Water Flowing Underground

How did I get here, Part 1

Howdy from the Burbs! Today’s post contains a special bonus: an audio version! Perhaps I shouldn’t bill it as a “bonus” until I get some feedback on this feature, maybe it’s a drawback? If you feel like giving it a listen, let me know what you think. It’s not very professional, just like me! I just wanted to see if I could do it, so I did it. LET’S GO

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Listen to this post:

Most days, I try to take a walk. Even though I work from home, a planned walk is, sadly, sometimes the only time I spend outside. In my defense, many summer days are too hot to be outside, winter days are too cold. But I try.

I could drive over to the park that’s about a half mile away—you can’t walk there because we have no sidewalks in this town, and to cross a narrow, 2-lane bridge as a pedestrian would just be nuts. So I could drive to Haikey Creek Park, and walk the loop a few times. It’s nice because there are trees, and crunchy gravel, squirrels, acorns, birds. Also there is a “lift station”—a building that pumps all the sewage farther down the line to its final destination. (I don’t know where that final destination is, because who wants to think about that?) The lift station at the park can create an interesting aroma, if the wind is just right…

Most of the time I walk through my neighborhood, which is connected to several other neighborhoods. One is older than mine, two are newer, and they are all Suburbia. As much as Bixby Suburbia can exist (on the other side of the main road to get to our neighborhood, people still own horses and in one direction there’s a stop sign instead of a traffic light, so maybe this is Suburbia Light.

I like to see how nature expresses itself in the Burbs. Like I am from somewhere else (another planet?) and everything is artifacts of an alien culture. I like to look at the different houses and cars (although there are repeats of everything). I like to see what some people consider good landscaping—sprinklers, plastic plants, scarecrows and silk flags, all made in China. Sometimes the artificial scent of dryer sheets is overwhelming, but I just consider it part of the nature.

Speaking of nature, I like to watch men’s war against it. The guys coming by with their trucks, stomping around yards wearing galoshes and spraying chemicals on the lawns. The leaf blowers and the endless battle against trees embracing fall. Work trucks in driveways, here to get rid of the moles and gophers.

And the trash. Always so much trash. On my fact-finding missions, I see a lot of it. Plastic, forks, plastic bags, plastic cups. Children’s toys that have been run over. Nail polish bottles. Beer cans, mail, Pokemon cards, money. Things left behind—hopefully—by desperate teenagers doing things in the backs of cars. Nuts, bolts, washers.

stuck in the burbs, photo by andrea c. neil

Some people say they would miss the change of seasons. Not me. I’m from California and I’m used to one season—also known as T-shirt weather. But here I am, watching and listening to the leaves fall as I walk through the suburbs. And even though I’m very far away from the beach, today I discovered that if I try really hard, the breeze blowing through the trees, whose leaves by now are dry and in the process of letting go, can almost sound like waves. Waves that roll up from the ocean. Foamy, chilly waves.

Sometimes I’ll stop by the lending library at the little park a few neighborhoods over. It was built for the residents who live around the park and I guess technically I’m not allowed there, but I’m pretty good at blending in. Sometimes I feel sad about blending in here, and songs like the Talking Heads’ “Once in a Lifetime” ring frighteningly true in my ears. Other times I know I’ll never fit in here. It’s like I’m undercover trying to expose this place. What are the Burbs? I’m not exactly sure. Maybe that’s why I’m still here, because I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ll keep you posted.

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