Halloween Epilogue
After reading Sheri's halloween post here and her Montana-loving post here I am humbled. She has taken to the new culture so quickly. I know I'd go into shock singing clementine with cowboys I knew I now lived with; I don't even have any snap-button shirts. I have a hard time where I am, in a little closet of mountain culture, less than an hour from a fairly large city, less than three hours from S.F., one of the greatest cities in the world.
Why? Why has the culture up here been hard for me, for us? I don't know, but it's something I want to think about. Sheri and Andy are doing so well under the Big Sky I have to look at my own attitudes, my own lack of faith, my own fear and anger. Not that I don't like the Sierras, but I've been here three and a half years and I still feel isolated. A couple we know, really the only couple our age we hang out with, had a halloween party two nights ago (S and I went as Kerry cheerleaders) and we ended up at a little bar in the town below me. There was a local band; I wasn't drinking but we danced. And I was looking around thinking man, this place is heavy hick. And it was. Late night Sierra drinking culture. It was still fun, but though I can split wood and shovel snow with the rest of them, I haven't yet felt at home. I'm afraid to join the bowling league (apparently being a below 100 bowler, as I am, is not supposed to matter). I'm hopeful things will improve in my little parish; maybe S and I should have tried the baptist church in my town more than once, but we like the liturgical service and the episcopal culture and we drive, and tolerate an older congregation, to have it. And then I joined vestry...I'm committed for a while now.
I have to see my reticence to meet new people, especially those who lack the city polish I once drew identity from, as results of my life experiences, from learned critical attitudes which pervade me like water. But that doesn't mean I can't work on those attitudes, can't act in spite of those fears. What does mike ness (from social d.) say? 'But wherever I have gone, I was sure to find myself there; you can run all your life, but not go anywhere.' I brought myself to the mountains, but it doesn't mean I can't change my self.
It's something worth praying about. Right now I'm still so drained, trying to catch my breath from the emotional turmoil of the last three weeks at work I don't want any new projects. And maybe Montana really is a better place than my little town! But I know there is human beauty here I've missed, that S and I have isolated ourselves from people who could support us in various fashion. Heck, I'm even inside more than I want to be; I work at a computer looking out the window at my forest front yard; I started jogging around our little neighborhood the last few weeks, and want to run today. There's something about being out in all that beauty and cold air that revives my spirit.
Well, if nothing, else, you must read the Halloween post I linked above; it's wonderful. Better than Garrison Keillor, or something out of the old Lands' End catalog, or a Frank Capra film; most wonderful of all because it's true.
Why? Why has the culture up here been hard for me, for us? I don't know, but it's something I want to think about. Sheri and Andy are doing so well under the Big Sky I have to look at my own attitudes, my own lack of faith, my own fear and anger. Not that I don't like the Sierras, but I've been here three and a half years and I still feel isolated. A couple we know, really the only couple our age we hang out with, had a halloween party two nights ago (S and I went as Kerry cheerleaders) and we ended up at a little bar in the town below me. There was a local band; I wasn't drinking but we danced. And I was looking around thinking man, this place is heavy hick. And it was. Late night Sierra drinking culture. It was still fun, but though I can split wood and shovel snow with the rest of them, I haven't yet felt at home. I'm afraid to join the bowling league (apparently being a below 100 bowler, as I am, is not supposed to matter). I'm hopeful things will improve in my little parish; maybe S and I should have tried the baptist church in my town more than once, but we like the liturgical service and the episcopal culture and we drive, and tolerate an older congregation, to have it. And then I joined vestry...I'm committed for a while now.
I have to see my reticence to meet new people, especially those who lack the city polish I once drew identity from, as results of my life experiences, from learned critical attitudes which pervade me like water. But that doesn't mean I can't work on those attitudes, can't act in spite of those fears. What does mike ness (from social d.) say? 'But wherever I have gone, I was sure to find myself there; you can run all your life, but not go anywhere.' I brought myself to the mountains, but it doesn't mean I can't change my self.
It's something worth praying about. Right now I'm still so drained, trying to catch my breath from the emotional turmoil of the last three weeks at work I don't want any new projects. And maybe Montana really is a better place than my little town! But I know there is human beauty here I've missed, that S and I have isolated ourselves from people who could support us in various fashion. Heck, I'm even inside more than I want to be; I work at a computer looking out the window at my forest front yard; I started jogging around our little neighborhood the last few weeks, and want to run today. There's something about being out in all that beauty and cold air that revives my spirit.
Well, if nothing, else, you must read the Halloween post I linked above; it's wonderful. Better than Garrison Keillor, or something out of the old Lands' End catalog, or a Frank Capra film; most wonderful of all because it's true.
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