…to get out. Get out now!
I alluded to it in the other blog when mentioning my ‘new friend’ who just moved out here. He and his wife got out. And they are happy they did. But then we (Sal and I) started to add up those ‘others’ who also moved out here within the last year or so. We added six more names. For a community of 60 to grow by ten percent in one year is ‘something’. I don’t quite know what it means but it means something. And that does not include the several expanding bellies and recent infants that occasionally meet the eye, either. Add in the oven-buns and the babies and we might have another six. We may have grown by 20% this year!
Now, to be fair….a lot of people (all of them, actually) also got a year older and, for some of them, that year seemed more telling and physically degrading than previous ones so maybe I am just a bit more aware of the circle of life. I don’t know. Maybe we lose six next year. Who knows how all this stuff really works? And, quite honestly, going from 60 to 72 (or so) means nothing in the way of community dynamics or frequent-sightings of one another. Life out here remains feral and remote still.
Still………some people ‘got out’. And some of them came here.
The trouble with saying ‘GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!’ is that it suggests that you are in some kind of danger and need to get the hell out as soon as you can. And I don’t mean that at all. I think the danger level is increasing to some extent but not enough to panic. So what if the number of drive-by shootings in Surrey increases when you live in Kerrisdale or West Van? So what if Harper rattles his flaccid sword at Russia – where you live in BC won’t change the consequences of that. Same for the economy, mostly. Except for the cost of home ownership, not much changes by moving to Spuzzum or a remote island. Not at a survival level anyway.
But I am still saying ‘GET OUT. GET OUT NOW!’ because of the sheer enjoyment that awaits you. It is just plain old wonderful to be living this way and my recollection of the rat race was not one of wonder and enjoyment.
Urban life was mostly convenient, though. I’ll give you that. Physically easy, to be sure. Definitely consumer-friendly. One could sit all day and night at a screen, phone for food delivery and basically not have to move a muscle if you wanted to go all-out veggie. And let’s face it, the women in the virtual world are better shaped and more beautiful than real people (albeit a smidge exaggerated). Plus you can steal cars and shoot all the bad guys you want to. Switch your pizza guy now and then and what’s not to like?
So, I am just reminding you is all. It’s really nice out here. You meet wild turkeys on the road instead of traffic, you can eat fresh oysters for dinner rather than line up at the local restaurant, you breathe fresh air instead of particulate matter and it’s quiet; no sirens, no big trucks, no neighbour’s party music. Think about it. And then……………
…………..GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!
Can you imagine telling someone that you lived in Spuzzum? My spelling check is trying to get me to let it correct to Sputum.
I know that Spuzzum is near Yale and I had my guru in Boston Bar give Ed Makitka a blue Lodge ring because I hear that he’d lost his. But what the hell does that have to do with living on an island with like-minded folk?
Almost nothing I say except I think two things about it. First it is preferable to know your neighbours…and yours is a rather large sparsely populated neighbourhood of like-minded folk. Second, I like going down to a beach near a freshwater source and picking some Cockles (the Heiltsuk call them ‘Giwalli’, it means penis).
So, rant on!