerson Creek Wind to the east are already progressing through the
Ohio Power Siting Board process. And it appears that the communities
where I was raised and married are about to find out they are the
proposed site of another project called Honey Creek Wind.
Over a year into this
fight I am as angry as ever at the wind industry's unwillingness to
recognize any sanctity in setting. As time passes though I have
grown increasingly saddened by the realization that this industry not
only undermines and damages long-standing expectations of place that
residents have typically (and understandably) taken for granted, it
also undermines and damages individuals, relationships, and the
fundamental social fabric of communities. It does this intentionally
and unapologetically.
Those who speak up in
opposition to wind energy are lambasted as backwards, unintelligent,
'flat-earthers' who are against clean energy and have no concern for
the environment. They are accused of being selfish and of wanting to
control their neighbor's property. They are labeled as puppets of
dirty energy, and any organized anti-wind effort is assumed to be
funded by coal or oil. I cannot hope to address each of
these accusations here, but I assure you that none apply to the
anti-wind movement as I have seen and participated in it here in
Seneca County.
But there is another group
that I suspect feels equally attacked when the wind industry enters a
community – those who own land leased to a wind company. These are
accused of being gullible, greedy and money-hungry; willing to sell
out their neighbors for their own financial gain. Here I cannot
claim personal experience, nor will I try. Neither will I paint with
a broad brush, nor imply that all leaseholders acquired that title
through the same process or prompted by the same motives. What I
will do is state that I have seen just as much pain and torment among
some leaseholders as I have among the most fervent of anti-wind
non-leaseholders.
Consider the following:
-Leaseholders who had
concerns but signed the lease because they were asked to so by other
family members.
 |
| Part of a public comment on the Seneca Wind Project filed with the OPSB |
-Leaseholders who did not
sign any lease, but purchased or inherited land with a lease already in place. Some in this group did not even realize until much later that the land they had purchased/inherited was subject to a wind agreement. Among those who were aware, many assumed that because the leases were years old the wind company had abandoned the project and the lease would simply expire and be forgotten.
Situations like these were in the back of my mind some months ago as I watched the documentary
Windfall a second time.
When I first watched Windfall
in the spring of 2018 I identified with the residents opposed to
turbines being built in their community. But when I watched the
documentary again this spring it was several statements made by
pro-wind residents that stood out to me.
“I
never thought it would be so contentious an issue. It's really
divided our community and I didn't see it coming. I guess I should
have....It's been difficult for my family. My wife has taken the
divisiveness and the rancor and the anger...she's taken that to
heart. It's hurt. And I think we'll both be glad when it's over.”
- Frank Bachler, Town Supervisor
“It
isn't all gravy for the landowner. But it seemed like a small price
to pay for what we thought was the public good. And then time goes
by and all of a sudden we are the bad people. We
are the bad people! Oh my word!
The neighbors are having meetings at their house; what to do about
the Hamiltons....they are the bad people. We've got to stop 'em
somehow.” - John Hamilton, Leaseholder
These
words were still rattling around in my head, bouncing around with my
own experiences from the past year, as the end credits began to
scroll on the screen in front of me. And I saw that Windfall
was released in 2010. Almost a decade ago. That really caught my
attention.
One of the many nights that we've been up too late talking about this issue Charles made the
following statement, “Whoever controls the narrative wins.” He
is absolutely right, and I'm convinced the wind industry knows
this as well. This industry knows what it does to the social fabric
of a community; it knows the division it sows within families, within
churches and community organizations. And yet I believe when
wind companies approach potential leaseholders they emphasize how beneficial and welcome these projects are. The division that communities suffer in the wake of industrial wind is minimized (or completely omitted). Because when courting potential
leaseholders it is the wind company that controls the narrative.
“In the
beginning I just thought our community will embrace this. I was very
naive.” - Frank Bachler
I
have talked to numerous leaseholders here in Seneca County and all of
them have expressed surprise at how quickly this issue divided the
community following the public announcement of these projects. None expected this issue to be so
divisive.
This
community division may have taken my neighbors by surprise, but I'm
convinced it was no surprise to the wind companies targeting this
county. Windfall was released in 2010, yet in so many ways it is the
same story unfolding nearly a decade later here. A decade later and
the industry continues to follow the same community-wrenching script.
The more I reflect on this the angrier it makes me. Any individual
who is offered a wind lease has the right to know the consequences of
signing the dotted line. They have a right to as much information as
possible – and that should include knowledge of how their neighbors
feel about the project. Yet not only does the wind industry not
provide this information, it has perpetuated a system that
intentionally obscures this information.
I
don't believe the companies behind Seneca Wind, Republic Wind,
Emerson Creek Wind, Honey Creek Wind, or any other project lurking
behind the scenes really care about the people of Seneca
County. Instead, I believe the wind industry sees people as obstacles
to be overcome. Those who do not own enough land to matter to these
companies are left in the dark until the 11th
hour. Those who do own enough land are wooed with a carefully selected narrative
long before the 11th
hour. Thus the division is set before that critical time. As a result, land owners are encouraged to sign a lease believing it will benefit their community only to later and suddenly realize that many in their community do not see wind energy as beneficial.
Here
in Seneca County we are now fifteen months past that 11th
hour. Our rural landscape remains intact for now, but the social fabric of
this community has already suffered too many tears. Perhaps the cruelest
torment inflicted by the wind industry is suffered by those who
unexpectedly feel villainized by their neighbors and friends. This
is sadder still because if you ask those neighbors and friends to
identify the villain in this saga I guarantee you will hear in reply
the name of a wind company and not the name of a leaseholder.
Anti-wind does not mean anti-neighbor.
I
wrote somewhere back at the beginning of this post that even if
choose to make this post public I would inevitably fall short of
everything I wanted to say. I was right.
(As a postscript - Thank you for the many kind responses to this post. Although for this post I have chosen not to
publicly share comments please know that your words are appreciated.)
