"There is no 'try'...there is only do, or do not." ~ Yoda

"There is no 'try'...there is only do, or do not." ~ Yoda

Preparing myself, my family and my friends for the Fourth Turning.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Notes from a Small Town in July

So tonight I am listening to music drift across the valley - it is the last night of the Fireman's Fair, the primary fundraising event for the fire and emergency services here in Moravia.

Today there was a parade through town - pretty good turn out, and all of the various fire departments from across the region sent vehicles to represent.

I walked to the parade with my northern neighbors (I think I got the compass wrong in my previous post - if that information differs from this, then go with this) Susan and Carolynn, two quite delightful artists - truly, artists, having made their living at it the whole of their lives, in one manner or another.  Phenomenally intelligent people up here.

A completely wonderful pair of individuals, vibrant and alive, endlessly energetic and optimistic, growing things to eat in odd places, all over the yard, and oh so crushingly intelligent.  I must keep my mouth shut in this town for risk of running afoul of Twain's warning.

(And my how the music sings now - a soulful dirge creeping across the valley, echoes in the night air reflecting festivals ancient and modern)

It's the geology, really.  Until you've been to Ithaca, you don't know what natural beauty is.  Add to that the presence of a world-class, internationally renowned university, and you've set the stage for a wonderful eclecticism.

People arrive from all over the world to partake of the education, fall in love with the geology and the forests and the peace and the tranquil sense of community that pervades the region and take any job - however menial - just to stay.  And I live at the center of this.  Again, my eyes are tearing.

So people of remarkable intelligence and learning settle here, foregoing wealth in order to remain. This is an interesting dynamic.

Mmph.  In other news,

...on August seventh we shall have a Park Street Pot Luck.  All of the residents of Park street, all 25 or so of us, will attend.  It is a regular affair, the only decision being who shall provide the venue - and I have volunteered for the privilege.  So on the seventh, the neighborhood will converge on my back yard, now occupied, after having been empty for four long years.

Many in this town know the home - I have been told time and again of the bike shop that used to reside in the basement, and the pride of Mr. Brewster over the fact that he had the driest basement on the block.  A portion was even carpeted, I am told.

His son and daughter in law live next door - it is from them we purchased our home.  They took wonderful care of it, and were terribly accommodating during the purchase and moving in.  Ed Brewster is a retired corrections officer, and Penny is a current corrections officer and - of all things - a true roller derby queen, just like in the old Jim Croce song - although much prettier than the the woman in the song, of course.

So I have neighbors, and we speak often, and mid-street conferences are apparently commonplace, judging from today's activities.  It's rather like a large extended family, at first blush.  And everything is so damnably well tended!  And people appear outside their homes, as the weather is so unconscionably pleasant as to be suspect!

Cool evenings in the sixties - the outdoor fire beside which I write is welcome for more than it's light - and sunny days in the high seventies to low eighties, with humidity quite low.

Even the children benefit the neighborhood.  My corner neighbor- down the street a way, a couple I have not met, he a contractor I believe, and she a homemaker, keen for her role, as attested to by the brightly colored rocks painted by her children and adorning her yard.

She is meticulous with it, her yard, and it is indeed pleasant to walk past each day, and tonight as she stood arms about each other with her husband as I passed by, and they waved.

I wish I could do justice to my joy.  It is much as it is when I am in the forest in the fall in New England, and my eyes burn with the fierceness of the colors.  There is at that time of year so much beauty that my soul weeps.

It is similar now - the elements of peace are manifest, the sense that I have at last arrived at a place and a time where I can fit, and belong, and contribute.  I feel welcomed, in a manner I have never before felt, and it feels quite good to be so welcome. 

Mind you - it is now 2330, and still the music plays, a new band now, but the cheers are as loud.  Next year, I shall endeavor to attend this fair.  For now, I am content to listen from afar and record my introduction to this new life.

Enough for now - forgive any errors, I must return to the world.

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