RUDIMENTS, pt. 618
(yeah, that stupid)
I never took very well to
change; I liked things
remaining as they were
and seldom saw anything
changed be changed for
the better. Even up and
down Inman Avenue,
as miserable as those
little box-cubicles were
anything that anyone did
to them just made things
worse. It was the sort of
design that was fixed
into its closed shape and
- unless there was a
complete and wholesale
re-doing of the design
itself - the revamp was
bound to fail. And a lot
of people tried: top-heavy
with new windows, dormers
and treatments. There were
carports attached, garages
erected out back. The usual
basic storm windows and
doors, little porch set-ups
- all on houses that really
could not afford the aesthetic
sacrilege. These were each
government-design in houses;
the cheap rectangles the
government was lording
out to returning soldiers.
It was all by design. It
was Stalinistic. I've read
the President Truman and
his bunch were running
quite scared as all those
demobilized military men,
(12 million men, hitting the
streets) AND the six million
women who'd been working in
military and defense plants,
many of whom were quite
unhappy again about having
to give up those jobs, were
back and hitting the streets.
They feared, the President and
his men did, unrest and even
riots in the streets if conditions
did not quickly materialize to
re-condition all of this back
into some semblance of the more
ordered and structured harmony
of previous times. "In 1945,
the social machine that
controlled the destiny of
women was reactivated." It's
difficult to understand now,
but that meant government
imposition of order through
quick, new, mass construction,
rows upon rows of start-up
homes, mortgage and
college-entrance opportunities
extended with ease, and the
entire premise of the passive
wife back in the domestic
bliss of home and hearth.
And that's then exactly
what was implemented,
and hello Inman Avenue.
"Many institutions were
'enlisted' in the effort:
government, church, schools,
the law, but most of all the
media and film. Strong,
women characters would
disappear from the screen
and be replaced by 'buffoons,'
passive sex objects, or 'thorns
in the man's side'. Medical
practitioners (especially
psychologists and psychiatrists),
were involved in convincing
women that their accomplishments
were unhealthy." As Kate Millet
put it, "Once this bigotry has
acquired the cachet of science,
the counterrevolution may
proceed pretty smoothly."
-
That was the way one had
to live, and such was the
creed one lived by. Every
so often someone would
pop up who didn't fit that
credo. They stood right out
- in an immediate fashion.
The yard, the cars, whatever.
We had one guy, on the bare
side of the street (there were
sort of two variations of
foliage available : one
totally barren and devoid
of form, and the other tree'd
and still forested, in that
small way of Avenel
backyards0. All the fronts
were bare - lawns only,
please. Well, this one guy,
long about five years in,
had gotten it into his head
to completely cover his
front and rear property
with trees. And, no less,
a carport too! In a period
of time that probably took
us to 1959 or so, it became
apparent (that was 6-years
in) that this guy had no
plans for the usual trimming
or lessening of the tree and
shrub growth. In due time
the yard was completely
tree'd and covered. By that,
he was branded. No one
bothered him over it, but,
let's say, he had no
friends either.
-
As a kid, well, what do
you make of something
like that - if you even
notice? I passed that house
daily, on the ways back
and forth to school, and
was always more interested
in the red call box on a
nearby telephone pole,
with its light always on
and the 'secure' finger-
pull for fire and all that
emergency stuff. That's
what caught my eye, day
after day (yes, back then
kids really did use to
walk to school; there
weren't any buses or the
sorts of clingy parents
with cars. You were on
your old, and more power
to you. Certainly not like
today - locked-down school
doors and a daily police car in
the driveway. Pretty pathetic).
In any case, Freedom then
was in the mind, if you
grabbed it early enough
and claimed it - otherwise
you could end up no
different than your parents.
Not the physical, tangible
stuff; I rather mean the
mental and the unseen
entrapments.
-
In the same way as, when
I carefully listen to the Rite
of Spring, by Stravinsky, I
can't visualize nor understand
why people would have rioted
over it, get up and stormed
out at first hearing, (in fact,
it comes off as a big bore,
actually). I to this day cannot
understand the milieu I was
somehow born into. It never
fit me, and I also didn't ever
understand why it became
mine. My entire life has, it
seems, been lived at
cross-purposes with
the idea - in my mind -
of any relationship with
my Creator, whatever it may
be, or have been, and to the
supposed points of grace and
goodness which were to be
represented in this life. To
make one such as me care
about it. Why was I born so
- at such cross-purposes?
I find a wonderful patch of
woods and dirt, unkept for
years - and some political
bastard or real estate type
comes by and it's a Dunkin'
Donuts the next week, or
a strip mall or supermarket
of a string of shops, phones,
burgers and adult toys, all
in a row. To the complete
satisfaction of most everyone
else, but to the most
detrimental results for me
and my worldview. This
happens over and over,
as the finer things are
taken from us and things
much wronger take their
places. Why should I or
anyone want to live in a
world so far from perfect?
-
The best thing about it all
- that guy with the heavily
tree'd yard - he kept the
best family profile on the
block; I'm saying. It was a
bit like the old south - there
was always him and usually
his son too (both named
Freddie) sitting together
outside, under the carport
and all the cool auto stuff
that was strewn about there,
working on a vehicle or an
engine of some sort, always
engaged with each other,
sitting around, maybe having
a beer too.That always
fascinated me. At about that
same stage of my own life,
my father and I were apt to be
quarreling over which side
of the page a magazine was
printed on. Yeah, that stupid.
-
The weird thing here is :
I haven't absolutely any idea,
having left town as quick as a
match goes out, (which isn't
always a sure thing either,
right?), how any of this ended
up, or what became of anyone
or where they went or lived or
died. Going back past there now,
you'd never know any of this
ever existed. The yard's
as bare now as any other, and,
without actually checking right
now, I'm not even really sure
if that old carport and work
area for cars, and the rest of
the yard around it too, is even
still there. Such is the change
I always avoided.
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