What does it all mean?
Ten and a half years wandering in the metaphorical high desert of the soul, scraping all the juicy pulp from whatever psychic skin I’m in, and now I’m finally here, hooray! But what happens now? This is the strangest trip I’ve ever been on, and let me tell you, I know from weird.
As a freshman, I roomed with the son of an Air Force general who jumped up straight in bed and saluted in his sleep. I lived in an 8 x 16 foot shack in Arkansas with a goat who let me squirt milk right into my coffee cup. In Germany, I worked in a television picture tube factory with Greek guys who ate onions like they were apples. Maryland was sensible but Calcutta on the Chesapeake. In San Cristobal, we had a geranium-eating rat in the attic. Now I live where people try to rent you houses with no plumbing and the second bedroom reserved for storing elk jerky and motorcycle parts. Compared to all this, being a woods hippie in the Ozarks was like heaven. (Hell, even not comparing, it was bliss.)
So here’s the thing:
Behold, a solidly built 1910 farmhouse in a faraway corner of the great state of Iowa! The windows go from your shins to the top of your head. There’s a full finished basement, a barn, and a garage. It sits in hilly wooded country on a paved road adjacent to a beautiful state park. There are almost EIGHT ACRES that go with it, and they’re asking $129,000. Way too much, probably, and I’ll bet they come down to move it. But even at that price, monthly payments would be less than half of what we pay now in Taos for a funky adobe hovel and a separate studio five miles away. Grrr. Jesus, do you know what I could do with eight acres of fields and woods?!? Anything… Grow whatever I wanted, build a spaceship, shoot a deer. Run around naked hollering like a loon. One could do worse, I tell you what.
There are thousands of places like this in poor old beat-up America, only none of them are here. This is beginning to stress me out somewhat, as I turn 65 in August and I’m not rich yet. What’s more, the place above is just a few miles from a county seat where the entire town is wired for fiber-optic Internet. You heard me. Maybe it even reaches out that far–I’m afraid to ask! One could ride or walk forever on deserted country roads. Birdies would chirp in the spring. The septic tank would work. Maybe.
No, I don’t want to move. I love this den of thieves and weirdos! On the other hand, well, on the other hand… Not counting a small down payment for which one or two old ladies have to die, moving there would save so much money, we’d be filthy rich. No big organic supermarket, no Natives, no mountains, no friends, no mud, but peace. Blessed, glorious peace, until the lynch mob comes to get me for not attending church.
Repeat: I DON’T WANT TO MOVE! I’d rather have a ranch, or at least a hovel with a closet. But where is it? Will I get a pony before I die? What exactly is staring me in the face besides oblivion? Are we buying a villa in Provence next year so I can have a beer with Robert Crumb? What the hell is going on here? I am open, Lord, show me what to do. Give me a decent home in Taos fast or tell me where to hide.
(The times they are a-changing, and I will soon be dead.)
Related posts:
- Taos Real Estate
- Our Current Taos Housing (?) Situation [Revised]
- Where to Live
- Taos Rents & Other Wonders
- Thinking of Moving to Taos? Be Careful!
Well, I totally believe you. My room at that Best Western was “okay,” just charmlessly...
{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
Cottonwood – weirdos, organic food, native population, mountains, inexpensive housing, warm weather. I have not encountered mud there. lol
Well, you’re from there, right? I’m just not drawn to Arizona, though, nor to yards with gravel instead of grass. Colored by the Family from Hell in Tucson, I know. Also, an average July high of 97° is not my cup o’ tea.
But we’ll talk once you get back, and please send me any relevant links. Besides the realtor.com ads, which do NOT entice me as much as what I’ve posted here–rocks and cactus I already got–I can’t find anything useful about Cottonwood online. It seems to be a nothingburger kind of place, so I await enlightenment from your end!
P.S. I did email the listing agent for info about broadband at the farm above. There actually is DSL.
If it helps, people from Iowa seem to be very down to earth and friendly. Here in Wisconsin we are generally happy if a bit overweight (beer, brats and frozen custard). I lived in Santa Fe for 8 years and was “kicked out” in 2003 (long story). Surrendering to “what is” has always worked well — allows the Universe to move into a situation and change it, as needed.
Yes, I know all about Iowa, and you’re right. My wife is from there and we’ve made many visits to Des Moines and Dubuque over the last 30 years!
Looking over the local details about the area where this farm is located kinda scares me, though. I think I’d go insane. I haven’t spent much time in Wisconsin, although I enjoy watching the trains come across the Mississippi River from there in Dubuque.
Right out of a tunnel in the sheer rock cliff face, did you know that?
Again, NOT looking to move, but open, if something presents itself. I’m really hoping that this awareness will kick something loose in the immediate vicinity, which would shut me up for a while. This post is mainly an eye-opening exercise, and I hope I see something.
Time to backpack Europe?
Well, I haven’t gotten that message yet. And actually, we did that in–ye gods–1983! Stayed in student hostels and a few places I was afraid to go to sleep.
I just have to say this:
I love reading all the gory and glorious posts you create! I love YOU and your crazy search for YOUR utopia. I LOVE your wife for hanging with you. I am sure SHE COULD write a book or two. And, someday, we need to have that coffee!
We will be in Taos for a whole week. Let me know if you would like to have a cup of coffee!
We leave for Taos, tomorrow. Our casita is in the final stages! We can actually sleep in it tomorrow night. Heat and a toilet is working. Life is very good!!