PALAVER episode 1 written by lostnbronx August 4-6, 2010 (c) David Collins-Rivera text released under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License ========== MUSIC UP, HOLDS A BIT MUSIC FADES A BIT INTRO UP MUSIC UP AS INTRO FADES. MUSIC HOLDS A BIT, THEN FADES OUT Hello, this is lostnbronx. Welcome to the first episode of Palaver, the audiocast where I talk about things that are on my mind. I suspect they'll be small. If you're curious as to the format, well...so am I. Right now, I see it as something of an organic, evolving beast. I'm experimenting; see what I like; dump what I don't. Maybe I'll say something of interest along the way. Maybe not. Probably not. SMARMY MUSIC UP SLOWLY What I do have today, though, are a few things from my heart. A few thoughts that are in my head, and which stir my soul, concerning a little thing I like to call...home. SMARMY MUSIC OUT As some may know, I currently live in rural Arizona, in the United States, near a small town called Show Low. Now, Show Low has an interesting origin, quite all its own, which I may relate in another episode, if the mood strikes. I say, I live here now, but I was born and raised in and around the city of Waterbury Connecticut, again, in the USA; a place very much on the other side of the country, both geographically, and culturally. Yes, that's right, I'm a genuine Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court...that is, if King Arthur were an inbred moonheaded shitkicker with a Ford F-350 where his penis ought to be. But, I get ahead of myself. Now Waterbury also has an origin of interest. In fact, when seen with enough objectivity and excitement -- to say nothing of humor -- almost any place can be said to have a cool beginning. You know, IF you overlook some things, maybe...and if you squint a lot. Now, from Waterbury, I moved to New York City, as my moniker implies -- and that, too, is a story for another day, both the move and the screen name. From there, after a period of years, I ended up out here. Which brings me, more-or-less to the present. And it is the PRESENT I am considering, not the past, even though mine, like yours, is rooted there. That's the basics of the background, so we'll keep the rest of history historical for now, and focus on my current point of contention: namely small town VALUES. Oh, I can hear the hackles out there rising as I speak, but...half a moment...I may surprise you. Now, what exactly AM I talking about, here? I mean, the world is full of small towns, and people have different values the world over, so what's got my thong in a knot about Show Low? Well, in fact, it isn't just Show Low, nor Arizona in particular, though, trust me, it ain't hard to find examples hereabouts. No, what I'm talking about is a seemingly-innate arrogance that small town folk often -- in my experience -- have. See, I lived in Waterbury, but I actually grew up in a teeny-weeny town right next door called Oakville. White and working class almost exclusively. In fact, there was exactly ONE family of color in town throughout all the years of my childhood -- with all the side-effects that that implies: namely, whenever anything bad happened in town, guess whose house the cops stopped at first. I know, I know, I said no history -- but you need some context, or else you might think I'm just talking here. No! I was born and raised in a small town, but unlike John Mellencamp, it ain't good enough for me. Not then, and really, not now, though for compelling reasons I won't get into yet, I am here for the foreseeable future. Whatever, cry you a river, right? I use the word arrogance with measure and care. It is as real as the world, but it it is not universal among small town residents. You will find humility and charm and a sense of wonder in towns like Show Low, just as you will anywhere else people live. It's just that you have to look pretty close to find it, sometimes. And that, I believe, is for two unfortunate reasons. First: money. Pure and simple. It's an opaque issue in a recession, but you'd be foolish to think it didn't exist before. As belts get tighter, people get less congenial to those they, maybe, never thought too highly of to begin with, whether or not they even voiced that opinion very much. Simply, even in a place that's as "God, apple pie, and Mom" as Show Low is, the times CAN become more "me-me". And I say "become more" because they WERE before as well -- it just wasn't so pressing or visible. Resources are limited in a place without major industry, or a population to drive one. This was once cattle country. Cowboys. The real deal. Horses, lassos and six-shooters. I am not kidding. Now? Well, now, it's a remarkable thing -- remarkable in the sense that it's rare-enough that you'd remark upon it -- when you drive down the road and see a cow. The population of the area has increased many-fold since then, but it's nothing compared to back East, and, anyway nothing has replaced the cattle industry. I could draw you such strong and surprising parallels with Waterbury right now, but that would involve history -- and...nah. Eye on the prize! I said there were two unfortunate reasons. Number two: yes, arrogance. That perception that small town living -- and by extension, small town residents -- are somehow superior to more urban living, and the residents who do it. I won't argue the pros or cons about the big city versus the small town. I have a perspective on both, and I've seen the good and bad in both. In the end, though, it's merely opinion. I can tell you this: there are good and bad people everywhere. The kindest, friendliest, most generous people I ever met were in both places. The worst people too. Those who point to a small town's inherent qualities rarely, if ever, point to it's flaws with equal fervor or honesty. Now, this is the usual spot where I would start giving examples -- telling tales of the hayseed population here, and how my worldly East Coast insight makes me hold them in such disdain, and why I'm justified in doing so; trust me, that would be easy to do. Easy, but wrong. See, because I fight an arrogance too: I bear the legacy of the small town within. That implacable certainty that one type of place is better than another. Now, we're not talking about some war-torn, plague-ridden, crap-hole on the nightly news -- of COURSE those places suck, they're hell on earth. I'm talking about lifestyle and the urban vs. the rural -- or, at least the small. And part of me says one is better. In my case, I rebelled. I think urban life rocks. But I'm CERTAIN of it -- I'm SO certain of it. Certain enough that I find myself sometimes dismissing the importance of people's lives here. Their joys, their triumphs, their problems, their tragedies...they're all remote and trivial, despite my proximity, because I do not value their lifestyle, and, maybe for a moment, and by extension...even their lives. I don't exactly do myself credit here. True enough. I don't exactly deserve any. But I learned that from somewhere...and it wasn't New York. No, I grew up in an environment where the big city was a mythical, magical, dangerous place: I mean, Connecticut is right next door to New York, but, trust me...it's a world away. Or it was then, anyway, I've been gone a long time now. But it was driven home how the big city eats you up and squirts you out; how people would cut your throat as soon as look at you; how no one there cares about anybody but themselves. Now, that's deliberate exaggeration, because few people I've met have been that vitriolic, but many have had, and do have now, a diluted form of it. That innate CERTAINTY that small town life is...I mean it just IS...better. And those wicked city folk are just waiting to do you wrong. Not like here, not like a place where everybody knows everybody, and everybody helps everybody out, because everybody's just so...nice. No, I shouldn't need to relate anecdotes to support my contention that that is a skewed view of life. Not everyone here is nice. Not everyone in Oakville was. Not everyone in New York City wanted to screw me over. There was kindness and intelligence and humor there. And guess what? Show Low has those things too. Sort of. Maybe. If I could bend myself a bit. Then again, it's also got people who'll screw me if I do, so what's that leave? People are people are people? Well, yeah, but you knew that. I knew that. What I DIDN'T always know, and what I may just forget again tomorrow, when I'm stuck in traffic behind some smoke-belching pickup truck with moon buggy tires and a "Cowboy Up!" sticker in the window, is that places are places are places...and that WHERE I am isn't necessarily WHO I am. And if that's true for me, then it's got to be true for them. Even the good-ol-boys. Even the bird-faced local girls with the eighties hair. Let me be clear: I'm not saying there's appalling differences between these two environments, and the people who inhabit them. Not at all. But I AM talking about that weird arrogant sensibility -- read that, certainty -- that small towners somehow value, more than city folk, whatever the hell the consensus of the current culture happens agree is best. That small towners, and those who share their values, somehow love freedom, and the safety of their children, to a far greater extent than do the, shall we say, more cosmopolitan members of society. I openly admit right here that this is a rank generalization on my part, bordering upon stereotype. Anyone from a small town offended by these assertions no doubt has good reason to be. That being said, some behaviors and beliefs CAN be widely held by social groups that share a common environment. There IS a small town way of thinking. I have seen it all my life. It is real and it is repellent to me. I am specifically referring to the belief that anything even VAGUELY smacking of change to the small town represents a direct threat TO the small town. That would only make sense if things were perfect there, and they're not. Not if you're in a different political, religious, economic or racial category than whatever happens to be riding the prevailing winds there at that time. And don't get me started on people who think like this while lording over their cultural domains within primarily homogeneous neighborhoods in big cities. That's got an especially bad smell: small town thinking in a big town. I've lived within that too: I mean, you didn't want to be caught being black in certain parts of Brooklyn...or white, in others. I think it's xenophobia of a sort: a treasured and perpetuated fear of others who are not like you. Okay, maybe not YOU; THEM, whoever THEY happen to be. You know what I mean. Or DO you? Maybe I'm talking nonsense to you. Maybe, what I see as an issue in small towns, you see as an asset. Maybe YOU don't see a problem at all. But if so, then you're exactly the sort of person I'm describing. You don't need to drive a monster truck to have a monstrous set of values. The racial demographics of this country -- the United States -- like MANY countries around the world right now, are rapidly changing. Thus, my greatest fear on this topic is, will the new neighbors wage a permanent war on the stagnation, that oftentimes bars people who are different, from an equal piece of the small town pie; or will they, upon having made great strides in that regard, choose to emulate the very people who disdained them, when the NEXT newcomers arrive? Will the disadvantaged simply adopt, in all the ways that truly matter, that same small town mentality that once endorsed their exclusion? Maybe so. It's happened before. It is this that scares me so. That the long walk to freedom is happening on a treadmill. Would you argue that this is simply human nature? If so, I would reply that it is animal nature. Human nature attempts to rise above knee-jerk territorialism, doesn't it? Or, shouldn't it? Weigh your answer. I implore you. Not for my sake, certainly, nor even for the new neighbors. Nor even for the sake of the city or small town folk in your circle. No, consider it for YOUR sake: because change, as you know intellectually, is the only constant. And if you're searching for something that's reliable and eternal about where you live, look there. INTERLUDE MUSIC UP, HOLDS, THEN FADES A BIT Okay, that was the main segment. I'll probably DO main segments. I'll probably have a bit each episode like that where I "read my screed", as it were. Now, if I ever get any email or comments, I'll probably cover those right around here. I'm STILL reading from a script right now, but I think I'll emulate my betters, and cover the feedback more extemporaneously. Like I said, I'm just playin' around. I suppose I could do other stuff here too, like reviews or maybe some fiction, or prank phone calls. I dunno. One thing I AM going to try for, though, is to be regular. Not like with fiber..well, actually, maybe...but I mean release-wise. I need to set a goal, a schedule, but I'm going to hold off on doing so just yet. And even once I DO do so, it'll be a guide, not a rule. Shoot for the Moon, and land on a cloud. That's what I'm talkin' about. Only, not any more. I'm out. This has been lostnbronx. Take care. MUSIC FADES BACK UP A BIT, THEN FADES BACK DOWN OUTRO UP OVER MUSIC MUSIC UP AS OUTRO FADES MUSIC HOLDS A BIT, THEN FADES OUT