April 29, 2009

• Interrogative Graffiti and Community Involvement

  On the outflow pipe at the community spring, someone had neatly printed in black marker, “Where is Dale Bilger “Pokino” call 982-1081 $100 reward.”  It is the first graffiti I’ve ever seen on any permanent part of the spring.  People often tack up notes and notices, but most don’t write on the fixtures.

  Doug wondered aloud what “Dale” had done, and I supposed in response that he might have simply disappeared.  With Sheep Creek Lodge closed now, Montana Creek Lodge washed away in a years-ago flood, and what used to be a neighborly general store with chairs gathered around a wood stove, now replaced by a more modernly businesslike grocery, video rental and laundromat, there are no local gathering places any more, and it’s easy to lose track of people.

  We were stopping for water on our way home from the Willow Public Library.  A few weeks ago, Nicole, the librarian, had handed me a sheaf of little forms when I stopped in there to pick up an Inter-Library Loan book she’d ordered for me, and asked me to get the family to fill them out for her.  Each had blanks for name and phone number, for a book title, and check boxes marked, “awful,” “so-so,” “pretty good,” and “excellent.” 

  We were to review books we read and return the slips of paper to her by the end of this month for a drawing with some attractive prizes, including a GPS system and iPod.  She said they were important to her, because the “numbers,” the response to the “Willow Reads,” promotion, would help determine her library’s funding for the coming year.

  I committed myself and Doug to reading five books each and reviewing them, and would have gone to a great deal of trouble to get the slips back to her by the end of the month, because that library is very important to me.  When my computer was down for eleven weeks a few years ago, that was where I did my blogging. 

  Several times a year, Nicole tracks down and borrows books for me from distant libraries that are not in the local system.  Each time I go in there, I pick up one or more recent releases that I would otherwise have to wait years, until they’re out in paperback and showing up in thrift shops or used book stores, before I’d get a chance to read them.  Today, as usual, I browsed the discard racks by the door and donated a few bucks for a few old books, too.

  This water run had a few seasonal “firsts.”  It was the first time this year that we’ve gone for water in temperatures above freezing;  first time we could actually see the ground and walk on it, not slip and slide down the hill on ice and packed snow;  first time since last September that we’ve seen mosquitoes.  As we were loading up, Doug mused, “Interrogative Graffiti would be a good name for a rock band, but then you wouldn’t be able to tell whether a spray-painted question mark was actual graffiti, or viral marketing.”

  Our timing couldn’t have been better.  We had all the jugs filled and loaded in the car and were preparing to get on the road when the next person showed up to use the spring.  It was someone I recognized as a local, but don’t really know.  His face and his vehicle were familiar, but I don’t know his name.  I might have done a reading for him at a Talkeetna Bluegrass or Moose Dropping Festival, or we might have attended the same high school play or grade school carnival.  It’s like that with most of my neighbors.  We all know each other, without knowing each other’s names.

  I love this neighborhood, the whole Susitna Valley, the state of Alaska, our nation (no matter how troubled and imperiled), this challenged planet, and my life.  I think I’ll go consult the ephemeris to see if it gives me any clues to explaining this unaccustomed euphoria.  Some of it could be Barack Obama’s voice in the background as I’ve been writing.  Cool and mellow, and so rational, he is.  I’ve heard recordings of some of FDR’s fireside chats.  Obama’s style is reminiscent of them.
  

  • 8:52 pm
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