It is the waking that kills us. - Sir Thomas Browne
My first sense memory of Mount Carroll is the sound of my friend and current host (along with his more than patient wife, Julie) Dave Cuckler singing and playing the guitar:
One of the reasons why this place still retains some resonance for me is that I relearned something crucial here. I relearned that people, when given the chance, can get together and do the right thing, and that people will often be kind if given the opportunity. This place, like me, is a bit quixotic. There are musicians and artists and artisans and writers of all kinds -- some who are from here and some who migrated here for one of any number of reasons and stayed because there's just something about the place.
I also relearned that the rate of goodness or badness of most anyplace is directly proportional to the amount of time and effort you're willing to put in to it.
My temporary return to this place has been the mixture I anticipated. My friends, many of whom were not happy with my leaving, are happy to see me now that I've come back for a bit. The stories of my departure were varied and vague... which was deliberate on my part. The thing I've noticed is that it all gets easier to talk about the more I talk about it. And because I've been visiting friends along the way, I got to talk about it quite a bit more than if I had stayed around town -- which, I'm convinced, would have made things far worse than they need to be.
It's true I ran low on funds... even though people have been more than generous in regards to donating to the travel fund. But I could've huddled somewhere else and prepared for more traveling. I came back here in part to plan, and because I missed my friends and the sounds of the music.
I still don't know what that means. I'm still not sure if I'm going to be filing for divorce, or if she is. That depends largely on finances and partly on finding the emotional will to get it done.
Even though it's a thoroughly civil separation -- in as much as such a excising can be civil -- it's not without pain. And I expected it to be a little uncomfortable at times. I expected it to be painful. And I have moments when it is. Mostly because I don't know how not to care and how not to worry about her.
The only thing I have going for me in this regard is that I'm probably way more selfish down deep than I generally like to admit; and I'll admit to being fairly selfish. I don't know how you can be a writer, or an artist, and not be a little selfish with your time. The trick, I'm finding, is making sure to maintain a watchful eye and maintain a social conscience. And lately, that hasn't been too difficult. Between visits to D.C. and New York, keeping up with various Occupy movements across the country that are preparing for Spring, and being vary aware that the over this past weekend around 80 different tornadoes struck a large part of Midwest -- near where I was only weeks ago. The death count is around 30.
And, as if efforts weren't hampered enough, parts of Indiana and Kentucky were hit overnight with snow.
Meditating on this lends me perspective. Mount Carroll, like every other small town, has it's share of drama, infighting, and bullshit. Most of it driven into the public (notably on the City Council) by longstanding bitter rivalries, gossip, and underlying control issues that blossom into full fledged factions, cutting up the town, dividing friends and sometimes family, and doing more to slow the necessary growth and change that will enable this town to survive than the myopic, self-serving Agribusiness controlled County Board -- of which I have even less positive things to say than I do the City Council, which tends to resemble an Elementary School cafeteria, minus the lousy food. It's all words and hollow rhetoric with juvenile digs that gets tossed around.
My first sense memory of Mount Carroll is the sound of my friend and current host (along with his more than patient wife, Julie) Dave Cuckler singing and playing the guitar:
One of the reasons why this place still retains some resonance for me is that I relearned something crucial here. I relearned that people, when given the chance, can get together and do the right thing, and that people will often be kind if given the opportunity. This place, like me, is a bit quixotic. There are musicians and artists and artisans and writers of all kinds -- some who are from here and some who migrated here for one of any number of reasons and stayed because there's just something about the place.
I also relearned that the rate of goodness or badness of most anyplace is directly proportional to the amount of time and effort you're willing to put in to it.
My temporary return to this place has been the mixture I anticipated. My friends, many of whom were not happy with my leaving, are happy to see me now that I've come back for a bit. The stories of my departure were varied and vague... which was deliberate on my part. The thing I've noticed is that it all gets easier to talk about the more I talk about it. And because I've been visiting friends along the way, I got to talk about it quite a bit more than if I had stayed around town -- which, I'm convinced, would have made things far worse than they need to be.
It's true I ran low on funds... even though people have been more than generous in regards to donating to the travel fund. But I could've huddled somewhere else and prepared for more traveling. I came back here in part to plan, and because I missed my friends and the sounds of the music.
I found myself talking about this place a lot on the road... maybe more than I've ever talked about any place I've ever lived, including New Orleans. (And I loved and still love New Orleans.)
But I also came back because I have to settle up; that is, I need to finish the recent past so that it's not hanging over me in the future... which means coming back temporarily, finding someplace to store my books and various sundry things until I figure out where to put them long term, and tie up the other loose ends of my marriage.
Typing that paragraph just now, I noticed how much easier it is to type the utterance than it (still) is to say...
"and tie up the loose ends of my marriage."
I still don't know what that means. I'm still not sure if I'm going to be filing for divorce, or if she is. That depends largely on finances and partly on finding the emotional will to get it done.
Or maybe I have that backwards. It's possible.
Even though it's a thoroughly civil separation -- in as much as such a excising can be civil -- it's not without pain. And I expected it to be a little uncomfortable at times. I expected it to be painful. And I have moments when it is. Mostly because I don't know how not to care and how not to worry about her.
The only thing I have going for me in this regard is that I'm probably way more selfish down deep than I generally like to admit; and I'll admit to being fairly selfish. I don't know how you can be a writer, or an artist, and not be a little selfish with your time. The trick, I'm finding, is making sure to maintain a watchful eye and maintain a social conscience. And lately, that hasn't been too difficult. Between visits to D.C. and New York, keeping up with various Occupy movements across the country that are preparing for Spring, and being vary aware that the over this past weekend around 80 different tornadoes struck a large part of Midwest -- near where I was only weeks ago. The death count is around 30.
And, as if efforts weren't hampered enough, parts of Indiana and Kentucky were hit overnight with snow.
Meditating on this lends me perspective. Mount Carroll, like every other small town, has it's share of drama, infighting, and bullshit. Most of it driven into the public (notably on the City Council) by longstanding bitter rivalries, gossip, and underlying control issues that blossom into full fledged factions, cutting up the town, dividing friends and sometimes family, and doing more to slow the necessary growth and change that will enable this town to survive than the myopic, self-serving Agribusiness controlled County Board -- of which I have even less positive things to say than I do the City Council, which tends to resemble an Elementary School cafeteria, minus the lousy food. It's all words and hollow rhetoric with juvenile digs that gets tossed around.
It's a good thing that they, like the County Board, are only as necessary as people let them be. And at this point, I wonder why we bother with either one.
Since returning, I've remembered the things I HAVEN'T missed... the juvenile and puerile political leadership, especially... and I'm thinking about pushing my trip up to see if I can go down to Kentucky and Do Something, rather than sit here and Think About It.
That also means getting my shit together here, and quick.
By the way... THIS GUY is an ASSHOLE. Pat Robertson is blaming the people for building houses where there are sometimes tornadoes. Also, he says the people didn't pray enough.
I only point this particular idjit* out in order to illustrate the difference between humanity and douche baggery.. Luckily, I still find more humanity than I do douche baggery. Mount Carroll resonates with humanity, in spite of the back biters that infect local government** and greedy assholes who run the county^.
And it's precisely that humanity that echoes in the songs played by my friend Dave and by other musicians, (who I will mention by name soon enough), and in the art done by friends like Heather Houzenga that will make my short stay more pleasant than it would be anywhere else as I plan the next step.
* For a proper definition, look in The Parsons Dictionary of Often Used Words and Phrases.
** There are one or two people of note who are not idjits. Since I'm not naming any names, I can't name you. But hopefully, Doug and Tom (oops!) you know who you are.
^I'm referring directly to a few people here... but the county is run by three of the 15 current members anyway. And since I've written about them ad naseum when I wrote for The Prairie Advocate News, I won't name them here. No. Really ... Fritz, Rahn, and Riebel. (Oops.)
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My exit window, for the moment, is still 3/21-4/1, though I'l go back through Kentucky before I head west.]