She's Leaving Home...or, rather, Home's Leaving Her

One of the most bizarre things about growing up in Redneckia is the fact that you can identify with people who experienced the Tennessee Valley Authority.

My mom, who has been widowed for 6 years now, was visited last week from representatives of AEP, who are planning on strip-mining the property all around our place, which is in the woods, 1/4 mile from any neighbor, and surrounded on 3 sides by a 50-foot high wall. Below that are "The Strips." As you can tell by the name, this will not be the first time that money-sucking vultures have raped the valley and the land around us. It is just starting to boast topsoil, grass, and mature trees. When I was quite young, I would pretend it was an African plain, with its wild grass, stunted growth trees, and craggy dirt roads. Of late, though, it's pretending to be a proper new-growth forest. Well, no more.

The TVA part is, because our house (my dad & mom bought the land and added the house in 1980, when I was almost 3) is in the middle of their proposed strip-mining venture, they plan to buy our place. We have about a year left. There wasn't really a request there, because they know and we know that life will be miserable for us if we plan to stay. Our driveway gives access to the only two roads down to the strips, one of which basically goes through our front yard. A neighbor that owns undeveloped stripland below us has already sold (I used to think of him as Ned Flanders - he is now Evil Ned) and has sold logging rights as well, so they're going to start logging off that piece before they strip.

No more silent mornings watching the fog lift over the valley between us and Steubenville, no more quiet walks down to the railroad trestle and creek that was my favorite place to sit, no more deer and wild turkeys camping on our lawn. The apple tree that grew the best tasting apples in the world will be gone, as will our black walnut trees and the squirrel colony that lives there. No more black raspberries in June, no more climbing after cats in the rickety old barn, no more double decker playhouse complete with balcony. My dad died here.

My mom will find another house, and it might be nicer or better. It might even have some of the things that I listed above. But how can a person be expected to give up their childhood so brutally? If they don't bulldoze our place, they'll use it for field offices and equipment storage. I lived here.

First my dad, then my grandmother (and father), now this. My heart is well and truly broken. You can stop now, Loki.

Glimpse of the Past

So it was my Grandparents-in-law's 60th wedding anniversary this weekend, and my husband's family had booked this joint called "The Farm", formerly the Erwin farm, on 150 just outside of good old Mt. P- Ohio (It's going to be a restaurant, but for now you can book it for catered parties.) Although I grew up about 45 minutes from Mt. P-, it was in my school district, and in high school most of my closest friends lived in that area. So I shouldn't have been surprised to run into one of them.

But I was. We had just sat down, after being greeted at the door by a vaguely-familiar looking guy our age, and were waiting to be served our drinks, when I looked up and Melanie S. was at the door to our room. I kicked Lew under the table and jerked my head in her direction, and even he was surprised, which rarely ever happens.

Mel and I had been good friends all through HS, without ever being best friends, until after our freshman year of college. She had spent her frosh year at Wheeling Jesuit and HATED it, as it was far too structured and conservative for her emerging hippie self. I, who had recognized right away the futility of trying to enjoy my college years in a Valley school, had gone to OSU. But we were both in the Valley that summer of '96, free and jobless and pissing off our parents. It was one of the best summers of my life.

We started by going to Myrtle Beach, in early June, with her (sweet, friendly, adorable) cousin Carrie and her other (spoiled, obnoxious, annoying, etc) cousin from A-land whose name thankfully escapes me. We had a blast, while managing to piss off both of her cousins because we would sleep all day, stay up all night on the beach, go out for breakfast, and go to bed. We spent most of our time in head shops and ended up with piercings (her nose, my eyebrow) which was pretty wild for the Valley, and esp. our parents, etc.

We spent the rest of the summer hanging out in D-Vale, a completely sad little Valley town but with a small group of ska-skater punks that DIDN'T include the sort-of-ex boyfriend I was trying to avoid and the formerly preppy friends SHE was trying to avoid, so we loved it. We hung out on the wall by the bank, learned to skateboard (sort of) in the parking lot, scrounged change to get ice cream at Marsili's, and listened to Brian's band practice in the tiny, falling-down-the-hillside 'house' he rented, which was extremely cool as he was 25 (we were both 18) and the only one of us not living with his parents. It was in this group of loveable miscreants that I first met my husband, so that summer will always be a very special one in my heart and memories. Mel and I lost touch after that, as she went off adventuring and I had Lew and didn't need or want anyone else.

So when Mel walked through the door with a tray of Cokes, I was, obviously, shocked. She had moved to Washington state after her wedding six years before, and I had never expected to see her again, as she had always been so vehement about getting out of the Valley.

Turns out she and her husband (the vaguely-familiar guy I had seen earlier) are both working at "The Farm" for cash to support their art careers. They had bought property and chickens, and are attempting to get the money together to buy a kiln. I hadn't talked to her for 3 minutes before she was going on about how much she 'hates everyone here'. The ignorant locals and rednecks, she meant, who wanted her to explain what espresso was when she tried to sell it in her mom's gift shop and who didn't understand her open-minded, West Coast attitude.

The only thought that ran through my head was, 'but honey, you AREN'T open-minded.' For her to hate and be prejudiced against all of the locals we grew up with was just as bad as them disliking her for being a hippie artist with a nose ring. It's annoying, sure, to be home and talking to someone and hear them spouting their racist or misogynistic or homophobic views as if they are common knowledge, but is it any better to have the local kids who went away to get an education return, and instead of using their knowledge to make the place they grew up more like a place they'd want to stay, feel alienated and lash out at the very people who helped them to grow up? A superiority complex isn't pretty, no matter what colors it's painted in.

The upshot is, I was glad and nervous to see her, and I kind of wanted to smack her around a bit. I hope she learns to lighten up, and if I do get to return to live in the valley, I hope that I don't follow in her footsteps. I want to enjoy it, and change it, without necessarily changing the people in it, because despite their 'ignorant redneck' selves, they can also be wise, and loving, and strong, and intelligent, and wonderful. Luckily, I took a geography class in undergrad, and learned the concept of worldview, which has changed me as a person almost more than anything else I learned in school. It should be a requirement.

Trapped

So I love my job and my husband and my dogs and all of that. No doubt. But I am such a restless, flighty person that invariably I can't go three months without wishing that I was somewhere else, doing something else, without someone else.

How is it that other people can be perfectly content to buy a house, go to the same job every day, shop at the same market, for decades and decades? WHY CAN'T I? I've only been in my job four years and it feels like a lifetime. I've lived in <3ville for five years now. i'm going mad with the monotony of it. Looking at the same stupid buildings every single day on my ride to and from work, the same patrons at the library (no matter how much I may like them), etc. etc.


I can't ever enjoy anything. I can't be content with my essentially happy life. I can't even stick to one hobby for more than a week! I don't know why or what to do about it or how to change it. I don't know where I went wrong, and if someone were to ask me what my ideal life would be, every day I would have a different answer. Is that normal? It doesn't feel normal. It frightens me. I want to be happy.

I don't really expect or need anyone to comment on this. It's just a whiny pathetic rant, I know. But it makes me feel better to get it out somewhere. Thanks.

Foul Weather Blogger

Hi! Sorry it's been so long. I use this blog to force myself to write if I have writer's block, but lately I've been writing quite a bit. I haven't needed to blog.

I just booked my Amtrak tickets for my vacation this fall. I'm going to spend a week in South Carolina with my sister, and my brother may be flying in from Phoenix to join us. They both think that I'm insane to take the train when I could get there in about 3 hours by air, but Lewis has this phobia about flying that extends to me, so they'll just have to deal with it.

Besides, I love the train. I sit and stare out of the window and read Paul Theroux's train travelogues and have a grand old time. You meet crazy people in the dining car and can get adorable little 12 oz. bottles of wine in the snack car. You see all of the scummiest parts of towns, and see real life just inches from your window. It's insane how close some houses are to the tracks!

The best example of "the wrong side of the tracks" was El Paso, Texas, which is right on the Mexican border. If you look out of one side of the train, there is a normal American western town. On the other side of the train, there are barb wire fences and dirt roads climbing hillsides simply covered with brightly colored shacks. No traffic lights, sidewalks, or anything like that. English signs on one side of the train, Spanish signs (touting American products) on the other. Unreal.

Anyway, this trip I'll be taking the train from Pittsburgh to Washington, D. C., where I have about 4 hours to kill at the National Arboretum or the Smithsonian or something, and from D.C. to Denmark, S.C., which is so small I can't find any info about it on the net!

So anyway, I haven't forgotten about the blog, I just have so many other things to do and think about and write right now. Like getting ready for work.

Alistair Crowley - Reincarnate

So I've started this Dungeons and Dragons group for my kids. Had one meeting, 12 kids, everyone had a good time. Next meeting's in a week. Out of nowhere, the library is getting complaints from the community about it.

To be honest, what I knew about D&D before I started this program could be fit in a nutshell. I saw an episode of "Freaks & Geeks" where they played it, and some D&D players were arrested on "Reno 911". I knew it was a RPG with funny dice, fantasy elements and a Dungeon Master to run the show. That's about it.

Monday, this chick comes in the library (I wasn't there, thankfully) and asks to speak to the "supervisor of the person that's running that Dungeons and Dragons thing". So she calls my boss, and when I get in later that day they tell me about it. The woman is helping them to research D&D, so that she can be of "further assistance in the stopping of programs such as D&D that are damaging to the children of Mogadore." (That is an exact quote from her email)

Today, we get two more complaints. Apparently, she is calling her friends and fellow church members to put a stop to this evil with which I am trying to brain wash children (none of THEIR children, as they do not even attend library programs). One woman today said that D&D is "opening doors to the occult."

I have researched this myself, and from what I could find out, the only people that have bad things to say about D&D are part of the Christian Reich, and all of their complaints are based on unscientific, 'anecdotal' evidence. I would never do ANYTHING to hurt my kids in any way. I would also never teach them about the occult. Nor would I teach them Christianity. In my mind, they're both about as likely to be true as Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

The point is, Public Libraries are just that, and keep away from any biased programming. We don't want anyone to feel left out. We also get pretty upset if people try to restrict others based on their limited world views and moral values. It's part of the whole free speech, right to assembly thing.

So for those of you out there walking through the mall or grocery store, keep an eye on the pretty little mild-mannered librarian types, as they are probably corrupting America's youth in nefarious ways.

Let's hope so - then maybe the kids won't turn into their narrow-minded parents.

Daisy DungeonMaster

So I've got to learn how to be a DungeonMaster by 5:00pm tonight. Not within the usual job description for a librarian, but hey, I'm nothin' if not kinky. ;-)

Seriously, though, my boys here at the library pestered me about starting a D&D (that's Dungeons and Dragons, to you hip people out there. It's a role-playing game) club. So I'm starting one. I have never played the game, never had much desire, although I thought the dice were pretty cool. That's about as far as I've ever thought about it.

Now, however, I have to hang out for three hours (and it's only the first in a series of 7 meetings) with a dozen teenage boys bent on wreaking havoc and slaying monsters and the like, and I have no idea how to go about it. I'm a pretty creative person, if I do say so myself, and I figured that it wouldn't be all that different from a game of "let's pretend", like when we were little. However, BOYS made up this game, so it is uber-complicated, with (literally) dozens of books devoted to rules and monsters and heroes and their abilities and their weaknesses and it's all numbers and blah blah blah...

You think I would have learned my lesson with the Yu-Gi-Oh! club a few years ago, which was along the same lines, and had EIGHTY boys a week at each meeting, but I assumed that this would not draw a crowd. I was wrong. I am always wrong. I need to stop listening to myself.

Librarians spend tons of money each year going to conferences, buying books, etc etc, to try to figure out how to attract boys to their library. I, on the other hand, can't get rid of them. I think I need to start holding girly programs instead of fun ones, b/c they're (my boys) all driving me crazy. I think that they all have ADHD. Seriously. Even the ones that go smoke pot behind the library before they come in (and it's so cute, they think I'm clueless. Honestly though. Do they REALLY think the Axe Deodorant is going to cover that smell?) are bouncing off the walls with energy. It's like a cage fight everytime they get together, and I'm starting another program. I'm mad.

It won't be long, though. This will be my fourth year, in June, and I will never stay at a job longer than five. I just need to figure out what I want to do next in the next year and a half.

Any ideas?

School of Rock - Now Seeking Adjunct Professors

So my programs at the library are starting up again, and I have to come up with creative, productive, entertaining ways for a bunch of kids age 9-18 to spend their time. I have decided that part of my program this year is going to be "School of Rock".

I don't know how many teenagers you hang out with, but when I was a teenager, WHERE I was a teenager, Classic Rock was pretty much the best music out there. Yeah, the grunge movement had it's moments, but you couldn't really beat the old stuff.

It frightens me how little my kids (I call them "my kids" but they are not my offspring. Just want to clear that up) know about Classic Rock. They are just 'discovering' the Beatles, for cripes' sake!

So tonight, for our first meeting, I am offering an exchange, of sorts. I (with the help of my husband, who has massive knowledge in punk and a good knowledge of classic rock) will teach them what I think that they should know about music, and they can teach me about the drivel they listen to (I'm trying, really I am, b/c I don't want to be old and bitter and complain about noise and say "now back in MY day--").

If any of you have any suggestions as to what I should include, I'd really appreciate it. I'm trying to be objective and include stuff that had an impact on where we are today, even if I don't care for it myself. Rev, I'd love your input on this one!

-Daisy