"A fruit that tastes like dirt is suddenly a sweet money maker in Brazil," reports Seth Kugel in the New York Times (2/24/10). We're talking about acai, long a dietary staple of poor, rural Brazilians, and now "riding the wave of the antioxidant craze and rain-forest chic." Demand for acai, which grow on palm trees and look like great, big blueberries, is way up in recent years. Traditionally, it is served as porridge, but now it is finding its way into everything from Snapple beverages to pizza crusts and even beauty products. Surfers use it in smoothies, for an energy boost.

Leticia Galvao, a Brazilian, finds this funny, since acai tends to make her sleepy. "Generally, when you have acai here, you take a nap," she says. Maybe it depends how much sugar you add -- locals, especially older, more rural folks, like their acai straight up, which is said to "taste like dirt. Making matters worse, the manioc flour that's often mixed in to thicken it has the consistency of sand." But acai's growing popularity has been a real boon, economically, for Brazil's acai growers. "Two or three years ago, we had a lot of trouble selling the product," says Orisvaldo Ferreira de Souza, an acai farmer.

That's all changed: "Just yesterday, six buyers came by," he says. "We sold 10 baskets each to two of them." Orisvaldo can now afford to "buy meat and chicken in town," put a motor on his boat and acquire a television set. Such success has had a negative effect, however, on urban poor families, for whom acai is "a valuable source of nutrition." Prices have gone up, although for now, acai consumption among the poor hasn't slowed; they simply thin it down a bit. "Fifteen years ago, it was like beans for us," says Joao Manuel. "Now it's more expensive than beans. We eat it just the same; it's only now that we feel it in our wallets."

Now that the recession is nearly two years old, it could end simply because we decide it's time for it to end, suggests Robert J. Shiller in the New York Times (11/22/09). After all, most recessions last about two years, and the whole psychology of a recession is that it's part of a normal cycle that has a beginning, a middle and an end. Unless, of course, it isn't. The term "recession" emerged in 1938, as a less fearsome alternative to "the Great Depression, which received its name ... from a 1934 book with that title (link) by Lionel Robbins."

President Roosevelt wasn't exactly into the semantics: "It makes no difference to me whether you call it a recession or a depression," he said at the time. The Chicago Daily Tribune, meanwhile, dismissed recession "as a new word for depression, coined by those who don't like to admit that we're still in one." But there is a difference between the words, if only in our heads. A "recession" sounds like it "can be shrugged off as something from which you recover, as though your doctor had just diagnosed an illness as a common cold."

A "depression," however suggests a far more serious condition, and one that probably won't end anytime soon, if ever. "In important ways," writes Robert, "we are still using that 1930s pattern of thinking. We are instinctively fearful of reckless talk about depressions, and we try to support one another's confidence ... For now, our common efforts at building confidence appear to be working somewhat." And perhaps the only thing we have to fear is not fear itself, but rather "the nagging doubt afloat that the current event is really just another example in that long sequence of recessions."

Corner grocery stores, long viewed as a cause of obesity, are increasingly seen as a solution, reports Kevin Granville in the New York Times (11/2/09). In Newark, for instance, city officials are treating Francisco Baez to two new refrigerators, to be installed at the front of his small grocery store and filled with fruits and vegetables. Because of his can-do attitude, Francisco was chosen from among 80 local grocers as the first to try replacing junk food with fresh food. He simply likes "the idea of offering customers an expanded selection of produce."

He also likes the new, checkout scanner system he was given to sweeten the deal. The Newark program is similar to those in other cities, in which "public health organizations and economic development agencies" offer "new equipment, marketing expertise or neighborhood promotions to encourage them to stock more fresh produce, whole wheat bread and other healthy offerings." In New York City, for example, the "Healthy Bodegas" program so far "has reached out to 1,000 stores in a variety of ways, including helping owners secure zoning permits to allow fruit and vegetable displays on the sidewalk."

Such programs have gained currency because cities have largely failed to attract major supermarkets that might introduce healthier grocery options into poor, city neighborhoods. Newark, a city of 279,000, has just three supermarkets, for example. It's a lot riskier selling fresh produce than packaged chips, obviously, and not necessarily more profitable. But Francisco Baez isn't worried about that: "Will I make any more money? I have no idea," he shrugs. Anne Gross, a participating grocer in Cleveland is similarly altruistic: "Even if it changes a couple of people's habits it would be a huge benefit," she says.

Loretta Gendville is building her own retail empire in her own Brooklyn neighborhood, reports Diane Cardwell in the New York Times (9/21/09). Within the space of just a few blocks of her home, Loretta has opened a yoga studio, day spa, children's clothing shop and a toy store -- all under the brand name, "Area." Loretta is not the only one: "Little empires of restaurants, bars, clothing stores and other establishments started by homegrown entrepreneurs have multiplied in this patch of Brownstone Brooklyn, sending up sprouts every few blocks."

Raymond Keating, chief economist of the Small Business and Entrepreneurship Council, says the idea of "opening related but slightly different outposts in close proximity has allowed owners to diversify and 'tap into these customers in a variety of different ways' without necessarily cannibalizing their existing trade. In addition, he said, diversification can help business owners survive in tough times, as gains in one shop offset declines in another." Loretta isn't sure the idea would work as well elsewhere, though.

"In Brooklyn, people stay in their neighborhood -- you have your one or two parks you go to and your coffee shops," she says. Her neighborhood also is home to affluent, educated types, while offering lots of small storefront space at affordable rates. However, Scott Stringer, the Manhattan borough president, would like to "spur similar kinds of economic development in his borough," because, he says, this type of local enterprise is better for the local economy than having national retailers. "The cluster retail model really works," he says.

"Vietnam is one of the most exciting beer markets in the world today," says Walter Bocker in a Wall Street Journal piece by James Hookway (9/15/09). Walter is with Gannon Group, which is "Anheuser-Busch's Vietnam-based partner." He is joined in his enthusiasm by Carlsberg, Heineken and SAB Miller, each of which has a joint-venture going in Vietnam. Collectively, these foreign brewers have put Vietnam's state-run beer enterprises on the run, but not for long, perhaps. Never underestimate the potential of socialized beer.

Local, "state-invested Vietnamese brewers," such as "Hanoi-based Habeco and Ho Chi Minh City's Sabeco are readying themselves for a fight." Their strategy centers on providing something the imports do not -- specifically a local specialty called "bia hoi, which translates as 'fresh beer,' a relatively low-alcohol, bitter brew with a shelf life of a few days that makes up 30 percent of the beer market" in Vietnam. Bia hoi costs "about a third the price of an international brand," and first became popular during the U.S. Vietnam war, when there wasn't enough glass to make bottles.

To this day, Bia hoi is "sold only in kegs, delivered early each morning to hundreds of side-street restaurants in Hanoi. By lunchtime, people are tossing back chipped-glass-tumblers of the beer while munching dried squid, fried tofu and other snacks." Habeco, founded in 1890 by French colonials, has seen its sales double between 2004 and 2007. Sabeco's sales have increased to 900 million litres from 500 million between 2006 and 2008. However, foreign brewers see in bia hoi only a quagmire of "low margins and different route-to-market characteristics," and plan to continue to rely on "deep pockets" and traditional marketing techniques.

Woody Tasch thinks "small local farms are the ultimate hedge fund," reports Stephanie Simon in the Wall Street Journal (9/16/09). Woody is a former venture capitalist who believes investors should "put some of their assets into businesses they can see, smell and even taste -- to measure growth not by the flashing numbers on a stock ticker, but by the slow ripening of a tomato." He doesn't pretend that "investing in sustainable local agriculture will yield an enviable return," maybe 3-6 percent over the very long term. He says the real dividend is "diversity."

As Woody sees it, investing in small farms is a way to introduce something different into a marketplace dominated by industrial farms, "where millions of acres are planted with the same variety of corn and millions of pigs are bred to be genetically similar." Small farms meanwhile "preserve heirloom seeds and quirky breeds; strengthen the soil with organic nutrients; create local markets that connect producer directly to consumer." A few investors are buying into the slow-money idea, although cautiously.

"I won't lie -- it's a scary thing," says Martin Lindstrom, a Rockefeller heir, who says that giving his money to a goat farmer feels like "jumping off a cliff." Even some of the farmers aren't so sure about they idea: "Specifically, they fear deep-pocketed local investors will demand a say in management decisions." They're also afraid that "small-sum investors" will swamp them "with requests for tours and samples." Some feel they're better off with a traditional bank loan. But Woody Tasch, who has written a book about his idea, "Inquiries into the Nature of Slow Money," seeks a million people to join him. "We must bring money down to earth," he says.

With France's GDP shrinking by about three percent, French President Nicolas Sarkozy thinks it's time to find another way to measure prosperity, reports David Gautheir-Villars in the Wall Street Journal (9/15/09). Sarkozy says it's not enough simply to measure economic output, and of course he's not the first to say so. Back in 1968, Robert F. Kennedy noted that GDP "counts napalm and counts nuclear warheads." His point was that these weren't exactly leading indicators of economic health. Sarkozy believes that well-being should also be measured, somehow.

Hm. Maybe if he counted Carla Bruni ... Sarkozy actually has been working with a group known as the Stiglitz Commission, led by Nobel Prize-winning economist Joseph Stiglitz to come up with ways to measure well-being. So, far, the commission recommends "tracking household income and consumption." The commission also suggests that, over the long-term, "governments must pay more attention to sustainability to determine what level of well-being can be maintained for future recommendations."

Of course, adding in a "well-being" factor "would likely paint a rosier picture of the economy in France, where workers take long vacations and have generous social-security benefits." But Joseph Stiglitz says the real key is to figure out what to measure. "What we measure affects what we do," he says. "If we have the wrong measures, we will strive for the wrong things." The commission therefore suggests "that each country comes up with its own basket of indicators" based on its objectives, rather than create a universal "composite indicator to replace GDP."

In "Rasselas," Samuel Johnson tells the story of a young prince who leaves his perfect life to find happiness, writes Charles E. Pierce Jr. in the Wall Street Journal (9/11/09). Johnson would have been 300 years old this month, and Rasselas, a short novel, was published in 1759. Johnson wrote the book "in a single week to pay the expenses of his mother's funeral, using the convention of an innocent man on a quest as a vehicle to express his deepest moral convictions."

"Arriving in Cairo, Rasselas is dazzled by the people he sees, but quickly is disappointed by the disparity between what he imagines and what he finds to be true. Neither the young nor the old, the rich nor the poor, the philosopher nor the astronomer, the married nor the celibate, enjoy happiness. He also sees examples of loneliness, madness and violence." Eventually, he concludes that "life is everywhere a state in which much is to be endured and little to be enjoyed."

In the book's final chapter, called "The Conclusion in Which Nothing is Concluded," Rasselas realizes that no "single choice of life" will bring happiness, that the "nature of desire makes the acquisition of happiness impossible." As Johnson wrote in an essay, "we desire, we pursue, we obtain, we are satiated; we desire something else and begin a new pursuit." A tragic cycle, perhaps, but also a necessary one, because, "for us to remain healthy, productive and sane, we must continue our quest."

It looked like it was over for Jim and Bill Gerken when Comerica Bank killed their $13 million credit line about a year ago, reports Nanette Byrnes in BusinessWeek (8/3/09). Jim and Bill are cousins, and the fourth generation of family running Norwalk Furniture, a high-end furniture maker in Norwalk, Ohio. They needed the credit line to keep their factory open and more than 300 workers employed. Sales had plummeted because of "the housing bust, Chinese competition, its own poor judgment and the credit crunch." Comerica had problems of its own, of course, with its quarterly net income having dropped 71 percent from the previous year.

Jim and Bill had no choice but to close their factory, but the town's mayor, Sue Lesch, was not about to let that happen because Norwalk Furniture "was not only the largest factory in town -- their were the best jobs in town." She began badgering Comerica to reinstate the company's credit line and lobbying "state officials for a loan and to hunt up potential buyers." A factory worker, Kim Gross, meanwhile organized a protest march, complete with sofas and chairs aloft, at Comerica's headquarters. The resulting media attention was too much for Comerica, which within hours "agreed to meet with potential buyers."

An investor group was found, and the state of Ohio offered a $1.8 million loan -- but then the investor group fell apart. Miraculously, a group of 12 local families, led by Daniel J. White, made a bid and bought the plant for $4 million. Daniel, whose family has lived in Norwalk for more than 100 years, says he acted out of concern for the community, although other investors simply saw a good investment. "If our community benefits, then we benefit," says investor Tom Bliele. With Daniel as CEO, the company is now expected "to generate more than $25 million in sales by 2011, less than half the level it once enjoyed, but far more sustainable."

"Upon the advent of gays and lesbians, a rich array of shops almost invariably follow," writes Joseph Epstein in the Wall Street Journal (7/16/09). Joseph is speaking specifically of Andersonville, a "revived Chicago neighborhood, once chiefly Swedish working class, on whose main thoroughfare, Clark Street, reside a charming gallimaufry of odd shops and non-franchise restaurants." The neighborhood contrasts sharply with nearby Evanston, which is about three miles north of Andersonville, and is where Joseph grew up and still lives.

Back in the day, says Joseph, Evanston was "teeming with shops." But they faded away, done in, he says, by shopping malls. Joseph also blames Northwestern University students, a "transient class" that he says turned downtown Evanston in to "Taco Bell country ... land of Burger King and the Gap." In his Evanston neighborhood today, Joseph counts "21 restaurants, six coffee shops, five manicurist-pedicurists, four cellphone purveyors, three dry cleaners, two quite good libraries, one multiplex theater and ... a paucity of interesting and useful shops."

Joseph says his late friend Edward Shils, a sociologist, judged "a city by the interesting shops it contained." It's the shops that make New York a great city and perhaps Los Angeles something less. It's the shopkeepers, he suggests, that make a country strong: "Considerable courage and perseverance are required to start and keep a good shop running," he writes. He recalls that Napoleon dismissed England as a "nation of shopkeepers" ... before they kicked his butt at Waterloo. "A nation of shopkeepers, far from being the put-down that Napoleon thought, sounds more and more like an ideal to which a healthy country ought to aspire."