the dharma blog

i often think about why i write. what point is it that i want to make? i’ve had a hard time nailing that down. thinking about the road jim walsh has pursued (see previous post) and now thinking about what gary snyder once said, that the work of the poet is to give voice to his place, i think i have to figure out what it is about minnesota and the st. croix river valley that is important to me.

i’ve rambled on to ryan while standing in pioneer park, looking out over stillwater and the river and the bridge and the nsp plant, that you only have one home. most of us are lucky to have one hometown that we can identify with for the rest of our lives and that can not be replaced. if you spend your formative years in one place, no matter how long you live somewhere else, that place will always be your hometown and it can never be replaced.

last night scott, andy, slim and i were at the viking talking about development. i said i had read about those 30 some houses that got torched by “eco-terrorists” out in virginia and that ya know what, i’m actually pretty much cool with that. no one got hurt and goddammit, why is it okay for a small minority of greedy people to just destroy and build houses wherever they want, in a totally irresponsible manner?

scott came back with a perfectly valid response: that it’s difficult to reconcile being open to immigration (we hate the bigotry espoused by those who would close our borders and say ‘we were here first, you can’t come and enjoy our wonderful country’) and being so violently “anti-immigration” when it comes to our own community.

like i said, it’s a good point. my only response was that my feelings with what i’ve seen happen in stillwater and elsewhere in the valley aren’t about my politics but purely about my emotions. it just makes me sad to see places i used to go hike around in or ride my bike in paved over, covered in sod, and with big — really big — and tasteless — really tasteless — houses plopped into it. it makes me sad to drive along what once were quiet country roads that i could drive on at night and think about my life and find that those roads are being widened. that there are new driveways and new roads intersecting this old country road.

they’re taking away my hometown and that means that my kids won’t have the same experience growing up there that i did and… that makes me sad. and makes me feel powerless.

so, to whoever torched those big and tasteless homes on the edge of an endangered swamp in virginia, i hope you don’t get caught. i hope you feel empowered.

don’t look to me to start burning anything down. i’m a lover, not a fighter. and the fight is kind of all out of me. i think it’s time to get down to writing and to give voice to my place.