Though there’s no shortage of people here - someone is always around to talk to if you need it - it doesn’t mean it’s a person with whom I’d care to speak.
There is a painfully evident cultural gap between people here no matter the reason they are here, and not all of us are residents.
Many, like Sophie and I, live full-time in an RV. Others come and go in the manner that seasonal summer campers and transient laborers/skilled workers who live in campers do as their economic obligations require.
While these people live in their campers full time, the place they truly call home, “where the heart is,” is someplace else.
Their outlook on the place I and the other full-timers here call home naturally differs, and the reason is simple. Sophie and I are as transient to them as, well, they are to us.
And the fact remains that, among “us,” vast disparities exist. However, this doesn’t imply anything negative by any means.
Granted, some of these cultural differences go beyond traditional social or (fairly) superficial differences, such as liking country music more than rock music.
Or perhaps some might have humorous tendencies that lean more toward Larry the Cable Guy than by any of the polished, male-dominated, shirt-and-tie late night network hosts. You get the idea.
For my part, I grew up listening to rock music. However, I can appreciate country music and all music, really, on its merits based on musicians’ technical skill, live performance enjoyment and, yes, themes and lyrical relevance to my life.
I also get Larry the Cable Guy’s humor, and humor from all over the spectrum, really.
But I indulge myself with the above examples in other, probably very different ways than my neighbors.
For example, I prefer listening to jazz music at any time of the day, whether I’m waking up and making coffee or slip-sliding away to La-La Land.
I also prefer watching video documentaries and, well, writing here, on my blog and elsewhere about subjects of relevance to me.
But that doesn’t mean I haven’t had my share of crazy nights at basement parties where beer comes in kegs, and not cans or bottles.
Where “smoke ‘em if you got ‘em” was something we used to say about cigarettes or, on special nights, cigars. We played music at ear-splitting levels that, even back then I wondered would cause long-term damage.
The difference is that I got all of that out of my system as a teenager and, (possibly another difference) while an undergrad. It’s filed away in my mind as a fun time, to be occasionally revisited on warm, moonlight nights or when hearing an old song that triggers a fond memory.
But just as I knew the music was too loud and the cigarettes potentially (okay, probably) harmful to my body, I also knew it served many purposes to me.
not a lifestyle
There is a painfully evident cultural gap between people here no matter the reason they are here, and not all of us are residents.
Many, like Sophie and I, live full-time in an RV. Others come and go in the manner that seasonal summer campers and transient laborers/skilled workers who live in campers do as their economic obligations require.
While these people live in their campers full time, the place they truly call home, “where the heart is,” is someplace else.
Their outlook on the place I and the other full-timers here call home naturally differs, and the reason is simple. Sophie and I are as transient to them as, well, they are to us.
And the fact remains that, among “us,” vast disparities exist. However, this doesn’t imply anything negative by any means.
Granted, some of these cultural differences go beyond traditional social or (fairly) superficial differences, such as liking country music more than rock music.
Or perhaps some might have humorous tendencies that lean more toward Larry the Cable Guy than by any of the polished, male-dominated, shirt-and-tie late night network hosts. You get the idea.
For my part, I grew up listening to rock music. However, I can appreciate country music and all music, really, on its merits based on musicians’ technical skill, live performance enjoyment and, yes, themes and lyrical relevance to my life.
I also get Larry the Cable Guy’s humor, and humor from all over the spectrum, really.
But I indulge myself with the above examples in other, probably very different ways than my neighbors.
For example, I prefer listening to jazz music at any time of the day, whether I’m waking up and making coffee or slip-sliding away to La-La Land.
I also prefer watching video documentaries and, well, writing here, on my blog and elsewhere about subjects of relevance to me.
But that doesn’t mean I haven’t had my share of crazy nights at basement parties where beer comes in kegs, and not cans or bottles.
Where “smoke ‘em if you got ‘em” was something we used to say about cigarettes or, on special nights, cigars. We played music at ear-splitting levels that, even back then I wondered would cause long-term damage.
The difference is that I got all of that out of my system as a teenager and, (possibly another difference) while an undergrad. It’s filed away in my mind as a fun time, to be occasionally revisited on warm, moonlight nights or when hearing an old song that triggers a fond memory.
But just as I knew the music was too loud and the cigarettes potentially (okay, probably) harmful to my body, I also knew it served many purposes to me.
not a lifestyle
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