Jetsons meets Little House on the Prairie

When I was little, I was immersed in the Little House on the Prairie books and TV show. Living in Arden, I sometimes imagine I am living in Walnut Grove--but with electricity. Like Laura, I live in a rustic house that looks like it was cobbled together by elves or someone's Pa. We are nestled outside a forest with other houses that look like they came into existence in a similar magic fashion--and are held together in a ways that have baffled home inspectors. We have a creek or two, neither of which is quite a fishing hole material, but one is playing host to a family of beaver this summer.  And when the winter was really bad two years ago, we all banded together until the train came through with supplies and food.  Okay, the thing about the train didn't happen, but we did act pretty neighborly toward one another.

I would say that the way that my life most resembles the Little House books has to do with the community spirit. We don't have sing-alongs, spelling bees or church picnics. Instead we have the Arden Concert Gild, Saturday dinners, and the talent showcase of ACRA summer camp. People walk the narrow streets to get to the events. We chat and catch up. Gossip a little. Ask after the health of a neighbor. Report on a tree down on one of the paths. And yes, we have our very own mean-spirited Nelly Olson who sometimes makes life miserable for those who cross her path. I don't have to name names. Nelly is an archetype who makes her own presence known.

It would be the quaintest of lifestyles except for all the technology. My husband is an IT guy. While I was reading LHOTP books, he was hacking the very early video games so that he could trounce every high score his brother obtained rightfully. Mark's predilection for programming means that above our rough hewn fireplace mantle we have Hue lighting which he can control by his iPhone. I can control them, too, but I haven't found the practice as convenient or user friendly as Mark has. What was wrong with our dimmer switches? In addition we have home security, house cameras, dead bolt we can activate with our touch if our iPhone is on our person. We drive electric or hybrid automobiles. From under our carport, built in the peg fashion, the blue light of our chargers glow against the backdrop of the dark forest.  Computers. Tablets. We have all the gadgets, sans the new iWatch. I am not entirely comfortable with the new technology. It isn't that I am a technophobe. It is just that I don't like the fact that my life changes so quickly before I get used to it all. For example, last week, I  rented a DVD from a grocery store kiosk only to come home and find out that we don't have a DVD drive anywhere anymore. My computer doesn't even have a drive. Mark said he would come home and hook one up, but I had rented the DVD to watch in his absence, knowing he had an after-work engagement. I was so mad that I paid to stream it, cursing that I just paid twice to rent the same mediocre movie.

When I feel that technology is closing in, I sometimes do something that takes me away from it. I read a book, the kind with actual pages made from the pulp of a tree. Or I can some homemade salsa. I sew a skirt. Or I poke a stick at my garden (I am not a great gardener, but I make stabs.) Mark, too, seeks refuge in the natural world after his day working as the head of an IT Department. His latest battle, one that Pa would approve of, entails wrestling our modest leasehold away from the grips of invasive plant life. He is working to eradicate the bamboo, ivy, and lesser celandine which is the bane of village gardeners and the Arden Forest Committee. And jointly, we go for our hikes. The back and forth from nature to technology creates a balance--mostly. 

I am typing this blog post on my MacBook Pro while wearing socks I knit for myself. The windows are open, the breeze is blowing in. It is getting dark in my living room, but not quite knowing the best way to turn on the lights, I will sit in the dark until it is time to walk to the ACRA Summer Program Open House. 

Summer in a Box

Moving to Arden, I was rather meticulous. I say, I, because I did most of the packing. We moved in June 2013, almost two years ago. I started packing in November 2012 after our Thanksgiving meal. I had no idea where we were moving (Arden had yet to be conformed) just that we were indeed moving. I packed my china first because, after Thanksgiving, we wouldn't need it for a while. I was careful, wrapping each plate in paper, stacking it in strong boxes, labeling each with a bar coded sticker, and giving each a colored dot that indicated the destination room. In the case of the china the dot signified that it was for dining room (which is ironic since our new house doesn't have a dining room). In all, I think the boxes numbered into the 190's. (I can't be sure; I took the moving app off my phone after the move). We moved all the boxes into a storage unit in April where they lived for two months prior to our move in June. I didn't lose one item to breakage or one box to the ethers, but then again, we moved ourselves and were very careful. Even with all this organization, I had periods after the move, when the boxes were stacked oh, so, high, that I burst into tears from the feeling of overwhelm. What had we done? Our realtor and friend, Cynthia, brought us cronuts (donut croissant hybrid) that her husband, and our friend David, had made. Baked goods helped.

After a week, I felt better. We had stacks of empty boxes. I put the call out on the informal town bulletin board on Facebook that I had boxes to share if anyone needed them. Our neighbor Betty claimed some to help move her art classroom. This started a conversation in which Betty found out that I had been an art substitute and Viola! I had a gig the following school year subbing at the private school where Betty teaches. Other of our boxes went to the ACRA (Arden Community Recreation Association) Summer Program, so they could pack their supplies up after the program ended in July.

The summer program is a tradition that goes back seventy years in Arden. In its current incarnation, kids who live in the Ardens, or whose parents or grandparents live in the Ardens, can register for the donation-driven, five-week program. Every morning for five weeks, Arden kids swarm to Buzz Ware Village Center to pick from one of at least five daily activities. They have a choice of art room, outdoor games, playground, indoor games including board games and foosball, puzzles, reading, and actives driven by special guests, who are usually members of the community sharing talents and hobbies with the next generation. Last years' guests led the kids in activities ranging from hip-hop dance to an Ardens history treasure hunt. I have not seen any program like it. Last year, our son was the one of the outdoor activities counselors, and I was a visiting guest, who taught the kids to make journals. I am totally enamored and transfixed by what goes on in this program. It accomplishing so many goals, from cohesion (the kids in Arden go to quite an array of different schools) to intergenerational interaction, from community spirit to plain old fun. The kids can't wait for ACRA to begin. Many of the summer program participants start their mornings at swim team practice and then they walk across the street to ACRA Summer Program. They are busy and active. The teen counselors, many of them alumni, have employment. As an ACRA board member, I got to sit in on interviews for the counselors. Time and time again, the candidates sited the freedom to choose their activities as the reason they loved ACRA Summer program. Parents feel safe in sending their kids somewhere where their they are engaged with something other than an electronic screen. Kids had the autonomy that keep them coming back for more.

Today is the day that we move the boxes from the sheds and complete the ACRA summer takeover of the Buzz. The town loses revenue for the five weeks because it cannot rent the space for parties or events, but they deem the loss to be a worthy investment in the future. The takeover is quite a process from laying down and taping of carpets, to the removal of appliances. Last year when I helped I almost had an episode of PTSD because I had to carry boxes that still had the labels and stickers on them from my move. I don't mean to make light of PTSD, but moving was traumatic and to think about it, to this day, makes me a little queasy--except for the part where I crave a cronut. I will help with the Summer Program transition again today. I will carry the boxes with the knowledge that I am now a part of the cycle of the year here in Arden. Open the boxes. Bring on Summer.