Meet 'n Greet

I don't know why I let it bother me. I mean, it's not as if it's anything personal. It's not as if I don't know how to lighten up or anything. I guess it didn't help that I was already fuming over the condition of the sidewalks in town and my efforts to navigate them (and the curbs) with a stroller (and not the more maneuverable three wheelers, either, mind you). But then I passed the two "gentlemen". I use that term very loosely because, to me, 'gentleman' describes one who is courteous, mannerly...etc. I don't know if they were tourists, business owners, partners of business owners, friends of business owners, potential business owners, summers, renters or March of Dimes. They looked like wiseguys, but that's just me judging a book by the cover and I should know better than to say something like that. It's not like there was a great deal of foot traffic there on Weldon's Way at 10:30 a.m. on a beautiful spring Saturday. It's not like a large woman in a bright green fleece coat, a bucket hat and a huge STROLLER isn't somewhat noticeable. It's not like I didn't give them every opportunity to be polite, what with my turning toward them as they approached me, giving a big smile and waiting for eye contact so that they (or I) could say 'good morning', as I am so often inclined to do with locals and tourists alike. But there was no eye contact, no nod in my direction as if to say "Hello, local lady, I don't know the custom here and I'm from a big city where we don't greet each other, so I'll nod in your direction because my mother brought me up right. They didn't even pause long enough in their conversation to look like they didn't know what to do. They kept talking and even turned away from me a little more. So, apparently, their mothers did NOT bring them up right.

I was born in a city. Raised in the 'burbs. Loved my lifestyle. Lived in cities all my life until here. And I didn't just become the overly friendly person I am when I moved here! You're telling me these two guys of an obviously certain age didn't know to nod at the lady and her baby? Are we not on a small island? Were we not the only three people on the street at the time? Actually...

No. About fifteen yards down the way, there was a girl/lady/woman/hard to tell walking briskly with that look that so many girls from the 'big city' have. The brisk walk the walk for your safety while you're out in the open like a hunted moose until you reach the...aahhh...security of parked cars and the inside of a building. But I digress...

Shake it off, warbler, move on...

Blogs Are Bustin'

Blogs are bustin' out all over. Locals (and some not so locals) have a lot to say and sometimes feel silly saying it in somebody else's space. Especially when folks like me, with a lot of hot air, take up so much room and can't stick to the subject.

Today is gray and rainy. It's left me indoors and feeling homesick. It also puts me in mind of what it means to openly express one's preference for someplace other than Block Island. It is, to some extent, a certain ostracization. And I can understand that. I mean, I am as loyal to my hometown as Block Islanders' are to theirs. But it's not like anybody wanted to keep me here, either.

A few years ago, I worked at one of the Mom and Pop stores here on the island when it was under a different ownership. Young couple with kids, very nice, very birkenstock. The wife was not from here and she told people very matter-of-factly that she didn't like living on Block Island, it wasn't for her, and she wanted to go home. It was so awe-inspiring (in both bad and good ways) to watch how people - especially those born and/or raised here - responded to her. I had older residents say to me, in reference to her, "She should go ahead and move. If she hates Block Island we don't want her here." As I get closer to moving off the Island, I have to wonder how many people say that about me. And I think, as I did about this poor girl, that it has nothing to do with hating Block Island and everything to do with loving her own people.

I don't hate Block Island. I love it. I love the people who have made differences in my life. Block Island has both saved me and destroyed me and saved me again. Growing up, I have seen more evil than most people care to acknowledge exist in the world. I spent the first half of my adult life pretending the bad stuff no longer existed because I had run away from it. Block Island taught me about betrayal, addictions, cliques, respect, character, honor, dignity, community service, civic pride and...most importantly, Block Island has been the catalyst for me to discover who I truly am. Lo and behold - it's actually the person I wondered if I could ever be. Block Island contains the dregs of humanity - and the angels of the universe. The phrase "Block Island takes care of its own" pertains more to the group you are involved in and what that "care" consists of...but I digress. That is grist for another mill.

I am moving from here. It is a mixed blessing. I am not moving home which was my intention in leaving, for the most part. I have many things to offer a community, and Block Island would have/could have appreciated my efforts with support from the people my talents would effect. But I cannot afford a house here. My child, who is not an athlete, has no viable after school activities geared toward her interests and there is no mall for her to hang out with her friends (and that's a bad thing?). I tried, for many years, to find a venue that would allow me to contribute my talents to the community and enrich the community's cultural offerings beyond bar or religious music. But there was very little physical or financial support for such efforts. I do not enjoy having to "make a day of it" for pediatrician's appointments with a six month old baby and a sulky teenager. I don't have someplace on the other side where I can stay when the boat is windy. I don't have a great deal of disposable income to shop until the 5 pm boat. And I don't fly.

My husband is directly descended from several of the original 16. His roots here are strong, deep and very, very loyal. He is not the most charming or personable character one can find on Block Island - but he loves it (real love of his roots and his people) more than anyone I've met. But he, too, deserves a life with his own home. And a way to afford that home that will allow him to aid in the raising of his children, which is something he has yet to be able to participate in and so desperately wishes to do. He deserves to make his own decisions and have somebody else take his garbage to the dump. I know what it is that he is giving up by moving - because I am that loyal to my hometown. It is not an easy thing. Maybe, when the relatives have all died off and our children own the family property (how heartless, I know) we will return. But by then, we'll be the older, gray haired folks with our own property (in the family for hundreds of years) - the kind we're always bitching about in our blogs. And by then, there still will be no venue for my contributions and I will be too tired to try and continue.

That being said...the crocus are out, the grass is turning greener, the earth is slowly slipping on her spring coat. People are smiling just a little more and the air carries that earthy smell that hints of summer and so much potential.