The Walk

Yesterday I went for a walk with my mom in the village I grew up in.
We started talking about the things that have changed there since and
some of the things that will probably never change. The village is a
tiny little cluster of houses on the edge of one of the states
largest wildlife reservation. There is not an actual town for about
10 miles and nothing you could consider a city for at least 30. I
always thought I was fortunate to grow up in such a secluded area.
Even the time I spent with my grandparents was in a village about the
same size as the one we lived in with about 200 people. It was just
on the other side of the county, a world away.
My county has a very sharp contrast in landscapes. The south end of
the county is mile after mile of wide-open flat plains. Drive about
15 miles north and you find yourself in gently rolling hills with
deep ravines near the river basin. On either end you run into various
issues when winter hits.
My mother, as amazing as she is, raised five kids out there in no
man's land. I never really had any perspective on that until recently
when we started talking about my siblings and how their lives had
played out and how our own children are living their lives.
For some families the village I grew up in is a time capsule and they
are all locked away from the rest of the world, choosing to raise
generation after generation in the same place. It makes the village
close nit because not only do all the grandparents know all the
adults but also all of the adults know all of the children. And
everyone looks out for everyone else. The only side effect to that is
that the children cannot get away with anything in that village
without getting caught and I know that because I've seen me do it.
I thought that bringing up just one child was a challenge. I was
always so focused on my daughter that I really didn't have any time
to develop an interest in anything but her. And I had no desire to
try. I never thought about what it would be like trying to raise 5
kids.
It was about this time of year when my mother would start gathering
up all the things she needed to get ready for winter. One of the most
important of those tasks was the nearly lost art of harvesting and
canning everything she could get her hands on because she had 5 kids
to feed.
My mother doesn't do so much canning anymore because all but one of
us children have since moved away, had kids of our own, and like most
families we go to the grocery store for food. Then we complain when
the price rings up so high. My mother thought she had taught us
better. The world had a different idea. For only a quarter of what
she would spend in a grocery store in one month she could raise and
can enough food to feed us for over half a year. Add hunting season
into that equation when my father and I would bring home two or more
deer a season and we were pretty much set. Or at the very least we
saved a bundle at the grocery store.
This time of year the crops are coming off pretty well around here.
Sweet corn has been up and running for just over a month and now
melons, apples, peaches, tomatoes, potatoes, honey, nuts, and berries
are all being harvested, caned, jammed, jellied, spiced, pressed, and
dried for the winter season. And those who put the work into it live
like kings of old with a much smaller hole in their bank account,
which for some people is the very center of the universe. Life isn't
about living anymore so much as it is about making money. Which is a
sad excuse for a life. And as my mother puts it, we put so much
effort into making money that we never take the time to learn ways to
keep it. Then we wonder why we struggle so much.
She struggles too of course, she has worked the same job for well
over a decade and as the cost of living goes up and her paycheck
don't she finds herself fighting to keep her head above water. But
she does it everyday and she takes pride in the fact that despite the
fight she still finds ways to pull it off. Another lesson to be
learned from watching mom.
My mom has always been a bit of a traditionalist. She has more
paganism in her than most people who actually claim the title. And
she is not a witch at all. She desires and strives for the simplest
of dreams. I share that passion with her because all that I have ever
wanted is a simple, quiet, family oriented type of life. I had that
myself once and lost it. I really don't know if I will ever get it
back again. I live with that painful realization everyday. I don't
have a family of my own. And that hurts much worse when the holidays
come around and I am setting home alone wondering exactly where I
went wrong with this dream of mine. My mom seems to be the only one
who actually understands that. And despite all that she has done and
the kids she has raised she still knows what it is like when you get
the feelings of being all alone in the world and the notion in your
mind that in the big picture, you don't really matter anymore. On the
list of priorities and importance you fall into to about 4th place.
It's a painful common bond I have with my mother and we found out
pretty quickly that the only thing we can do about it is go for walks
and talk, because no one else is listening.
As we walked through the village we stopped by to check out the
buckeye tree that sets in the old schoolyard. The school has since
been knocked down leaving an empty lot where I went to grade school
and a big hole in the landscape of my childhood. A lot of stories
played out in that's schoolyard. And one of them was when I would go
down there with a plastic bag or bucket and gather up buckeyes from
this same tree and bring them home for mom to decorate the house with
for fall and winter. But this time the buckeyes were not quite ready
yet. They're still soft and pretty much green but the brown of fall
is creeping in. A few more weeks and they will all be on the ground
waiting to be picked up. Somehow I can relate.
We also stopped by the fairy oak where I have had so many encounters
with a certain troop for many years now. My mom loves listening to my
tales of the fairies that play near that tree and trying to
understand how all of that works. From time to time she even likes to
walk along the same path that the troop travels when going out to
gather things up or just wonder around a bit. On this walk she asked
an interesting question when we got near the old oak. She wondered if
the fairies had certain times of year when they had to get ready for
winter too and took the time to go out and gather up what they could
in preparation or if they just gave up like everyone else and decided
to go to WalMart instead. "What do you think is really important to
them?" she asked. We left it at that because nothing more needed to
be said.

Angel Snowden - 2006