I hiked down to the mailbox yesterday. A few Christmas cards, a few holiday cards, and a fancy expensive looking flyer for expensive property over Black Mountain way.
Now being a guy who sort of understands what Buddha was talking about, I know that change happens. People have to learn to accept change. Some of us do better at that than others but taking nice land and turning it into gated communities full of rich lazy folks just seems like the wrong direction. We've been assaulted by these folks from other parts of the country who think this is some type of retirement mecca. Most of them are OK with it being a mecca but they wouldn't want any muslims around even as servants. So much for Mecca.
I sure hope I don't change my mind as decrepitude creeps up on me but I believe that a man ought to be able to take care of his own property. Washing windows (when they get dirty enough) cleaning gutters, cutting any grass he chooses to to grow, dropping trees with a chainsaw, raking up leaves and taking care of a good size garden (big enough to eat out of and share with the neighbors). But no, we've got to have folks moving in to their mini-castles (they call them condos but they are really more like condors- you know ugly things that feed off others) and complaining that the folks who work for them aren't good enough, fast enough and cheap enough.
They think they are bringing us some type of better life to these mountains. Between the fancy wine bottles in the landfills, the dish attenaes bringing them images of the the life they pretend to dislike, their detailed cars imported from other countries, and their wives who snigger at us over lunches that look like something you'd feed a turtle these folks find time to complain about what's wrong with others.
Don't these come heres have mirrors?
I might not be the brightest light bulb on the street but if someone else wants to parade around in last year's flannel shirt that's OK by me. If they don't want to act like their neighbors that's OK too. Heck, if they don't want to be like the pretentious fools over Asheville way that sounds even better. My feeling is that everybody is OK. The trick is not to make too much of a mess of the world.
For my part I compost my leaves for the garden; don't think my driveway needs to be paved; think my house needs to be snug against the elements; and I try to change my underwear everyday. I don't live in a condo where I don't know my neighbors and don't complain about them if I don't like them. I drink an occassional domestic beer with friends, cook my own stews, bake my own breads, and try to give a bit back to the world. I might not die too rich but I promise you I don't intend to die bitter.
No condos for me. Heck, when I die I don't even mind if the condors pick over my bones. At least I'll provide them with someting good to eat.