Thank you, Chris. Another satisfying piece of writing. I especially enjoy your spot-on bon mots like, "A wonderful memory from my pre-elk brat life" and "...eye garbage that sprouts up like swollen zits on the faces of the trophy homes occupying land out here that used to be farms." Shades of JH and makes me smile. Cheers, friend!
One thing I dislike about political signs (for the big candidates everyone knows about) is how I respond to seeing them.
I was on a long drive today through rural areas I don't live in. I saw the expected increase in pro-Trump signs, compared to where I live. Some of them were...well, let's just say their enthusiasm bordered on aggression. Of course I don't like them because my observation of Donald Trump is that he's a bully and a liar and incompetent at every job he's known for, and it appalls me that he might be re-elected.
The deeper reason I don't like them is that I can feel myself building a little wall inside me when I see them. The stones, stacked into place with fearful hands, are shaped like this: These folks aren't trustworthy. This place is full of mean people. These people are ignorant. I can't believe so much of my country hates the rest of my country so much.
And the thing is, I don't know any of those things are true. They probably aren't. There are more things in heaven and earth, etc, and I know THAT's true because I know multiple Trump-supporters, and I talk about politics sometimes with ones I don't know, and most of those people are decent and sincere.
I figure there are Trump-supporting folks who drive around my city and look at all the Biden signs and think: This neighborhood is full of evil communists. These people are insane and don't know what's good for them. Do they hate America or do they just not get it?
Obviously, they are wrong about me and my neighborhood. We let political signs do too much of our talking. We should actually talk more. Or maybe better, chop wood together.
I have two signs in my Missoula yard --Kathleen Williams and Shane Morigeau. I support all the Democratic candidates, but felt like giving a shout-out about these two. It's designed to be a reminder to people driving by to vote down their ballot (including for these two excellent and consequential [if they win] candidates). Also, the covenants in my subdivision ban political signs; that ban is unlawful and, I don't know, it feels kind of good to exercise my legal rights on this.
I love this so much, Chris. I think that balance--remembering how to do things for others and be in the natural world, while still not checking out of politics completely--is so tough to find, especially now. Thank you for your words, and for the reminder that the balance is possible. (Also, I completely agree with you re: the natural world and writing. People are often surprised I didn't take creative writing classes in college, and all I can say is that I hadn't lived enough or seen enough of the world yet to know what I'd possibly write about.)
So much pleasure and goodness in this installment, Chris. Thank you. I feel you on the exhaustion of staring at a lapsed newsletter. Where does one even begin? But, as usual, you weave such a human-feeling variety of experiences into one update and it rings very true.
"I have no interest in sitting around a table with a bunch of people in cardigans who aren't keen on crawling around in the rain looking for things like owl pellets and wild onions." <- YES YES YES. I love hearing about that deluge of new info and how it really just serves to whet the appetite and bring you back for more. You've got me wanting to dig around and see if there's a similar program I could access in the Pacific Northwest.
Happy to sign that petition for the Heritage Area, too. I'm wishing you all luck against the forces of obstruction.
I feel “so done” just about every day right now, but as you say, we persist. Sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day-to-day is going back to Arlee (in my mind, of course) and planting myself there in the midst of all that peace and quiet.
Thank you, Chris. Another satisfying piece of writing. I especially enjoy your spot-on bon mots like, "A wonderful memory from my pre-elk brat life" and "...eye garbage that sprouts up like swollen zits on the faces of the trophy homes occupying land out here that used to be farms." Shades of JH and makes me smile. Cheers, friend!
One thing I dislike about political signs (for the big candidates everyone knows about) is how I respond to seeing them.
I was on a long drive today through rural areas I don't live in. I saw the expected increase in pro-Trump signs, compared to where I live. Some of them were...well, let's just say their enthusiasm bordered on aggression. Of course I don't like them because my observation of Donald Trump is that he's a bully and a liar and incompetent at every job he's known for, and it appalls me that he might be re-elected.
The deeper reason I don't like them is that I can feel myself building a little wall inside me when I see them. The stones, stacked into place with fearful hands, are shaped like this: These folks aren't trustworthy. This place is full of mean people. These people are ignorant. I can't believe so much of my country hates the rest of my country so much.
And the thing is, I don't know any of those things are true. They probably aren't. There are more things in heaven and earth, etc, and I know THAT's true because I know multiple Trump-supporters, and I talk about politics sometimes with ones I don't know, and most of those people are decent and sincere.
I figure there are Trump-supporting folks who drive around my city and look at all the Biden signs and think: This neighborhood is full of evil communists. These people are insane and don't know what's good for them. Do they hate America or do they just not get it?
Obviously, they are wrong about me and my neighborhood. We let political signs do too much of our talking. We should actually talk more. Or maybe better, chop wood together.
I have two signs in my Missoula yard --Kathleen Williams and Shane Morigeau. I support all the Democratic candidates, but felt like giving a shout-out about these two. It's designed to be a reminder to people driving by to vote down their ballot (including for these two excellent and consequential [if they win] candidates). Also, the covenants in my subdivision ban political signs; that ban is unlawful and, I don't know, it feels kind of good to exercise my legal rights on this.
Identify so much with the opening. Was right there with you and the squashed peanut butter sandwich, too.
I love this so much, Chris. I think that balance--remembering how to do things for others and be in the natural world, while still not checking out of politics completely--is so tough to find, especially now. Thank you for your words, and for the reminder that the balance is possible. (Also, I completely agree with you re: the natural world and writing. People are often surprised I didn't take creative writing classes in college, and all I can say is that I hadn't lived enough or seen enough of the world yet to know what I'd possibly write about.)
So much pleasure and goodness in this installment, Chris. Thank you. I feel you on the exhaustion of staring at a lapsed newsletter. Where does one even begin? But, as usual, you weave such a human-feeling variety of experiences into one update and it rings very true.
"I have no interest in sitting around a table with a bunch of people in cardigans who aren't keen on crawling around in the rain looking for things like owl pellets and wild onions." <- YES YES YES. I love hearing about that deluge of new info and how it really just serves to whet the appetite and bring you back for more. You've got me wanting to dig around and see if there's a similar program I could access in the Pacific Northwest.
Happy to sign that petition for the Heritage Area, too. I'm wishing you all luck against the forces of obstruction.
Hear, hear.
It’s always good to read your words, Chris.
I feel “so done” just about every day right now, but as you say, we persist. Sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day-to-day is going back to Arlee (in my mind, of course) and planting myself there in the midst of all that peace and quiet.