Last Thursday I went out to gathersome firewood such was the state of our dwindling stocks and the ferocity of the chilly winter temperatures. This was the third time lately I had done this. There I was happily sawing up a few small dead trees I'd spotted on the roadside not three minutes drive from our house when a woman pulled up in her car and walked back to where I was working. I stopped the saw and gave her my attention.
"Do you have a permit to be be doing this?" she asked.
"No, I don't," I replied. "Should I have one?"
"Yes," she said. "That is private property on the other side of that fence and this is council land along this road."
My immediate reaction was to tell her to go home and wash her husband's shirts or do something anything useful but I bit my tongue.
"I won't be long, I'll just fill the trailer with what I've cut and I'll be off in a short time. I'm sorry to intrude on you."
With my concilliatory manner, her disposition changed and she explained she didn't know who I was or where I was from, and that she owned the land on the other side of the fence and didn't want people coming down her road cutting firewood. I answered that I lived in Agnes street as I pointed to the ridge and said I'd been gathering wood along here and thereabouts a couple of times a year when my stocks ran low for thirty years. No one had ever suggested I should have a permit before and frankly it had never entered my head. In my view I was doing everyone a favour. I continued, saying I was pleased to meet her, I had wondered who had bought that block, and that I wouldn't cut wood there again if she objected. She said it was OK by her, now that she knew I was local.
But my mood had darkened. I felt like a stranger in my own town. My days here are numbered. I relate this story because slowly but surely Gembrook has changed, just like Emerald has changed and both towns and indeed the district are not the same as they were. Frankly Emerald is buggered and Gembrook is almost. A trip to Pakenham is stuff of nightmares. I look forward to leaving the district. It's a difficult thing to put into words.
This morning on the ABC I heard a bloke who'd written a book about the Hunter Valley mention a new word he'd come across, "Solastalgia". It's the phsychological effect of the changed environment when people suffer a sort of homesickness while they are still in a place. The changed environment means they miss the place, even though they are still there. It was a term invented by an environmentalist referring to the Hunter Valley and the massive changes that have occurred, particularly with the mining of cold seam gas. It's a mishmash of the words nostalgia, desolation, solace. It is me.
I'm suffering Solastalgia. I'm no longer comfortable here. I'm in a constant state of homesickness. I've felt it in Emerald for years, and now it has seeped into Gembrook. I'll be happy to move on and leave the district to the developers and new residents, sooner rather than later, when circumstances can be arranged for it to be.
4 comments:
When you live in the suburbs, this kind of suspicion is normal and necessary. Newbies need some time to unravel themselves. Let them become more like us, not vice versa.
Fair point. I do try to be understanding and tolerant, for the sake of my sanity. I'm sure it's a challenge for every generation. The world is not going to stay still for me. I'm getting old. I do want to do it graciously.
I occasionally run into similar circumstances. Yard sales are something of an American tradition. From early spring to late fall one can find people selling a variety of unwanted stuff from their front yards. A few weeks ago I stooped at a neighbor's yard sale and mentioned that we had one when we moved in several years prior and were considering cleaning out the attic and garage again soon. She immediately asked if I'd gotten a permit. I laughed. Her expression remained serious. She went on to explain that the town could fine me if I didn't have a yard sale permit and I better get one if I were planning to have a yard sale.
It's worth mentioning at this point that this woman is the neighborhood busy body. She tried to collect signatures at one point to stop someone from building a house in the empty lot next to hers and tried to convince me that it would ruin the neighborhood.
I have no plans to get a permit.
Thank you Fowl Ideas. Your story is comforting. I too have no intention of getting a permit. The less I have to with bureaucracy the better. The council is consumed by corporate interests and fear of legal ramifications by professional carnivores. Sadly if you want a drink of water with your lunch if away from home you need to buy a plastic bottle of Mt.Franklin if you haven't brought water with you. There are no drinkong water taps around like in my childhood when they were evrywhere. We need a permit here too for "garage sales" but most people wouldn't bother with it.
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