Meghan Daum and Rob Walker
Good morning, Rob,
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StumbleUponLet me just say right off that I did not watch the presidential address last night, so anything I might have to say on that score is being filtered through my (no doubt left-leaning) "information routine." Other than reading the Lincoln Journal Star (which doesn't run Funky Winkerbean), the routine is actually not all that different than it was in New York. It's just that instead of dashing into the lobby in my pajamas and trying to grab the New York Times before anyone sees me, I read it online. I can't get the Times delivered out here and usually can't find the daily anywhere, so I read it on the computer while listening to NPR. Of course I usually read the book reviews and such first, and after awhile I start feeling guilty that I haven't begun my workday, so I check my e-mail again and log off. One thing I love to do is listen online to my favorite local public radio shows from New York City, such as On the Line and New York and Co., as well as Harry Shearer's LeShow, which originates from KCRW in Santa Monica. It's only since Christmas that I've had a computer that will play Real Audio or get me on the Internet without freezing the whole system, so I'm still pretty enthralled with the whole Web information scene. I agree that it sort of diminishes certain benefits of isolation that might be derived from living here, but on the other hand, part of my whole "experiment" in rural living was to see to what degree geography can be rendered irrelevant by technology (i.e., that commercial that shows the executive mom blowing off an important meeting and taking her young daughters to the beach, wherein she takes the meeting from her cell phone and no one's the wiser).
By the way, I'm writing this message from a haystack in the lower 40 acres. And you'd never know! Think I'll trade some stocks now. Think I'll download "Stan." Hey, a bald eagle just flew over! Why won't AT&T put me in a commercial?
Anyway, the reason I didn't watch the presidential address was that I had to attend a meeting about a federal grant that Lincoln has received to re-evaluate and change systems of care for emotionally disturbed juveniles who are in trouble with the law. I've been hired to act as a sort of publicist for the project, and even though I have no idea what I'm doing yet, it's the kind of thing that makes me appreciate being here. Not only is it a way to make a little extra cash and get involved in the community, but it has a similar effect to trying to keep the door from blowing off the hinges. In other words, it gives me the feeling (and perhaps it's illusory) that I'm actually involved in the substance of something rather than engaging in pseudo-pithy analysis of something that the culture has already sanctioned as hip or "zeitgeisty." It's difficult to use words like "substance" without sounding hopelessly collegiate, but at the risk of sounding like some burned-out corporate type who says "I'd really like to work with my hands," I must say that life out here is about as close to working with my hands as I'll probably ever get, and it's wildly valuable. Unlike you, I actually think that dealing with subfreezing temperatures and livestock is far cooler than knowing the better bars of Lincoln. Granted, I didn't grow up with livestock. The only place I've lived other than a big city is a suburb of that city, where being a functional human was more a matter of understanding the curbside trash collection schedule than going out before dawn to feed large animals. But even if I don't stay here forever, I'm sure I'll benefit much more from things like learning about the juvenile courts of a small Midwestern city and caring for my sweet pig Loretta (her Web site's under construction) than knowing about the better bars. But that's just me. I had a lot of catching up to do, life experience-wise, when I moved out here. I mean, I could barely drive. Evidently the president called for "character education" last night. Guess I'm a home-schooler.
So, just how fat was your Tuesday?
Meghan
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Reader Comment From The Fray:
I have a suggestion for some 'reality based' TV programs. How about Refugee Boat? We could take contestants and put them in a third world, war torn country and give them thirty days to figure out how to make a raft, find food and get set afloat before despotic soldiers order them to dig their own graves.
Or, how about Street Survival? In this one, the contestants must survive three months on the street with only the clothes on their backs and no identification. They would be required to jump trains, sleep outdoors in alleyways and in shelters, and generally try to survive their new found compatriots, welfare rolls and dumpster diving.
And, how about this beauty? Prison Guards would be a reality based show where one would become a prison guard in one of the most feared prisons in the United States. In this show contestants get thirty days training and then must work as a prison guard in the most violence-prone sectors of the prison for at least two months. Talk about ratings! I know that I would personally be glued to the screen.
Let's give vanity and greed a real price. Instead of paying people to play the mind games most of us have to wade through in our regular work week, let's up the ante a little. I can't wait until the spotlights burn and we get to see one of these numbnuts have to face a freight train's worth of trouble rushing headlong into them.
--Rogue
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