The publisher signed off on this — “Trudge ahead with J’s piquant social commentary. He’s three sheets north of south.” — but I just sent a one with a different ending to the copy editor, so we shall see. In the meantime, and because the chance exists that this may never see the light of actual publication by next week, I’m pasting the sucker in here. Enjoy, or whatever.
Nothing Has Changed?!
By John H. Farr
Already the mocking has begun, but all you need to do is open your eyes.
We did the other day in Santa Fe, spending just enough time at Dillard’s to score some picked-over bedding and towels on major sale. When I helpfully suggested to my wife that we take a look around the mall to see what other businesses were still there – it had been many months since we last visited – she turned to me with a look of pain and horror that might accompany enforced presence at an autopsy and declared, “I think we just need to escape…”
It was true, of course. My own psychic shields have always been raised when entering such places, but now even I was struggling, for the disaster was absolute: aside from a handful of ancient walkers, the stores were virtually empty. The pastel colors left over from previous renovations made me want to vomit, and everything about the experience screamed I was an idiot for merely being there. Despite the chemically-perfumed and filtered air, we knew we were in the presence of Death: “It’s so 20th century,” she added as we picked up the pace and headed for the exit, grateful for new sheets but feeling vaguely sick and guilty.
“I feel like I need…” her words trailed off, the way they do when she’s either at a loss for words or afraid to say what she really feels.
“A purgative?”
“YES, exactly!”
Dillard’s had been an exercise in keeping it down, though perhaps we needn’t have been so fastidious. The store was utterly packed with merchandise, most of it 70 percent off except for the sheets (no matter how bad things are, people need something to sleep on, I guess). But during the hour we spent inside, I saw one other couple shopping, or maybe they were only looking for the restrooms. Salespeople stood around in twos and threes, talking amongst themselves, then wandered off to refold untouched piles of shirts. The few who made eye contact with me turned away quickly in embarrassment. I felt like I was visiting a prison.
The world isn’t coming to an end, of course. Far from it.
To recover, we headed for the 2nd Street Brewery for a couple of pints and something to eat, even though it was just a little after 4:00 p.m. As the “meet me after work” crowd showed up, we reveled in the scene. “The real Santa Fe,” my wife observed, and she was right: there were hippies, professionals, laborers, kids with babies, and a fat guy with “Chick Magnet #1” emblazoned on a filthy T-shirt. Our waitress seemed happy to have a job, the fish & chips were perfect, and we were both in heaven. In short, the vitality of the venue was both extraordinary and a relief.
Safely back in Taos, I reflected on the news of the day. The lunatics calling for more tax cuts obviously have someone else go buy their underwear, and the same Wall Street crowd is at the helm in Washington. Nothing has fundamentally changed for them or for the pundits crying, “We told you so!” over legislative gridlock, and nothing will unless it all comes tumbling down.
I’m not worried about a so-called “stimulus,” because the change no legislation can affect has already arrived. The system isn’t dying, it’s DEAD. (What seems to be activity is just the pieces of the carcass, dropping down the mountain in a quiet avalanche of bones.) I feel it in my heart, and I’m not worried: crawling from the wreckage, we might even start to care about each other, who knows?
Meanwhile, our nine-pound cat just jumped up on the table where I’m sitting, three times her own height.
(Without a hint of grunt or strain, as if she were a flash of light…)
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“The avalanche has already started. It is too late for the pebbles to vote.”
-Vorlon Ambassador Kosh, “Babylon 5″
You understand that I’m reacting to Dillard’s and the news o’ the day, right?
I don’t want everything to go to hell any more than the next man. But it sure looks like the courage to create something new on a grand scale hasn’t yet arrived. Not surprising, but a shame.
Oh well. Buckle up!
“Understanding is a three-edged sword.”
-Kosh (again)
A TOTAL “aside” … I too, enjoy the REAL Santa Fe vs the Santa FAKE I too often fall into the trap of visiting when there….Again, just an aside ……Stay Warm…and – as you say – Buckle Up !! Steve in Colder than Taos – Oklahoma….except they say it will be near 70 today, depending upon which TV WeatherLIAR one watches….
It’s finally happened, i’ve been officially laid off, It’s been going down the tubes for over a year, got my letter, dated 01-23-09, today, and had to ask about it, just a little late in getting it from the clowns at corporate HQ . Pretty much like everyhwere these days, it’s getting worse, not sure if i want to be buckled in or thrown from the wreck to take my chances. It’s been too late for far to long, in my humble opinion. Got plenty of wood to make it till spring. Will really appreciate the bit of warm weather coming, time to tend to the still, the only trickle down theory that works as planned!
Staying warm in merryland
Aw, man… sorry about that, Jeff. Understand perfectly about ambivalence re buckled in vs. thrown from the wreckage. I think there may be opportunity in the chaos, though.
Stay in touch, brother. There will be many things to talk about!