Meditative Prose
Monday, 16 February 2009
Photo by MemaNH
I am curious as to what life holds for me and Sarah after the wedding. We love Burlington, but we’ve been talking about moving to a smaller town for a long time now. I was writing about Lewisburg the other day, and I got caught up in a rapture thinking about that place — not specifically Bucknell’s campus, although some of it (Bucknell Hall and the grove) has a kind of magical significance in my memory. But the town itself, with all its churches and old Victorian painted ladies, and the three-globed street lamps, and the river, and the railroad bridge, and the dogwoods and cherry trees and magnolias blooming… All that has contributed to my idea of the ideal town.
We’re not done with Vermont just yet. This spring we are going to join a car-share program and take day-trips to different small towns. There are so many parts of this beautiful state that we’ve heard about but never seen! There’s actually a region called “the Northeast Kingdom,” which is supposed to be especially beautiful. We are also considering a small town called Bellows Falls along the Connecticut River (Vermont’s border with New Hampshire), which, despite its small size, is supposed to have an incredible arts community.
I get the sense that the wedding will mark the beginning of another period of growth for us. Burlington is fun, but limiting in some ways, and I think we’re almost ready to pull up our stakes and move on.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
Photo by robokow
Back from Chicago. Flying in over Lake Michigan, the city looked like Burlington but a hundred times bigger. I got picked up from O’Hare in a white stretch limo, which took me, another woman who also works for the company, and the VP of Sales for a “waste management” company to our hotel. I made small-talk, but I was put off when the VP, who had a Virginia drawl, lamented that nobody in Florida wants to build landfills these days. It seems that with the current economic “downturn,” there is not as much new construction, and so less demolition & construction waste. Sales are down. How tragic!
This, apparently, is how America operates. Every company, my own definitely included, is trying to increase sales. It hardly matters what they’re selling, or whether or not anyone needs it, or if it is even good for people, let alone the land and the larger community of life. A handful of powerful people set sales budgets, and the rest of us scurry around trying to meet them, because we need to pay the rent. Meanwhile, schools don’t teach kids the virtues of frugality, living simply, or even how to determine what is truly necessary — because that would be bad for the economy! (A hundred and fifty years ago, a good friend of mine wrote a book that deals with this, among other things.)
The trip wasn’t as bad as I expected. My roommate and I had compatible senses of humor. He was sarcastic and definitely kept things interesting by getting on the trainers’ nerves. The other folks there ranged from holy rollers, to utterly boring retail zombies, to inoffensive people on a mandatory business trip, to a few I got along with well, including one 38-year-old guy who still skateboards. I got to see the nine acre warehouse, which is like Mecca for textbooks. I ate lots of free food. I learned some things that should make my job easier, and heard plenty of things I don’t agree with.
As long as I need this job, I think I’ll be able to do it better (i.e. with less stress for me and my co-workers) now. But mostly, this trip made me want to get out of the business of selling for the sake of selling. All I want is meaningful work. Give me clay and a pottery wheel, and I’ll happily sell bowls and vases for the rest of my life.
