There's a lot to think about in there. What resonated with me is the comment on drifting young people. I must be one of those people. Every time I visit a place, I become convinced that I want to move there. Every time I've been forced (thanks, military) to move somewhere against my will, I find out that it's usually a lot better than I had thought it would be."I mean the independence by which a person provides some of his own needs and which permits him to do what he sees to be right without the approval of a crowd. That's why Thomas Jefferson said you need to keep as many people as possible on the land. That's necessary for democracy. You need to keep people independent in the way that the ownership and care of a piece of land can make them.
If the ideals and aims of young people have lost energy, it's because they haven't the stability of a commitment to one place and one community. I think they're disposed to drift around until they find a suitable community. But no community is suitable. There's plenty wrong with them all. I could construct an airtight argument for not settling in my own community. The fact is that I'm spending my life constructing an argument for being here. [author's emphasis] "
Interestingly enough, when we went "home" (I have many places that I will at times refer to as home, which is an interesting concept in itself) to Kentucky for my Grandmothers funeral, I spent several weeks thinking about home. What makes a place home? It's where you learn skills, where you have memories of loved ones, where you know the smell of the changing weather, where the local dialect and idiosyncrasies are comfortable (even if simultaneously amusing). It's where you have a connection to.
The surprising part is that the fond memories that I have of rural western Kentucky are very similar to the memories that my husband has of rural Oahu. We had some long discussions about this, and came to the conclusion that it is the "rural" part of that statement which is so important. It was an "ah-hah" moment. We like rural places. We just didn't realize it.
During our discussions, we also realized that while we have these fond memories of rural life - summers with our grandparents - our children will not have that experience. Both of our parents live in suburbia (as do we, but we're more on the edge in a rural farming community that is currently changing). Both of our parents are the first generation to live where they live- my parents are about a thousand miles from where they grew up. My husband's parents are 2,600 miles from where they grew up. There is no depth of knowledge in these places, and I find it very sad. I'm sure that there are a great many families like ours with disjointed connections with place. It's hard to feel that need for community if your family has no history with a place. Our generation is the result of our parents drifting, and who, among my contemporaries, even thinks about community? I mentioned it to a friend the other day, and got a "what are you talking about" reaction - a complete blank stare followed by the unsettling feeling that she was questioning my mental stability.
The idea of community has been a common theme for me recently. Perhaps it has to do with the decision to have a child. Perhaps it's the re-localization group. Perhaps it's the passing of my grandmother and the drama that surrounded her funeral, or it could be what I am now referring to as "my wee-little cancer scare." At any rate, I've very suddenly realized how important community can be, and should be. I've considered going back to church (mainly for the yet to be conceived child) - I was raised a UU, so it's not quite as incongruous with my personality as you might think. I guess I'm finding that there is something that is missing, but instead of moving on to find it, I'm trying to built it where I am.
In More Deliberate Everyday, the author also posted another interview with Wendell Berry regarding old timers, and how they tell the same stories over and over again as a way to reaffirm their acquaintances from the past, and how the stories improve just a little bit with each telling. This is no small point - both my husband's & my grandparents were rural old timers in a farming community. No wonder we feel a connection with those rural places - we hung out with the old folks, and absorbed their connections, their stories. Which, in some cases, had grown to be preposterous.
So maybe we've ended up where we have not completely by accident, and maybe it shouldn't be so surprising that we're pretty happy here, despite my husbands long commute into the city everyday. Maybe I shouldn't be so shocked that we're actually considering staying here for a good long time. Have I just come to the conclusion that no place is fully suitable and the realization that I need to make do?
It occurs to me that I don't know who Wendell Berry is. Apparently, he's a Kentucky man, but from the north-central part of Kentucky, which might as well be a different planet from western Kentucky. He's a writer of various forms, but a common theme seems to deal with the connection on has to a place. He's also dealt with organic farming, and criticized industrial farming. An interesting guy, to say the least - go look at his wiki page for a better idea. I'm going to have to track down some of his work, I think.
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