mercuryfern: Posting From the Road

August 23, 2005

Posting From the Road

Look at me, I'm just like a William Gibson character, flitting about the globe, connected to the Internet all the while!

Mere hours ago, I pulled in to my semi-perminant woodland home, then tomorrow I'll head to New York to make the rounds among my legions of fans there before retreating to the forest for the autumn. Last night I had quite the hotel adventure, staying in a room where only some of the lights worked and there was mold on both the floor and ceiling of the bathroom. Because I'd been driving for about 12 hours at that point, I had not the energy to firmly yet politely request both a change of room and a discount, instead crashing out (on top of the sheets). This morning I threw an appropriately subdued hissy fit and got almost half of my money back, which meant I still paid too much, but I began my morning drive feeling victorious.

Long ago, I made peace with the fact that everyplace in this country is the same. Whatever hand wringing was once justified over the impending homogenization of national culture is too late now. When was the last time you could identify the region of origin of someone with whom you were engaged in conversation? My best friends in college were from Maine, Boston, Texas, both Virginias, and upstate New York. Their habits of speech have been indistinguishable from my own since I have known them.

Every rest stop has the same fast food, the same pseudo farmers markets. Every mall sells the same crap in the same displays. Same same same. Everywhere you go, there is too much orange fake bake on everyone's skin, too many aspiring aryans with brittle color stripped hair.

The trick is to expect this, so that when you hear someone in a gas station rest stop outside of Albany mention their vacation to Flahridah, you will remember how everyone in the Ohio cookie factory dreamed of one day moving to Florda where all their problems would be solved, and your heart will leap. When a woman in that same rest stop admonishes her three year old "Don't you *dayah*!" before smacking her bottom with a noise which makes everyone in the place turn, you will be overjoyed that she is disciplining in a regionally specific way.

As I entered the Berkshires, a road sign advertising a cell phone touted that one could get coverage on both coasts *and* in Western Mass. This last is a grandiose claim, as any of the region's plentiful college students can tell you. Even as I thought this the radio station fuzzed out. Oh, right. New England has *mountains*. Speaking of the radio, I picked up the most adorable science programming. The midwest cares not at all about invasive species. How I've missed you, Alan Shartock.

The village where I lived in Ohio is generally considered pretentious. We have this reputation in common, and neither of us puts much energy into disproving it. The reason I love Yellow Springs, though, is that stands against the otherwise all consuming onslaught of bigbox retail. The downtown, at all of two blocks long, is chock full of thriving community supported independant businesses: a drugstore, hardware store, grocery store, barbershop, beauty shop, flower shop, movie theater, bike shop, and three count em three independant bookstores. Admittedly, there is also a head shop and more storefront space full of ridiculous expensive hippy junk than any one town needs. And the restaurant food is boring or expensive. Yes yes, it is a tourist town, and fast becoming a retirement town. And the utilities and taxes are insanely high. Yes.

But. I can buy everything I need within the village, and safely ride my bike to get there. Great Barrington, Quaint New England Village Extrodinaire, can't boast that, nor can any other place else I've ever lived. Don't even make me tell you about he 1k nature preserve and extensive rails to trails which abut the downtown and are less than a mile from all of the residential areas. They’re icing.

I guess I'm a little homesick after pulling up my roots, but I'm a bit defensive, too. My husband never tires of mocking how high falutin the village is. It is a convenient punching bag for anyone in the region with an inkling of class consciousness.

Mostly I'm just grateful for having had the chance to know such an exquisite place. My eyes are open to the different beauty I will see here. I'm trying not to be dismayed at the limited bike transport possibilities implied by the narrow winding roads and sprawling land use patterns. The mountains are stunning. The food is excellent. Historical significance and natural beauty abound.

After this first month of transience, I am sure that where ever I go, part of my heart will always be in that tiny Ohio village: politically progressive, neighborly, and free of sprawl. Contrived white picket fences and bland food not withstanding, it is my home.

Well, one of them anyway.

August 23, 2005 in Actual Real Things Actually Happening Now! | Permalink

Verify your Comment

Previewing your Comment

Posted by: |

This is only a preview. Your comment has not yet been posted.

Your comment could not be posted. Error type:

Your comment has been posted. Post another comment

The letters and numbers you entered did not match the image. Please try again.

As a final step before posting your comment, enter the letters and numbers you see in the image below. This prevents automated programs from posting comments.

Having trouble reading this image? View an alternate.

Sun	Mon	Tue	Wed	Thu	Fri	Sat
				1	2	3
4	5	6	7	8	9	10
11	12	13	14	15	16	17
18	19	20	21	22	23	24
25	26	27	28	29	30	31

mercuryfern

August 23, 2005

Posting From the Road

Comments

Verify your Comment

Previewing your Comment

Post a comment

Recent Posts

Recent Comments

December 2005

Categories

Places to Go, People to See

Writerly Games

Counter

Archives