I’m also reminded of my chicken coop. It is quite convivial. While it utilizes all of the modern amenities — electricity, pumped water, etc. — it allows participation and responsibility between and among me, my family, and our breakfast and dinner table. A precut prepackaged boned, skinned, and frozen chicken breast at the supermarket is industrial — it imposes its meaning on the user, who consumes it. I realize it will strike a lot of ears very oddly to be talking about the meaning implicit in a chicken breast, but it’s there. Now, lest I be accused again of being a charter member of the crunchy Taliban, let me say that I’m not suggesting that everyone has to go out and build a chicken coop and swear off grocery meat.

Another example that comes to mind: the interstate highway system is industrial. State highways and byways are more convivial. Being a lifelong Kansan, I have heard the comment more often than I care to remember: “Oh Kansas. That’s that long flat straight stretch of I-70 on the way to Colorado, right?” Well, yeah, I guess. That’s the “meaning” of a region when it has been received through the values imposed by an industrial tool. On the other hand, roads actually built by natives of the region mean something more. They go to real places and serve real purposes that are convivial: that is, they invite participation and responsibility, rather than just consumption.