I’m back in the Real World, land of technology, television, refrigerators, stoves, electricity. We camped out at Rosewater for 9 days straight with minor errands into town for fire permits or for a ‘tater from the Tater Shack. Otherwise, we were internet and phone free for the stay. After day three, I didn’t really miss these conveniences.
I spent my time chopping wood for the fire to boil creek water for drinking. We partially rebuilt the chicken coop, started a garden, removed brambles, improved the campsite, cooked on cast iron over a fire, and fought off tenacious legions of ticks. We weren’t exactly roughing it; we had many modern camping tools, but it gave us a good perspective of what to expect out at Rosewater full time. Middle Tennessee entered Spring while we were out there and therefore tornado season is starting up. One of our projects is constructing a subterranean tornado shelter near the huts we plan to build (We also surveyed good trees to fell for these huts).
I placed my tent near the creek itself and enjoyed the crackle of the water all night. People buy sound machines that make a similar din, but I found myself fortunate to have the real thing. I would wake up in the morning, usually with a tick crawling around on my person, burn the tick with my lighter, and watch all the bugs meander around under the rainfly but over the tent mesh. I would just lay there and recount my dreams (which were vivid out there; dreams within dreams at times), throw my boots on, grab a kettle of water out of the creek for coffee, and resurrect the fire. A epiphany I had during these chores was that since we can have things we want so easily without waiting for them (for instance, start the fire to boil the water to have coffee and warm breakfast) we easily forget how wonderful life is because we simply don’t have the time to think about life itself. We think so often about how to be more efficient without realizing that downtime may be necessary to simply stop and think about our situation.
Another idea chain I had was that camping was fun. I wondered why I enjoyed camping so much. My conclusion came while doing these sometimes exhausting chores. Everything I’m doing, from felling a tree to chopping wood to having a fire, is hard work that benefits myself. The profit is mine and my friends. In the Real World, hard works’ profit tends to go to someone else who no longer does any hard work. Managers in suits and ties (I interpret nice clothes in the workplace to mean you aren’t there for hard work) tell you what to do, and reap the profit while giving you a dividend. Now to be clear, I’m not knocking this system in the fullest sense. I’m simply realizing that I would rather have the full fruit of my labor instead of having a small dividend to share with someone else. Employers and Employees should be partners; equals striving to prosper together and sharing the profit equally. Instead, the system is rigidly geared in a hierarchy. Managers that don’t do any real work make more profit. Why is that? Didn’t the Employee stock that shelf and check out the customer? Isn’t that the crux of retail? What exactly did the Manager do? Make the schedule? What is more valuable? Paper pushing or pallet pulling?
The weather was either warm and sunny or dark and rainy. Thunderstorms graced us a few times. Rain flooded our tents once or twice. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. I’m now at the farmhouse six miles away, clean, but feeling slightly uneasy. The washing machine is going. An electric buzz is coming from the walls. I don’t really expect you, the reader, to understand this feeling unless you remove yourself from indoors for a long time period.
One day at Rosewater, we decided not to work very hard and be leisurely. We floated around in the chilly creek on the warm sunny day with beers and a flask of whiskey. Scott read on a tree that over hung the water. Court paddled around in a tube while Oshinn and I manned the raft we found in the basement of the farmhouse. We saw a fairly large bass, several snakes, giant spiders (or octopuses to some), and crawdads meandering below us in the shallows. The water was so clear; the trees were so green. It was subtle and serene and beautiful.
A neighbor came by and introduced himself. His name is Justin; he is 28. He grew up down the street and after a few stints in other places is back home. He came by twice; the second time he ambled right out of the wooded hills just before our ‘hobo stew’ was done. He seemed to be in conflict with society as we all are and only at peace away from it. At one point, he asked us if we were going to vote for Obama; We all said no. He said, pararphrasing, “Oh good. That nigger didn’t do any good, and he just helps his nigger friends. It would have been different if actually did something good“. This is clearly a racist statement, but I found it remarkable that he was willing to acknowledge that Obama could have done something beneficial. I wonder if Justin would have said differently if Obama wasn’t so disappointing. Anyhow, I wanted to share this encounter, controversial as it may be. Traveling is important because one meets people with different ideas. I do not agree with Justin’s word use, but boiled down his ideas aren’t all that extreme. This blog is not about politics; it is about traveling and people. Inevitably though, Politics will find its way in here, to give the full portrait of a man we met here in the woods of Tennessee.
