China Ate My Jeans

The lavender’s in bloom, the air’s sweet and warm. It’s late spring.

Yesterday, after more than a year blogging and hunting for products made here in our little 3.79 million square-mile neighborhood, I found myself hankering (now there’s a word I’ve never used before) for a new blouse. Something feminine and pretty, something to celebrate the sunshiny sweetness of the season. And it mattered not a whit where the aforementioned blouse had been manufactured, just so it landed in my closet. Bring it on. Then I checked my email. Big mistake. The AAM (Alliance for American Manufacturing) had sent this:

The latest monthly U.S. trade figures were released this morning by the Department of Commerce: In March 2012, the U.S. racked up an international goods and services trade deficit of $51.8 billion, up from $45.4 billion in February. The monthly goods deficit with China rose to $21.7 billion, up from $19.4 billion in February.

Said Scott Paul, Executive Director of the Alliance for American Manufacturing (AAM): “The widening March trade deficit is bad news for the economy. For one thing, the expanding trade deficit means that growth in GDP will be lower. Surging imports from China indicate that we are falling into bad habits again.”

Ouch, Mr. Paul. Isn’t that “bad habits” comment a bit harsh? Hey, we as Americans are trying. It’s just there’s not a lot out there to buy, USA-wise, right? Check your own closet. Where were your jeans made? Your suits? Your shoes? Just sayin’.

So I headed out to shop. Don’t mind admitting (well, I do but in the spirit of honesty I’ll take the plunge here) that I felt defeated. It didn’t help that every single clothing item I found in this particular department store–which shall remain nameless because, seriously, all department and big box stores are the same when it comes to this issue–had been manufactured somewhere outside the USA. And it didn’t help that I found this really pretty blouse that called out to me saying look at me, wouldn’t I be pretty on you this Mother’s Day with a pair of white skinny jeans? Here it is:

Never mind that I can’t fit into and therefore don’t have white skinny jeans, the blouse called to me anyway. It looked much cuter in person than in the above picture, so just trust me here. And worse, at first I thought it had been made here and my heart seriously skipped a beat. Here’s why I thought it had been Made in the USA:

See how the cardboard tag says “Lucky Brand Blue Jeans of America: Too Tough to Die”? But mainly what stood out for me was the of America part. Surely a brand wouldn’t showcase its American heritage on its logo if its products weren’t actually Made in America, right? But no, the tag told a different story:

Nothing against India, but I’d just rather buy Indian brands from India, not American brands from India because then, really, is it of America anymore? And, while we’re on the topic, is an American corporation that makes its products offshore really helping create an America that is, as the logo claims, Too Tough to Die? Now I should add that some Lucky Brand jeans are actually made here in the USA, in Vernon, California. If so, why can’t the company make all its jeans and tops and products here? I don’t know. But I sense a letter to the company forming in my non-skinny, Too Tough to Die American brain.

And yet I didn’t put the blouse back. I held onto it, as if in denial that it wasn’t what I wanted it to be, as if I had a crush on it and just couldn’t face up to the truth. I went from circular rack to circular rack. Zip, zero, nada. And then, when I’d hit rock bottom and was about to go over to the dark side, I stumbled onto a circular rack that had a “Karen Kane” sign posted on it. And I remembered interviewing Karen’s son, Michael, back in September, 2011. I recalled he’d said they had been manufacturing in China but had decided to begin manufacturing in southern California again. Wait, could it be? Was that another blouse similar to the Lucky Brand one but even cuter? And the shopping skies opened and poured forth this heavenly Karen Kane item:

But had it, as promised months earlier by Michael Kane, actually really truly been Made in the USA? Take a look:

I actually got kind of emotional, reading that tag, seeing that label inside the blouse. I wanted to grab other shoppers and have them look, too. I’ll send a note to Michael Kane, to thank him and the Karen Kane brand for returning the majority of its manufacturing to Los Angeles.

You know how US magazine has that snarky, obnoxious-yet-fun-in-a-sick-way feature called Who Wore It Best? Maybe it’s time for CAMJ to do a “Who Manufactured It Best?” feature.  Yes, the Karen Kane blouse cost $20 more than the Lucky Brand blouse. But considering the high cost of unemployment in this country, what’s the true cost of that Lucky Brand blouse? Besides, the Karen Kane blouse won the contest, hands down, in the comfort department. It felt better on. The fabric seemed to breathe better. Who Manufactured It Best? Congratulations, Karen Kane. Job well done!

Do this

Don’t do that

Can’t you read the signs?

–Signs, Five Man Electrical Band (1970)

A few days ago my daughter Stephanie, who lives in San Francisco, called. “Have you seen that huge new billboard about China? It’s hard to miss as you get on the Bay Bridge.” I had no idea what Steph was talking about. 

A quick Google search filled me in. On March 26, 2012, the Alliance for American Manufacturing launched a nationwide effort to keep taxpayer-funded infrastructure projects truly Made in the USA. Kudos to AAM for coming up with a brilliant, spot-on campaign.

From the organization’s press release:

A national Should Be Made in America campaign by the non-profit, non-partisan Alliance for America Manufacturing (AAM) kicks off today at the new San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge, a massive construction project that was outsourced to China at the cost of thousands of American manufacturing jobs.

The Should Be Made in America campaign will feature outdoor and digital advertising as well as online activism to urge the use of American-made components for infrastructure projects financed with U.S. tax dollars.  The campaign launches with two large billboards stationed near the Bay Bridge that feature the flag of the People’s Republic of China inscribed with “The Bay Bridge/100% Foreign Steel.  ShouldBeMadeInAmerica.com” 

Kudos to AAM for a brilliant billboard campaign (and thanks, as well, for sending over the photo). I know we’ve discussed the Bay Bridge fiasco several times, but for those interested in further reading about yet another tragic outsourcing tale, check out this investigative piece by the American University School of Communication. And this, from The New York Times.   

A couple of days ago (before the latest rainstorm arrived) I spotted a red, yellow and blue tricycle on display out in front of a children’s store. I’m always on high alert for toys and such that Grandpa Don and I can keep at our place for our year-old grandson to enjoy. This tricycle looked well-made, even from a few yards away. Not some molded lightweight plastic thing, but the real deal. Heavy steel frame, wide wheel base, rubber tires. And–impressive bonus–with a long chrome push bar attached to the frame so a parent, grandparent or caregiver wouldn’t have to break his/her back by bending over to push a toddler along. But mainly the sturdiness, the built-to-last appearance of the little three-wheeler reeled me in:

A metal plate attached to the frame said “Kettler” and “Made in Germany.” I took a closer look, saw a couple of scratches on the handle bar. The tricycle was (gasp!) used. This was a consignment store. And yet overall the tricycle looked so shiny and new. The sales clerk joined me out front. “Just came in today. I sold another last week but it didn’t have the push bar. Isn’t it great that this one already has it? Kettler makes really high quality items. Moms love their stuff.” Apparently the tricycle can be put in stroller mode (hence the push bar) which keeps the tires and steering wheel in place, or unlocked when the child is ready to navigate on his or her own. Gotta love that. Minutes later the mighty little tricycle was safely tucked into the back of my car.

Driving home, I thought about my son Matt’s first two-wheeler: a blue Schwinn. I’d found it at a bicycle shop a few weeks before Christmas. Matt was about four; I wanted  something with training wheels. “What would you get for your own child?” I’d asked the store owner. He had rows and rows of nifty expensive new bikes to sell. He scratched his jaw. “If it was my kid? Come here.” He led me to the repair section in the back of the shop. “This here’s what you want. It’s a Schwinn. I know it’s used, but the thing’s heavy as all get out so it’s stable. Easy to ride. I can put some good training wheels on it for you, clean it up and you’ll be set.”

Matt loved that used Schwinn bike, and within weeks didn’t need the training wheels anymore. A couple of years later we passed it down to his little sister Stephanie, and then a few years later to Carolyn and then eventually to our youngest, Michelle.

What ever happened to Schwinn? I stopped by a local bicycle shop to find out. The 30-something guy who worked there chuckled at the mention of the name. “Schwinn? Wow, they make massive amounts of crappy merchandise. It’s not really Schwinn anymore.”

According to Wikipedia, in 1895 Schwinn was founded in Chicago by German-born mechanical engineer Ignaz Schwinn. It became the dominant manufacturer of American bicycles through most of the 20th century, with 30 factories turning out thousands of bicycles a day. But from the 1980s on, Schwinn struggled with production problems caused by inflation and competition from overseas (although Schwinn, too, eventually moved its production to Asia). Today Schwinn is a sub-brand of Pacific Cycle, owned by the multi-national conglomerate, Dorel Industries. Dorel is a Canadian company based in Montreal, Quebec.

And what about Kettler, the German company that made my grandbaby’s new / old German tricycle? Here’s a statement I found online:

Heinz Kettler has always remained true to the “Made in Germany” quality principle and it is still the central pillar of the company’s management philosophy. This means that even after 50 years of trading all over the world, most of the factories, and particularly the most important ones, are still in Germany.  

–hayneedle.com

Whatever happened to the “Made in America” quality principle? Does it exist anymore? Does it matter? Yes, to me and countless other Americans, it does. To Adore La Vie and hundreds of other businesses that manufacture in the United States it does. To the Alliance for American Manufacturing it does. They’ve decided to take the fight for American manufacturing directly to the people. Good for them. More on that to come.

In the meantime, check out S & M Bikes for the super cool BMX set. All Made in the USA. Or want something a bit more traditional? Try Bowery Lane Bikes. Pricey, yes, but these commuter bicycles are all made with care in Brooklyn, NY. Think we don’t make bikes in America anymore? Guess again.  

Amanda Boyd, talented San Francisco-based children’s clothing designer, exudes energy. She’s passionate about her family, her work and–lucky for us–her country. It’s easy to see why she chose to call her clothing line “Adore La Vie.” Translation: Love Life. This upbeat message truly reflects the philosophy of the entrepreneur behind the brand. On Adore La Vie’s website, Amanda describes her boutique clothing (sizes 6 mths-10 yrs; from $22 to $72) as “playful, colorful, adventuresome,” and adds this:

Adore La Vie is all designed and produced in San Francisco, so keep on shopping our Made in the USA brand!

Hurray for Adore La Vie!

This past February I attended Adore La Vie’s Spring-Summer 2012 Trunk Show in SF. Oh my, such beautifully made clothes, such gorgeous colors (coral, brown, lavender), such fun, safari-inspired girls’ dresses, tops and skirts, and for the boys, great looking collared shirts, t-shirts and khaki pants. I bought a couple of things for my grandson (who is now almost one!) including this brightly-colored t-shirt with a hand-blocked stamp of the Golden Gate Bridge ($22):

I caught up with Amanda by phone today. We chatted about many things, including domestic manufacturing. Here is part of our conversation:

Q: Let’s start with fabrics. Often I hear from company owners that it’s tough to find affordable domestic fabrics anymore. Is that true? Where do you find your fabrics? Are they imported?

A: Twice a year I go to the wholesale fabric mart in Los Angeles. The foreign fabrics are all located downstairs. You have to order large quantities–like 5,000 yards–to purchase the fabrics from overseas. I only need 50-200 yards. But even as my business grows, I plan to use fabrics Made in the USA. So I head upstairs, look through the USA fabrics, get inspired. And for my buttons and zippers, I’ll order them from suppliers that make them in South San Francisco.    

Q: What’s next?

A: I’ll have the samples made. All my sewing is done at a place on Mission Street in San Francisco. The woman who runs it immigrated here from China. She has about 20 people working for her full time. I’m really pleased with the quality, and it’s also important to me that the working conditions are good. Her prices are higher, but she treats her workers well.      

Q: Then what?

A: Daniel’s Garment Service in Oakland makes all my patterns. So I’m working with Daniel and my sewer to get the samples just right. The sewer might make design suggestions that don’t change the overall look but can save on the cost. Eventually Daniel grades–meaning sizes–marks, cuts using this laser cutter, and bundles the pieces. Then I get them to Mission for sewing.

Q: How do you sell your line?

A: I now have three reps who sell to 27 stores all over the country, and we’re always adding new customers. It’s exciting.

Q: Do buyers care whether or not your products are Made in the USA?

A: They used to not care. In the last two years there’s been a definite shift. They’ll say “We’re only looking for USA goods.”

Q: What happens if your business hits the big time? Will you take production overseas?

A: No. I’m confident that the Mission Street sewers will easily be able to handle larger orders. They can do 60,000 pieces for Anthropologie, so I know they could do the same for me. I’ll never compete with companies as large as Old Navy or Gymboree. Adore La Vie is a smaller, boutique label.

Q: This all sounds like an incredible amount of work. Why did you decide to run your own company?

A: My Dad had his own business, an office products company. He worked really hard. I grew up watching that. I went with him to work all the time. Being a business owner seems really familiar. But I had to work my way up to where I am now. I worked at Spiegel for a few years as a tech designer, and then for Gymboree as a creative designer. In Chicago, before I relocated to the Bay Area, I ran a t-shirt business called Strip-Tees. I’d use old vintage images from film strips across the chest and put sayings like “blonde bombshell” on back. I did that for a year or two. All these experiences helped me build my corporate career. I had a sense of how to do a business.

Q: Hate to ask this, but does Gymboree make anything here?

A: I’d say about 99 percent of their line is Made in Hong Kong. They also manufacture in Vietnam and India, I think.

Q: Do you ever see a time when apparel manufacturing would return here?

A: It would take someone big–like Old Navy or Gymboree–to do it. Even then you’d have to find space, machinery, help. But I’ve read some people on the east coast are trying to do it, so who knows? Maybe it could happen.

***

Thanks, Amanda Boyd, for your time, talent and commitment to making your outstanding children’s clothing line in the USA.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

–Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening (1923)

*

Grandma’s got a new pair of running shoes. Best of all, on the New Balance box (as on the box from the pair of New Balance shoes I bought last year), in a tiny corner at the bottom, an American flag discreetly waves hello. Next to the flag there’s the NB logo and this unwavering, welcome message:

Committed to American workers.

According to NB’s website, “25% of our shoes sold in the United States are made or assembled right here.” Twenty-five percent is better than none. Sold. Well, almost sold. Here’s what happened:

A few weeks ago, strolling along San Francisco’s iconic Chestnut Street with my daughter and baby grandson, I decided to stop in at Fleet Feet Sports for some new walking / jogging / (let’s be honest) mostly walking shoes.  ”I’d like a new pair of New Balance shoes,” I told the high-energy, clearly passionate-about-all-things-athletic sales clerk, ”but can you please check to be sure the box indicates they’re made in the USA?” He was off and running, literally, and back in a jiffy with the New Balance shoes. I tried them on, walked around. They felt okay. But it’s nice to have more than one option, consumer-wise, and so I said: ”Just out of curiosity…is there another brand you’d recommend…? Maybe I should compare. Just for fun. Don’t you think?” High energy guy nodded and chuckled. “Yeah, for sure. Actually, my favorite is Brooks. Would you like to try a pair?” I nodded. “Sure, that’d be great.” Oh no. What am I doing?   

Sales guy returned with gazelle-like speed, handed the Brooks box to me. I looked on its side: “Made in China.” I winced, pulled the shoes out of the box, put them on, walked around and thought: My year buying USA-made is over. It’s fine. I’ve done my duty to God, country, my Dad, the economy, factory workers in every nook and cranny throughout the USA. For goodness sake, I’ve earned these China-made shoes. And they feel like little pillows. Thanks, Chinese factory workers!   

“I’ll  take ‘em.”

Driving over the Bay Bridge toward home, I ruminated about my China-made purchase. All along way the steel and cement pillars of the new Bay Bridge, currently under construction, loomed off in the distance. I couldn’t help but think of the new bridge’s decidedly  Made-in-China Label. By the time I pulled into the driveway, I knew the shoes had to go back.

The next day I stopped in at a sportswear store nearer home. I tried on a pair of New Balance shoes in a different style. They were more affordable than the NB’s I’d tried on in the city ($99.95+ tax instead of $149). To my relief they, too, felt like pillows, but also had hefty support. Thanks, USA workers. Nice job. Thanks NB for continuing to make at least a percentage of your shoes here in America. Twenty-five percent is better than none.

“I’ll take ‘em.”

Here they are.

I’ve since returned the Brooks shoes (which had cost about the same as my newly acquired NB’s).  Fleet Feet Sports graciously took them back, no problem. Driving home along the Bay Bridge that day, I again looked at the new construction and tried not to despair. A pair of shoes is so tiny compared to the gazillion dollar project. 

But all is not lost, my fellow Americans. Do not shun the east. Embrace it for wisdom and solace. ‘Twas ancient Chinese philosopher Lao-tzu (c.604-c.531 B.C.) who once said:

A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step. 

I’ve always liked that aphorism. But hold on. As if to warn me against over-simplifying the complexity of today’s globalized world, Lao-tzu also said:

To know that you do not know is the best.

To pretend to know when you do not know is a disease.

No worries, Lao-tzu. I know I’m still learning. Miles and miles and miles to go. Time to put on my NB’s and head out the door into the warm spring day, philosophers and poets chanting in my head.  

It rained the next day, not the chilly drops of winter that crystallized into ice on the ground, not the angry torrent of summer thunderstorms. It was the gentle drizzle that softly soaked the earth to awaken the trees and flowers, warning them of the approach of spring. I had always loved that wet smell of the earth after a day of spring rain. It seemed so full of hope and the promise of beautiful scented flowers and green shady leaves.

–Nien Cheng, Life and Death in Shanghai

This morning I walked through my neighborhood to the local Farmer’s Market. Along the way, yard after yard showcased the season’s colors, brought forth thanks to a welcome surge of rain in the past fews weeks: lush green lawns and trimmed boxwood, gigantic, frilly red camellias, purple pansies, white azaleas and pink petunias. On and on the entertainment continued, courtesy of Mother Nature, leading me to the place where farmers, bakers, kettle-popcorn-makers arrive in dozens of trucks from miles away to sell their goods. Here’s what I bought:  

 Borbas Farms (Aroma, CA): Italian broccoli, carrots, zucchini

Sunrise Nursery (Watsonville, CA): tulips

Houweling Nursery (Camarillo, CA): orange & grape tomatoes

Tamai Farm (Oxnard, CA): Strawberries

Iacopi Farms (Half Moon Bay, CA): English peas

At Lunardi’s–right next door to the Farmer’s Market–I bought a beautiful leg of lamb (grown in the USA) to roast for Easter dinner with the family.  When my eight siblings and I were growing up,  once a month or so our grandmother, Nana, would arrive at our San Fernando Valley house bearing lasagna or gnocchi she’d cooked for Sunday dinner. When spring arrived, Nana would buy a leg o’ lamb from the Farmer’s Market  a few blocks from her Hollywood home. She’d drive “over the hill” from Hollywood to the Valley, park her car out in front of our  house, and proudly carry the lamb (wrapped in white butcher paper) inside. “Look, kids, wait ’till you see what I brought.” She’d unwrap the lamb, and with hushed reverence show my sisters and me how to pierce the lamb and slip several whole, peeled cloves of garlic into it. We’d put fresh rosemary sprigs from her garden into the roasting pan, and lots of red potatoes. Oh, the smell of a roasting leg of spring lamb! Heavenly.

For tomorrow’s dinner we’ll also have a salad of locally grown greens, avocados (hurray! the California avos are back!) and vine ripened orange and red tomatoes from the Farmer’s Market. With the lamb we’ll have heaps of Italian broccoli–leaves, stems, flowers and all–quickly sauteed in garlic and olive oil. Sweet and tender-crisp. We’ll also have pearl barley cooked in French onion soup–one of Don’s family favorites. Yum.

About the quote at the top of this post: I recently read Nien Cheng’s extraordinary story of life in Beijing during the Cultural Revolution. In 1966, Cheng was arrested on false charges, thrown in solitary confinement, and left there for a crueling six-and-a-half years. During that time her young adult daughter was killed by the Red Guards. That Cheng survived stands as a testament to her faith in God and her conviction of her own innocence. Starved, gravely ill, arms painfully locked behind her back with handcuffs, wrists infected and excreting yellow pus, Cheng triumphed over her captors. She lived to tell her story. In the book’s epilogue, Cheng explains why she wrote her story:

I felt a compulsion to speak out and let those who have the good fortune to live in freedom know what my life was like during those dark days in Maoist China…The United States of America is the right place for me. Here are Jewish survivors of the Holocaust, dissidents of repressive regimes who had been imprisoned, boat people from Vietnam, and political refugees from tyranny. Among people like these, I do not feel alone… (1986)

 Nien Cheng died in 2009, at age 94. Throughout the book, and again in the epilogue, Cheng expresses concern that China has a history of swinging like a pendulum, every thirty years or so, from revolution to peace and back again. She sounded the alarm: buyer beware. It can all change overnight. I mention her in this post simply because she was so passionate about America, about this place filled with promise–like the promise of spring, it seems unending–this place that stands like a beacon of hope for so many in the world.

Have a wonderful, blessed weekend, my fellow Americans. 

Bet you thought I’d forgotten all about China Ate My Jeans. Never. I’ve been shopping, studying, interviewing experts, learning about skilled and unskilled manufacturing. My desk (a 1940s-era drop leaf table I found at a second hand store) overflows with information.

On this Good Friday, I’ve been thinking about the poorest amongst us. And I’ve been wondering, selfishly but sincerely, how to help them without giving up much myself. Sorry. Have to be honest here. These thoughts began this morning. I was going to go to church–where every good Christian belongs today–but then decided to quickly check the just-released U.S. Department of Labor statistics for March. So if my pastor, Father Gerry, asks why I wasn’t at Good Friday services I’ll simply say it was the government’s fault. (He’ll assume I was working on my taxes. Surely he’ll forgive me).

The most intriguing statistics? Employment status of civilian population 25 years and over by educational attainment. Did you know that unemployment among those without a high school diploma is now 12.6 percent (or 1,449,000)? Unemployment of those 25 and over with a high school diploma but no college degree: 8 percent or 2,902,000. The media, from what I’ve read today, aren’t discussing those two out-of-work groups. Yet together they total a whopping four million individuals. Meanwhile, newspapers today collectively high-five the 30.4 percent of Americans 25 years and over who now have college degrees, an historically high number. Good for them. But what about the other 69.6 percent? What about the 4,351,000 Americans 25 years and over who are unemployed and have no education beyond high school, if that?  

Some globalization-enthusiasts argue the United States doesn’t have a large enough labor pool to compete for apparel manufacturing jobs with China or India. Others say America has moved beyond unskilled manufacturing altogether. According to yesterday’s New York Times, “a revolution in manufacturing employment seems far-fetched. Most of the factory jobs lost over the last three decades in this country are gone for good. In truth, they are not even very good jobs.” Ouch. Tell that to Orwigsburg, Pennsylvania based apparel manufacturer FesslerUSA. According to Textile World:

FesslerUSA’s roots trace back to 1900, when Walter Meck, grandfather of the current CEO Walter Meck, left the family farm and founded M & Co., a cotton underwear manufacturer in the Pennsylvania Dutch riverport of Schuylkill Haven.

Now a supplier of knitted fabrics and apparel for more than 100 brands, FesslerUSA employs about 150 people. These workers produce over 100,000 garments a week at the company’s 150,000-square-foot, vertically integrated manufacturing facility. A custom software program drives the entire manufacturing process. Although its laces and elastics are sourced overseas, all of the company’s design services, knitting, cutting, sewing, folding, packing and final processing are in-house. Dyeing and finishing is done by a local dyer with whom the company has done business for 40 years. Yarn and trims are bought from manufacturers in North Carolina and Allentown, PA.

If FesslerUSA can do this sort of thing on a small scale, why can’t American companies that mass produce apparel overseas–Levi’s, Gap, Chico’s, Target, Walmart–do so on a larger scale here, too?

Betsy Stevenson, one-time chief economist at the Labor Department who spoke with The New York Times  for its in-depth look at Apple, Inc., doesn’t sound hopeful. “Companies once felt an obligation to support American workers, even when it wasn’t the best financial choice. That’s disappeared. Profits and efficiency have trumped generosity.”

An unnamed Apple executive quoted in the same NYT piece underscores Stevenson’s pessimistic observations: “‘We sell iPhones in over a hundred countries. We don’t have an obligation to solve America’s problems. Our only obligation is to making the best product possible.’” Double ouch. Take that, unemployed Americans. Yet anyone with a stock portfolio can’t chastise Mr. Unnamed Apple Executive. More profits, if you please, sir.

I wonder: Can we still have it all? Profits, efficiency, and generosity? Consider this, from Bonnie Meck, COO, FesslerUSA:

When we say ‘family,’ we mean more than just immediate family; I consider every one of my employees to be part of my family. We think the key to running a successful business is not just making money, but making sure the needs of our employees–our family–are being met. Employee welfare is a very important part of sustaining a company.

Company executives like Bonnie Meck–and yes, more are out there–make me optimistic about future job prospects for our currently unemployed, undereducated 69.6 percent. We are all interconnected. If these folks can provide for themselves and their children, participate in our economy, see proof that they are, as Ms. Meck says, “important,” our society as a whole will benefit.

PS: By the way, in its piece about Apple, The New York Times estimates that iPhones manufactured here in the USA would cost consumers about $65 more per phone. If you haven’t yet, please read the entire enlightening piece. Well worth your time. Would you be willing to pay $65 more for a Made in the USA iPhone?

Now that 2011 has ended, Don and I are free to return to German-owned Trader Joe’s to shop. I used to run in there almost daily for everything: milk, eggs, bread, fruits, veggies, sunflowers. On January 3, 2012, Don returned  to his pre-CAMJ routine, no problem. He bought a Trader Joe’s salad for lunch and never looked back. I’ve resisted. It’s been months since I set foot in the place; why go now?

And so on Sunday afternoon, when I needed to pick up ingredients for dinner, I skipped TJ’s and headed over to family-owned and operated Lunardi’s. I entered the place feeling downright smug about my one-year accomplishment. Imports are for schmucks with no impulse control. I am so above that sort of behavior. I was the living, breathing embodiment of that time-honored aphorism: Pride goeth before the fall.

Indeed it doth.

In the fish department fresh, gorgeous, caught-in-the-U.S.A. choices awaited my selection: petrale sole, Coho salmon, Dungeness crab. But the crabs were too small (under two pounds each) and the Coho, although a beautiful deep orange color, contained zero fat and therefore (in my opinion) zero moisture or flavor. The petrale sole would have been delicious baked, but Don and I hoped to barbeque since the weather had been temperate and un-January-ish all day. The salmon from Norway beckoned. Nicely marbled, as always. Perfect for grilling. And oh so good with a big dollop of lemon-yogurt dill sauce. “The Norwegian salmon filet, a tail piece, please,” I told the guy behind the counter. And just like that, Mrs. Smug said yes to imports.

Pushing the cart toward the produce section–my Norwegian salmon now wrapped in white butcher paper–I justified my purchase. It’s not so much impulse buying as doing my part to improve international relations with Norway. It’s not so much a betrayal as a mindful choice.

Ah, so it begins. The rationalizations. The denials. The magical thinking. I’ll be much better in the produce department.

Looking over the ginger root from Brazil (for the butternut squash soup I planned to make in a couple of days), I reminded myself that there’s nothing inherently wrong with buying imports. My own father, the inspiration for this blog, didn’t necessarily endorse a protectionist approach. In the early 1970s, when he began writing “Import Backlash and the Unemployment Crunch,” he proposed our country create something he called an “Import-Export-Equity-Exchange.” This Exchange would, Dad argued, promote a balanced flow of imports and exports to and from the United States. Using his typewriter and a felt tip marker, he designed an intricate flow chart (which nowadays would be a Power Point presentation) that showed how our country’s Exchange would work:

Using Dad’s system, my Norwegian salmon purchase wouldn’t be anything to fret about. Thanks to the Import-Export-Equity-Exchange, somewhere in Norway folks would be buying products (perhaps almonds from California, apples from Washington State, cheese from Wisconsin) imported from the U.S.A. It would all be positive, free flowing, even-steven. Such a lovely concept. In our computerized world (which Dad, with his creative-engineer mind, foresaw), surely some clever Silicon Valley genius could come up with an Import-Export-Equity-Exchange software program, right?   

And so I bought the Brazilian ginger and Norwegian salmon–Dad’s Flow Chart dancing in my head–but also filled my cart with plenty of American goods: Frost Kissed Artichokes from Ocean Mist Farms in Castroville, California; Gee Whiz Cripps Pink apples from Washington State; a loaf of Pugliese from Grace Baking Company in Richmond, California; locally grown carrots, parsley, spinach, onions and leeks. The butternut squash, given to me by a friend, had been harvested in late autumn on a farm in Woodland, California.

Our Sunday night meal was outstanding. Perhaps because we hadn’t had Norwegian salmon–cooked on our U.S.A.-made Weber grill–in such a long time, it tasted better than ever. As we did the dishes, I told Don about Dad’s flow chart. Don laughed. “Sounds pretty complicated, but knowing Geno he had it all figured out.” So true.

In the meantime, until our country comes up with a solid solution to the half-trillion dollar trade deficit and resultant unemployment, why not take matters into our own hands? If we American consumers could commit to making even 25 percent of our purchases Made in the U.S.A., we could eliminate our country’s trade deficit and stimulate job creation. Consumer awareness is our first line of defense. We need to notice where that fresh asparagus or boneless pork roast or yes, salmon originated. If they didn’t originate here, that’s ok if the rest of our purchases are products of the U.S.A. 

Seems simple enough, right? But what if there are no labels, no signs posted in produce bins or on meats telling us those products’ places of origination? That, my fellow Americans, may all too soon be a reality. More to come.

PS: A few readers have asked if Don and I like our Made in the U.S.A. EdenPure infrared heater (approximate cost: $400 + tax). Don: “It’s great. It’s quiet and heats the room really quickly. I don’t think it’s worth $400–you can get space heaters so much cheaper than that–but if you have little kids in the house maybe it is because it’s super safe. Hands down the safest space heater we’ve ever owned.” I, too, like the heater and agree that it seems overpriced compared to similar China-made products (which are not, however, infrared heat). My complaints are that (1) there’s no way to tell the actual temperature; it uses a bar system–when all the bars are lit, it’s at maximum heat, temperature unknown but I’m guessing around 68-70 degrees. (2) It doesn’t heat up high enough for me (the way those cheap but terrific space heaters do); again, you can’t crank it up to 80 degrees because there are no digital temperature settings.

EdenPure infared heater update: It’s been almost a month since I posted the comments above. As I write this, the now-beloved heater sends gentle warmth toward me. Not too hot, not too stifling. Not too noisy. Just right. What was I thinking back in January, touting cheap China space heaters?  Truth is, it’s best to live with a new appliance for a while to accurately assess its quality. And so in the interest of honesty and fairness: two thumbs-up for EdenPure. What I especially like is that the heater has wheels. It glides effortlessly and silently from one room to another (a nice feature when I’m sneaking it away from Don). We’re thinking of buying a second one. Yes, for $400. And that, my friends, is a ringing endorsement for an American-made product.

Researchers say it takes twenty-one days to form a new habit. That’s astonishing. Only three weeks? Wow. I guess the toughest part is actually committing to make a change. Indecision–that tortured limbo–can go on indefinitely until some unpredictable, subtle internal shift occurs. We reach a tipping point. The status quo will no longer do, something has to give. It’s time to change. 

As those who’ve followed this blog for the past year know, my tipping point arrived on Thanksgiving Day, 2010, during a brief conversation with my 91-year-old Dad. Suffering from esophageal cancer, Dad could barely swallow. Thin but tanned and dapper in a cashmere sweater and pressed grey slacks, he sat on his favorite leather recliner, tried to eat a cherry popsicle. He took a bite, tried to swallow, spit up what he’d just gotten down. He finally handed the melting treat over to me. “Got any turkey?” he asked. I shook my head. “No, Dad. We’re having soup this year, remember?” My eight siblings and I figured we’d have soup for Thanksgiving dinner, too, rather than torment Dad with the aroma of a turkey roasting in the oven. If he couldn’t eat turkey and stuffing, we wouldn’t either. But how to take his mind off food?

“Hey, Dad, remember in the 1970s when you wrote that paper called ‘Import Backlash’? You were so fired up about offshore manufacturing.” He nodded and half-smiled. Even a half-smile was better than nothing. I went on. “Back then things were beginning to be made in Japan. Now seems like everything’s made in China. Know what I mean? Do we even make anything here anymore? Maybe I should only buy American products for a year or something. Write about it.” Dad nodded again, smiled weakly. Then he said: “Now can I have some turkey?”

Two days later, after Don and I had returned home to the Bay Area, Dad passed away.

This project began as a tangible way to mourn Dad’s passing; to read his “Import Backlash” words, to channel his presence, to hear him. It quickly took on a broader scope, as folks across the country–stung by high unemployment and a nasty recession–awakened to the very concerns Dad had written about over three decades ago. Suddenly everyone wanted to save American manufacturing. ”China Ate My Jeans,” the private journey, gave voice to a public trend. ABC Nightly News, too, jumped on the Made in America bandwagon. Who could have predicted that would ever happen? I just wish Dad could’ve been here to witness the phenomenon.

As December, 2011, neared its end, Don and I joked with friends and family that we’d probably wake up on New Year’s Day, buy heaps of China loot at the nearest mall and never look back. On the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, in fact, I scoped out women’s shoes at Nordstrom, tried on a pair of sale-priced Steve Madden grey leather boots (Made in China). They looked and felt great. Women’s boots simply aren’t Made in America anymore, at least that I know of. “Maybe I’ll be back in the morning,” I told the salesperson. “I need to think it over.”

Almost a week later, I’m still thinking. No new Steve Maddens. No new clothes. No new iPod, although I lost my old one months ago. Habits, once rooted, aren’t easily undone. My resolution’s officially ended, but now what?

Yesterday, on the Twelfth Day of Christmas, my true love sent to me a message on our answering machine: “Honey? You there? I need to get to Nordstrom before it closes. My shoes have had it.”

So much for partridges in pear trees and drummers drumming.

As regular readers also know, Don’s been amazingly supportive of this project. He has alerted me to manufacturing news, listened to my blog posts, urged me to keep going. He has worn t-shirts emblazoned with “China Ate My Jeans” to the gym. He has read labels religiously–even cheerfully–and put foreign-made products back on store shelves. He’s stuck to a difficult yearlong resolution made by me, not him. Add to that his own twelve-hour-plus workdays, dressed in shoes so worn that the bottoms had holes in them months ago. But he held off buying new ones, knowing the affordable brands were manufactured Anywhere But Here.

But yesterday, with the New Year safely here, Don’s own tipping point had finally arrived. He’d been a very good boy. He needed new shoes. Off he went after dinner. I called to him as he walked out the back door: “Good luck! May the Consumer Force be with you!”

An hour later (he has a low threshold for shopping) he returned home, Nordstrom bag in hand. He plunked it down on the kitchen table, pulled out two boxes. “The Allen Edmonds were Made in the U.S.A. The Cole Haan’s were Made in India. The Cole Haan’s were on sale for $99.90. The Allen Edmonds cost $235.00, but they’re so much more comfortable than the others. Hey, at least I spent the majority of my money on something Made in the U.S.A.”

Seriously. The guy should get a medal.  

Will this project continue? How can it not? We’ve grown accustomed to seeing Made in the U.S.A. on most of our purchases. There are stories to tell, items to buy, frustrations to share. The bottom line? There’s more to come.

But you knew that, right?

Happy New Year!