The other day I dined midday with
a kindred spirit. Both transplants
from far away places, at times we
need some reassurance that we're
not alone. Theres no doubt that we
may be a bit out of touch with our
compatriot's reality. Our pasts set
us apart from our compatriots. And
yet surprisingly, we both adore this
place. Neither can clearly rationalize
said affection except that Montana
is unlike anywhere we've been before.
And hence for us holds much allure.
I've no regrets about exiting the endless
competition of a Knickerbockian milieu.
Simply conversing with Manhattanites
ends in some sort of competition. The
only thing that differs is one's criteria
for success depending on what social
strata they hail from. Up on the Upper
Eastside it's all about location, location,
location. And of course what club one
frequents when not at home. Plus what
school your child attends. Whereas far
downtown, competition is even fiercer.
Seems we all want what we can't have.
Whether one hails from Soho, Tribeca,
or either Village being a total hipster is
beyond exhausting. Simply keeping up
with the latest trend can push one over
the edge. While how one jumps hurdles
to ascendance differs downtown, winning
the race still separates the wheat from the
chaff. And so, whether one can secure a
table at the coolest eatery, or expound on
some obscure gallery show becomes the
preemptive criteria of cultural superiority.
No wonder I escaped to Siberia. I seem
to have lost whatever fight was in me.
Back to my tete e tete in Lewistown. We
both agreed that we really didn't miss our
former worlds. Rather we were more than
happy to be relocated within this inland
sea of manure. You see, whether locals
admit it or not no matter where one lives
somebody is trying to climb up the ladder.
Even if it's to reach the hayloft. Human
nature dictates that some must strive to
better themselves. Often to the detriment
of others. And along the way to whatever
they think is success, whatever happens...
happens. After all, it's all about them.
We also concur that neither of us were
prepared for the viciousness of a small
town. Whether driven by boredom or
a more than limited perspective, locals
can be cruel and reckless. For those who
haven't any other option, escaping said
tyranny is impossible. That's where we
transplants differ from the native born.
Having been there - elsewhere - we long
ago breached the walls of convention.
Thus frankly my dears, we don't give a
damn. We're over trying to please the rest
of you. Self satisfaction is a full time job.
As we continued to chat, the two of us
considered our beyond conservative
surroundings. My luncheon date was
recently chided about her inability to
properly manage money. Her response?
A wise smile and a wave of her hand.
You see, just because we appreciate
nice things doesn't make us wanton
fools. Rather, our personal standards
are different given our experience to
date has been quite different than most.
And given life is short, why live a life
of deprivation simply to please others?
Ultimately my kindred spirit and I
reached this conclusion. What you
think really shouldn't matter. That
doesn't mean that we're not kind
nor caring people. The fact is we've
no desire to impress, belittle, or hurt
you. We're simply being ourselves.
Living in the manner to which we're
accustomed. And given we long ago
escaped the asylum, we've no desire
to be shackled by other's expectations.
All that we ask is that you judge not
lest ye be judged. Check please!