Day Five--Underground Freeway/Notes from the Underground

Notes from the Underground
Underground Freeway–Day Five, Tuesday, May 26, 2009
By Pi Kielty

I packed my camp at the public grounds in Dark Water Falling at 10:30 AM. I drove into the little city’s center that led from the interstate freeway, past the fast foods, gas stations, and superstore.

I parked Lil’ Casino on the main street when I saw an open parking spot near a sign with arrows, one of them pointing to a side street to the left with the words “Post Office,” the real mainstay of any place that is “official” in the eyes of Midwest American civilization. I needed to buy three stamps, one to mail the letter written in sorrow to my parents the rainy night previous on my writing table in my tent.

The cloudy gray morning showered a cold, wet spring rain that landed in rapping cacophonies on my thick woodland waterproof smock. The downtown of this city harked back to the red and brown brick buildings, and some of white granite, from 60 or 70 years ago, looking sharp and “historic” after the state-wide main street restoration movement rebuilt the rustic memories into the new functioning antiques. This is how people say, “The way things used to be, in times [erroneously] simple to understand.” The window trimmings painted in sharp red, white or kelly green matched the clarity and detailing of the window painted letterings and hanging signs saying “we do this,” “we do that” and “we are this,” and “café,” “tavern,” “library,” “barber,” “bakery,” and “hardware.” The city’s downtown district looked full of commerce, and the cars driving and parked, and the people walking around, gave Dark Water Falling the human life bustle that defines a small, isolated mid-state city.

The deception of times grew greater in my city walk this morning. On a dark day like today, the store fronts Potemkin-ized, lacking depth beyond the wall, an illusion of a soul in a body. I observed too much of me looking into the glass, and did not see the plain view in my sight. Near noon on a Tuesday morning, too many buildings emanated no light. Out of that grimmer illusion, the same signs protruded attractive red and white and blue colors of an advertisement from the same “Hometown and Patriotic Real Estate Co.” What they do is sell, and so many buildings and their businesses empty of light, they were for sale because they failed. On the walk, I saw the white paper signs in the window of a corner bar, “Closed until further notice. Sorry for any inconvenience.”

I wondered how what transpires here in the downtown could have meaning for others like it. Does this foreshadow the sign of these rhymes in a requiem metered for all communities losing the soul in the life of their land and people? Twenty years ago, scholars debated the end of history, as dictatorships and police super-states fell apart. It meant the value of a vote for all, democracies everywhere. Free commerce and prosperity of plenty with no one short of food, shelter and clothing in due time, for the entire world. Freedom of speech, of worship; from fear and want. America achieving the ultimate destiny of an imperium ruling the world in the best altruistic interest for the benefit of peace and stability. NO MORE WARS of aggression, conquest, extermination, for scarcity. The end of history foretold good things in our future. The Clash of Cultures delayed, and overlooked, not thought about, nor did anyone care. The enfranchisement of decision-making power and universal wealth would prevent the conflicts of politics, the prosperity bringing a new order of peace, in excess of any foreseeable needs.

Dark Water Falling looks fine, but without the life of people and their commerce, it heads into the future, past the end of history–into the Post-History–uncertain. Fashionable, trendy, apocryphal architecture in plenty will only degenerate into ruble without the life of people to maintain them, to sustain the community. Hopefully, Dark Water Falling avoids this fate, as I hope my own community does as well. The emptiness before, in darker days of other desperate states of mind and commerce, took the patience and work to revive and rebirth. Historians call that the Great Depression. How many intervals in 80 years since brought down what built itself up before? What interventions did it require to become what now seems complete logical bankruptcy of reasonable ideas?

The “politikhans,” like governments and industry Mongol and Moghul rulers of power and wealth in history, paint sunny pictures over wrecked masterpiece canvasses of sound living, frugal society, in the contemporary wreckage of the 21st century Crisis. “Green shoots of optimism,” “recovery on its way,” “we are digging our way out of this hole,” etc., etc. etc. Do people really believe that a bottom up problem, the problem that begins with each of us, actually has a top-to-down solution? Fools are fools, but unquestioning followers always stand out more foolish.

The end of history? What comes next for people without jobs? For if no business exist, no one is hired, and no incomes made, and no money to buy things to make business profitable. The purpose of business is profit. The purpose of government is to increase, not decrease, the range of liberty to do better for ourselves. With money’s face value less than the worth of the paper, and less valuable than the metal weight o f its coin, “better off and happier” becomes more, not less, the delusion of those who believe in the ghost of the dollar goddess.

The end of history starts with make believe store fronts, make believe money, make believe busy. The dark windows of a lightless store on a heavy gray day glares back the uncertainty of our own future and spirit in a reflecting abyss of memory or dream, our lost failures. How will we wake up from a possible nightmare in the making if we do not see the reason, or take the action ourselves?

What happens to a small city, itself its own self-defined community, if business draws no life? One wonders who are the real ignorant and actual apathetic: Leaders or led; and to what degree? The end of history was in the past. The Post-History in the present invites us to the challenge to avoid a fate inevitable unless we care, unless we act, all on our own . The bad choices become now–you’re liberty exchanged for your security. You’re freedom in trade for some food. Your enslavement to the owner to get steady work.

Would people trade for fascism to be free of worry and want?

Communities of people tend the land and water their tree of life by living, and living life full to its potential. Questioning things, like political barking dog-bytes, brings more sunlight to the tree of life. Sunlight exposing the errors or lies gives the tree strength to grow the boundless fruit of liberty, the plentiful food enough for everyone.

Therefore, the “Question” for day five: “What can you and I do to be a positive good for our own life that helps all in the community of our neighbors ?”

All these questions, just to mail an honest letter of my fears to parents at home.