Amy Drake

Vassal

2009-03-11T01:15:00.003-05:00

What for a day to suspend my will
and be kept by you in your thrill?
No ethical protest
Or over thought address -
Only you with me to possess.

Finders, Keepers

2008-10-28T14:59:00.070-05:00

A few weeks back I spent the weekend at my dad's helping him with his garage sale. He'd been wanting to have it for quite some time but it was going to be a great deal of work, the weather was never going to hold out for the whole weekend, and my schedule wasn't going to allow me to stay with him the entire time without an interruption in the day that would leave him alone to handle the customer interaction. We decided, alas, that conditions would never improve and eventually it would be too cold to have the sale and set a date.

My dad is a collector of tired, damaged and misused items. He makes a modest living selling and recycling things found and given to him. Many old timers bring their unwanted belongings down to him because that's what old timers do. They'd never discard something that someone else could use.

Friday, we drug out all the things he was willing to part with and Saturday morning the shoppers swarmed. They picked through stacks and dug through piles looking for that special little something that would be an unexpected treasure and a bargain. They bought and I brought out more. It was looking as if my dad's out of control collection was slimming down and my sister's property would be clear enough to resume the remodeling that began five years prior when she moved my dad in. My dad was able to avoid most of the haggling, aggressive buyers, and they had their good finds. I was glad for them all. On Sunday I was glad for me.

The weather, of course, didn't hold out on our second day. A couple people came early, but it was cloudy and rainy so my dad made us some soup and we just talked all day. This was our third meeting of length.

Last summer for about the period of a month my dad came to my apartment to help me run the electrical wire in our camper to get it ready for the long trip we were about to take. It was a find of my own I had made in the small town of Hamburg in southwest Iowa.

When I was a girl there was FM radio for teens and AM radio for adults. Since my parents were in control of the car radio is was AM for me. That included country, country-western, oldies, talk radio (most fondly, Paul Harvey), and the elephant show. It was classifieds on the radio. They read about items people wrote in that they wanted to sell and if you heard anything of interest you'd call up the radio station. It was mostly household goods and things that people on farms needed. My AM car radio time was about equal to my FM in my room time, because it was a long drive into town for school and work.

When my husband and I got married we were living in Seattle, Washington. We'd made the trip to his home town of Annapolis, Maryland for the wedding and ultimately we decided the place for our future together had to be near one of our families. Iowa seemed most practical for many reasons. My sister was able to find us an apartment in Omaha, Nebraska just across the bridge from Iowa and my mom informed me that my great-grandma's farm house was going to be vacant. We made it back in April of that year and just a couple months later the farm house was ready to be inhabited again.

It wasn't much of an adjustment for me to be back in the country again even after years of city life. I guess that experience never leaves you. The state of the house was mostly as I remembered it when my great-grandma was there. The house had some updates and the fence always needed painted. The well water tasted the same and there were just as many farm cats. In short, it was perfect. It wasn't hard to see why my great-grandpa chose this land to farm. It was fertile and beautiful.

This house was his own little find. A frame that resembled a house sat just down the road at the edge of Blanchard, Iowa. Some may tell you Blanchard, Missouri depending on what side of the street you're standing on. He lifted it, moved it to the hill and finished it for his family. His hand was evident in the construction when you looked at the windows and doors. They were all acquired and not planned so they were different sizes and sort of placed where ever they could be put. His dairy was in the back of the house which was long gone when I was a girl. Although, a few remaining cream crocks are sentimentally held by a few in my family. The livestock was gone as well. When my great-grandpa passed away his land went to my great uncles who grow corn now. After countless generations of farming heritage, there will be no more beyond them.

You have to work a lot harder in an old farm house even if you have no crop or livestock. They fall down without constant maintenance because they are beaten by the storm winds that come year round in this area either with rain or snow. There isn't any shelter from the elements up on the hills above open fields. I didn't mind the extra work and now I was going to be looking for things you need on farms.

I discovered there was now an Internet version of my fond elephant show. I wouldn't be able to use it for a couple months because it would take that long for the telecommunication company to run cable lines to me. I found most everything I needed and wanted on the site. It was nice to be able to browse slowly, but I did kind of miss hearing it on the radio.

We stayed at the farm house all summer and fall enjoying ourselves. We recorded songs for our album, grilled out, played with the cats and layed in the hammock. I had a part time job working for a butcher a few days a week and Chris drove to the city a couple days to work at a record store. We worked hard, but hardly noticed. We were having too much fun. But as winter approached we felt our good times coming to an end. We tried to prepare for the harsh weather the best we could, but the old stove in the dining room was going to need to be replaced for adequate heating. The pipes were getting harder and harder to prevent from freezing and the roads were never not treacherous. We were not the pioneers our grandparents were and headed back to the city to apartment life.

We got through the winter and as summer came I turned to my elephant show for yet another special something I was looking for. It wasn't a descriptive ad that lead me to call J.D. The ad simply read 14' trailer with a phone number. It was just a hunch that it might be one of those old 50's/60's era pull behind campers and if I was lucky maybe a canned ham. I gave the hard of hearing man a call and it sounded promising so we took a trip down to see it. It was, after all, in our old neck of the woods near the farm house. It seemed right to be headed that way this summer too.

We drove in anticipation and as we reached the street where he said it would be I was at the edge of my seat. My first glimpse of it from a block away was complete satisfaction. It was more than I could have hoped for. It was a teardrop.

We knocked on the door of the elderly housing community across the street from where the trailer sat. There we found J.D. We made our introductions and looked over the camper and he explained that the people that live in this house allowed him to keep the trailer there since he moved into the community but now it was time for him to let it go. My heart sunk a little as he talked because he sounded like he had a lot of good memories and the last thing I wanted was to have him part with something he really didn't want to.

He paused for a moment and squinted his eyes as he looked at me and asked my family name. When I spoke it a big smile came across his face and he laughed out saying how he knew my great-grandpa for many years. He told me how all the old folks around here knew him and what a great man he was. He'd help anybody that needed it and had helped him on more than one occasion with some grain or something of the farming nature. His reluctance turned to happiness almost instantly. He was glad to send his old camper home with Otto's grand-daughter. We'd have to make a second trip, though. Our van would need to have a hitch installed to pull it now that we knew we had something we wanted to pull.

All the way home I thought about my great-grandpa. I was very young when he passed away. What I know of him is that he came here from Germany and barely spoke English. He lost one brother at Ellis Island that he never found again and one in the Philippines during the war. He lived in a German colony in Missouri before moving north to buy land and become a farmer. I don't know when he met my great-grandma but it probably had something to do with farming because her parents were strawberry farmers from the south. They had nine kids together and grandpa's English got better over the years but he always had his thick accent which is the only thing I remember about him. I know he was Lutheran and was suspicious of catholics because he used to tease my mom about being careful when she walked past the catholic church. I know what it feels like to live in his house and have my hands in the same dirt as he did. I know everywhere I go down there someone remembers him and speaks fondly of him and I know my great-grandma was never the same without him.

We made our second trip a few days later and brought our little home to our home. We promptly demolished the interior and began a full restoration. My dad would come over for a couple hours each day. We'd work a little but mostly talk. After a few days of us talking about the places we'd traveled and the places we still wanted to go he realized we had more in common than he thought. After that he never told another family member I was strange or that he didn't know what to say me. He also helped me with my old van and got us on our way to the west coast. That was the first time I really talked to my dad.

We stayed in our little 1953 camper, which actually only has a ten foot cabin, all summer and part of fall from the west coast to the east coast and back to the Midwest when my sister informed me that yet another property of hers may be a good fit for Chris and I.

The house needed a lot of work along with the car we abruptly bought on the east coast when the old van broke down. So, dad came to help with another home and another car. It's easier to chat with someone that you don't know very well when you're working on something. You have something to keep your hands busy during moments of silence and it's just seems like you're concentrating on what you're doing and not uncomfortable. But, we weren't uncomfortable now. He was impressed with my carpentry skills and told me how all the men on his side of the family were good carpenters and I get that from him. I was, as always, impressed with his mechanical skills and how I could describe a sound and he immediately knew what it was and how to fix it. That was the second period of time I spent with my dad and when the house and the car were finished it was my turn to return the favor with his garage sale.

Sunday we ate our vegetable soup with oyster crackers and talked about everything under the sun with ease. All the vegetables in the soup were freshly picked from his garden and when I told Chris how much I liked it I was afraid I was about to be in the middle of an iron chef challenge. Soup is Chris's specialty.

Dad told me about his life with my mom when they were kids. He was doing well as a mechanic fixing up old cars and selling them and running a tow truck business. They were both at the peak of their addictions and affairs and he had a lot of stories about it. Some stories I had heard other versions of and some not at all. I told him about the music Chris and I had worked on this past year. He still wants to see one of my shows some day if we play a little earlier before the hour he needs to be home to have his first drink of the night. He wisely doesn't drive after that.

I think about what it is to find things. I watched the shoppers at the garage sale find their things. My great-grandfather found his land and his house. His old friend found his camper companion a second life with me, I have my radio show, my dad has his old timers. We are always looking for the thing of the moment or the thing we've been dreaming of. We have different sources and methods but all happen upon it in the end. For me they aren't even things I thought I'd be looking for most of the time. Especially when you consider that I finally found my dad with a bowl of soup.

Elective Oft Bells

2008-08-15T00:32:00.016-05:00

"It was blurry and beautiful."

I've never pretended to understand why there are nesters and nomads. Some cultures have continued to exist in motion for centuries while motionless empires form around them.

The idea of a home of your own is romantic. It's safe and seclusive. I walk down streets looking at each house and my imagination runs wild with stories of the people that live in these dwellings and the things they must being doing there. Lavish tales take shape in my mind about the joyous holidays shared between families in this house and the questionable comings and goings of colorful characters in that one.

I owe a great deal to these stationary people. They are responsible for many of the amenities I enjoy. I like gardening and have discovered I have a bit of a green thumb, but I would hardly have a lot of leisure time if I had to provide all of my own food from seedlings to plate. I couldn't begin to list all the discoveries and inventions that lead up to allowing me this life. Nor, could I fathom the industrious minds and the enormous will of the laborers behind them. I only know that their sacrifices and dedication to their arts and sciences grant us all choices.

The occupations that you may have when you're a child fill your head with dreams of gold. You haven't yet realised you're probably not going to be a ballerina, pilot and a doctor. There is a point when our peers finally convince us that we must find a specialty. It will require several years to develop, will bring you great personal happiness, afford you a modest lifestyle or better, and will be a meaningful or useful contribution to your community. Those who specialize collectively make up the work force that enable me everything from getting a coffee on the go to not performing my own surgery.

None of the skills I utilize from those around me would mature and most likely not even come to light if they were raised in a mobile society. They, of course, have other skills better suited to sustain their way of life.

Nomads are equally if not more romantic than nesters and their one home. They go with the wind, change of seasons, abundance or lack of water and food. What ever the reason, they go together in the same family units that children of empires have. That is, except for the children of empires who become nomads.

It's not difficult to imagine how the scenario happens. It's easy to feel tied to your job, spouse or other self imposed obligation. These commitments were made because they are of personal value. Anything of value is worth your countless hours of investment. They are, however, still obligations which cause stress and demand much of your time that you may have desired to spend elsewhere.

When our efforts stop rewarding us we search out other means of fulfillment. It's not that the life you chose isn't pleasing it's just loses luster when stationary and safe become stagnant and dull. People only handle this situation in one of two ways and it has everything to do with the inherent instinct of "fight or flight". You will either work harder for the wants you once had hoping they return the favor or you will leave to explore greener pastures. I only hear the phrase "fight or flight" discussed on the topic of responding to fear and danger. I strongly believe it's purpose isn't one dimensional. When you add in religious or philosophical struggles to your unrest the outcome is far from certain. These are a few reasons people drop out of 'normal' life and hit the road.

You will hear a few stories here and there about couples that uproot their children after deciding the life they've provided them up to this point is not in fact what they wanted for them. Couple and children will travel the open roads. The children will enjoy a comfortable family setting and homeschooling while the couple is free of the jobs they left behind. Mostly, you will see only couples or individuals and families who won't be together much longer than their routine vacations. That's because it is usually adults who are tired of their current situation and almost feel like they were suckered into believing they had to follow the steps of those before them in order to be happy or considered successful. Graduate. Get married. Buy a house. Have children. Work your way up in the company. They are the people who long to cut the strings. The easiest way to do that is simply leave.

The experience of being rootless for children of empires will be quite a bit different from traditional nomadic societies. Their migration across the land will most likely not consist of living freely off the land. They will have a destination in mind that may be a place where they want to go. They won't be thinking of a place that has good hunting grounds or place to build a temporary shelter. They will be living in RVs, tents and motels. They will be purchasing their food. They will, therefore, need money unless they are resourceful enough to barter a skill in exchange for their immediate needs. I've observed that most of them set aside savings from these jobs they hate, leave and return to work long enough to save for the next adventure. It's not completely free, but it's hardly sedentary. The more common idea of a modern American nomad is one who lives in one place for a short time and moves to another with all their possessions. I refer to them as "one year nomads". I would be considered part of this category.

You could argue the consequences and benefits of each lifestyle until the end of days. I've done both for different reasons. Even while buying my first house I was thinking of when I would be able to go away again and where I wanted to go this time. I have as many stories to tell about my life as nomad as I dreamt up when I first wondered, "What's out there?" They are memories that will entertain me for years, but there is a hefty toll on relationships from moving frequently. You just lose track of people over time. Once too much time passes it's hard to reconnect.

I don't think it's actually a decision that you make. You are either born to feel gravitation or you're not. Those that fall into the traveling lifestyle due to discontentment will eventually return to a permanent home. Those that are born to feel gravitation will spend the rest of their lives wanting no matter where they are and will always want to go somewhere.

First Rate Star Pole

2008-08-14T00:43:00.011-05:00

Truths I know today -

I manufacture "his" and "her" scissors.
He's not a one trick pony.
Distractions are patient.