My last substantial post was on May 12. And then life swept me away, into the rush and tumble of day-to-day life, filled with workdays and summer activities and artistic pursuits that left no time to devote to continuing this online record of my island life. And so much has happened between my last post and today, I couldn't recount it all if I wanted to. And I don't want to. It is enough to say that I continue living on Nicollet Island, where the current month brings my residency to a full year—a year that has been fun and fascinating and filled with interesting diversions and unexpected insights.
One of those insights, though not entirely unexpected, is that life is so much more satisfying and worthwhile when spent engaged in stimulating activities that you love rather than in the Sisyphean round of home maintenance activities which were costly, thankless, time consuming, and drudgery-filled. Starting out with the belief that I owned a home only to finally discover that the home in fact owned me and that I was its slave, I have reveled in my emancipation over the past year by living—and I speak only for myself—in a way that I believe is the best way for me to live. That is to say, I live in a tranquil setting in the midst of a city, where I can pursue my own interests sans the onus of home-owner responsibilities, and spend money previously poured into the bottomless well of home upkeep and repair into delightfully remunerative and life-affirming areas such as travel, culture and entertainment.
Much has transpired on this island in the nearly six months during which I have neglected to report. There have been festivals, large sporting events held at the DeLaSalle H.S. athletic field, umpteen weddings at the Nicollet Island Pavilion, and much more. But I will simply resume with today, and what I observed during my leisurely stroll both on and off the island.
Little effort was required to dress our alcove in the costumerie of Halloween. When I was a child, I would have killed for a skeleton like that; now I can pick it up at Target for a few bucks: I daresay it delights me now, scarcely less than it would have then. Today was a beautiful day, though undoubtedly the usual winter unpleasantness is lurking in the wings, preparing to make its cold, wet and blustery entrance, and those bikes will soon be placed in storage. Tonight (Saturday) is undoubtedly when the adults will celebrate Halloween, while the real All Hallow's Eve, when children will make their way from door to door soliciting treats (or tricks) is not until Wednesday. There are not many children on the island, but the handful that live here are cute, amiable and innocuous, as all children should be. I look forward to seeing their costumes and hopeful faces, and contributing to their bags o'plenty. I miss the days of making costumes for my own children and chaperoning them around. There's nothing like watching a child's sweet face as it is transformed by gluttony and greed.
Here is the other end of the alcove, the door to our apartment, where Mr. Scarecrow stands (or sits) to welcome visitors. He did not come with the wreath. He came attached to a length of bamboo, most of which I sawed off. The remaining section of bamboo was enough to shove into the wreath and thereby provide him with a comfortable perch. Nobody but our visitors will ever see him, since he is hidden from the street view, but that's okay since he is not really there to scare anyone away. Well, maybe crows. The island is a wonderful place to be in the fall. The river air is crisp and clean and redolent with the odor of dying leaves and moist earth. People are out and about, enjoying the season while they can. The Twin Cities Marathon was held recently, on Oct. 6th, and I almost envied those runners their foot tour through Minneapolis and St. Paul, where they would have been treated to some of the loveliest fall colors to be seen anywhere.
My description is bringing to mind a song I wrote quite a few years ago, but which I have been playing again recently with a former guitar student and newfound musical collaborator. Titled 'Twin City Sunrise' it seems appropriate to include it here:
That song is about the seasons, and as I write this it is not only spooky with the advent of Halloween but also a bit spooky with the trappings of election season, which has caused the island to be overrun with signs like those pictured here. I don't mind saying that I detest their intrusion into the beautiful natural scenery. But maybe I shouldn't judge so harshly; they are simply the evidence of human beings and one of the telltale traces of their efforts to govern themselves and peacefully co-exist; much as a nocturnal creeping critter might leave behind a scent which either wards off potential antagonists or attracts those which might be compatible. So much time and effort (and money) is spent trying to convince each other of what is right (and what wrong). This, I suppose, is merely what our animal instincts prompt us to do as we wage our battle for survival—to say nothing of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, for our species is peculiar in that we not only want to survive, but also want to be happy and free to do just as we please. And that means different things to different members of our species; hence: politics!
While I recognize and acknowledge the necessity to support and respect the political process, I confess that I prefer to train my gaze on visions such as this flowered bush rather than on the unattractive signs that would dictate how I think and live. Perhaps this is selfish, and tantamount to saying that I am more interested in benefiting from the freedoms and pleasures that the political process makes possible than I am in participating in that process. Guilty as charged. And yet, I will vote. I will register my values along with my co-citizens on the first Tuesday in November and with any amount of luck (and coinciding values) the world I inhabit will continue to provide me the luxury of living in peace, in a place governed by fair laws, and free to pursue my interests. Maybe I shouldn't complain too loudly about the political signage on the island, for there is another sign on the island which I have found reason to appreciate, by which I have on occasion been inspired.
Those who have followed this blog may recall the sign at the southeastern end of the island which I have featured from time to time, primarily at times when I have noticed the sign's transformation. The sign sports a single word which seems to change from month to month; in past months it has featured words such as DREAM, CREATE, INSPIRE, etc. Recently, I was crossing the Central Ave. bridge and noticed its latest injunction to the public: LOVE. This is a message I can support. The Beatles said it was all you need, but I'm not sure everyone believes that. And that, I suppose, is why we need politics as well.
I invoked the zoom feature on my camera so as to obtain a closer look. This sign is not a work of art, not a miracle of beauty, nor yet is it graffiti, but it does seem to succeed in saying all that it really wishes to say. Would that we could all be so forthright and articulate. If I were more industrious (read: less lazy), I would scroll back through prior blog posts and list out ALL of the words this sign has sported in the past, but I will leave that for a future (less lazy) time, perhaps after additional words have been trotted out for our consideration. Until then, I will merely strive to allow the word-of-the-month into my heart in greater measure, and to sow the seeds of its injunction more frequently and in greater measure wherever I go and with whomever I meet. Surely a goal that is easier said than done, but maybe saying things more often has the happy effect of prompting us to do them more often. And maybe that is why some people have planted so many political signs. And who's to say that the desire to promulgate the concept and practice of LOVE isn't every bit as political?
Life flows on, in and around us—it is what we make it, and to make it what we wish it to be, to make that which is in us harmonize with that which surrounds us, requires belief, effort, and the willingness to offer signs that others can read.
D.E.S.
