Montana – Page 2 – A Bevy of Books

Where Did All That Time Go? On Being Busy But Not Accomplishing Much

Columbia Falls, Montana, Rocky Mountains — The view as I run errands and do not get my shit done

Keeping your own agenda while not keeping your own space is not an easy thing to do.

This month in Montana – while wonderful, and notable for the lack of morning alarms being set – is more a transition than the beginning of this thing I’m doing, whatever that is.

I had promised to do whatever I could to help take care of things for my mom (who moved to a new place the day I arrived) that would normally have fallen on Susan’s already quite full shoulders. So my days were filled with errands and cleaning and packing and organizing and stuff – but not my stuff, someone else’s stuff.

And staying in a household full of other people, and therefore other people’s agendas, exerts an influence, even when not intentionally exerted. Dishes are dirty, dinners need to be prepared, various chores completed and errands run. AS I’M TYPING THIS – I received a phone call to add one more (important, necessary) thing to my list of chores today. THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT.

I’ve been the only adult in my household for most of the last 16 years. All chores were my chores (or those having to do with the minor child in the house – so, mine), all my agenda, all my shit and no one else’s.

The only other agendas that got in the door were those I made a point of inviting. This is not always ideal, frankly, because I tend to isolate myself. But as far as ‘who’s shit am I working on today?,’ the answer was almost exclusively ‘MINE.’

I remember – long ago and far away – living in a house with five adults and one child (mine). Most of the other adults were either working or in school. As the only adult with free time during the day and a vehicle, it fell to me to do the chores and errands for ALL the adults in the house. It was easy to have an entire week go by where nothing of my own got accomplished other than my share of the household chores.

This is not by way of complaining that I was forced/expected to do these things – no, no, no. This is me realizing that I will have to be more disciplined about creating my own agenda and making sure it gets on the list of things that need doing while staying with other people.

It’s really easy for me to go along with those around me who have a plan, especially a plan for the upkeep and maintenance of me and those around me. Of course I have to contribute to those things. And I volunteered to do all the things regarding Mom’s apartment. But if I don’t put my own stuff (organize things for road trip, confirm crash pads for road trip, write for blog, investigate writing for cash, etc.) on the list, then three weeks can go by while NONE of those things get accomplished.

Which is basically what just happened.

I will need to get better at this if I’m going to extend this current lifestyle beyond the money in my savings account.

The (Temporary) Rural Life

While I’m staying at my sister’s house for almost a month, it’s my job to empty and clean out my mom’s old apartment, since she’s recently moved to a wonderful assisted living home. Driving the eight miles to the apartment in approximately ten minutes seems like both a great distance and a very fast trip – because there’s only one stop light in the first seven of those miles (and it favors my direction) and the speed limit is 55mph. It was only a slightly shorter drive from my Portland apartment to my part-time job in Sellwood, and it involved no less than a dozen stop lights, at least half of which I was guaranteed to be stopping for and never got over 45mph (and if I drove to the downtown job? Two miles, one draw bridge and even more stop lights).

In addition, the time of day has very little effect on how long it takes to get anywhere. There are significantly more cars – well, mostly trucks – around five-six pm, to be sure. But that just means you might have to go slower than 55mph, and you might not be the first one at any stop light you might get caught at. It does NOT mean that you’ll ever have to wait through more than one cycle of that light, or that your destination will be crowded when you get there.

This is wide open spaces. This is what rural looks like. I’ve only been visiting in the last 28 years or so, never trying to get things done like a resident. It’s got a lot to recommend it, but I’m not sure I would go back to it on a full-time basis.

I have started paying attention to my gas gauge again. My car has mud on it. And I have remembered what a washboard is.

An approximate percentage of cars to trucks on the road in this area.

The POS status of my car is MUCH less noteworthy here than in Portland. I hardly lived in the ritzy area of town, but as close to downtown as I was, neighbors who were short funds often skipped owning a car altogether – fewer places to park them and fantastic biking and public transit options. I’ve seen half-dozen Escorts of a similar 20-year old style as mine in just the one week I’ve been here, and vehicles of all shapes and sizes older and less-well-preserved than mine make up a significant percentage of those on the road.

Of course, average household income is much lower here, and available land to park that marginally useful vehicle is cheap and abundant. But every tenth yard seems to have some kind of earth-moving equipment, whether it be for farming or construction or things I can’t even identify. Lots of snow machines and ATV, and every driveway with at least one pickup.

The air regularly smells of wood smoke. True darkness is easy to find. And those mountains everywhere I look feel like home.

A Walk to the River

Planted and still for the first time in what seems like a very long time. Because it has been, I suppose. Two months and 19 days since I left my apartment. I stayed in six different places in the Portland area in that time (several for only a few days, one place twice). I wouldn’t say I moved eight times, because to ‘move’ is to have first ‘stopped moving,’ and I don’t much feel like I stopped moving during that time. I’ve only been here for a week, but I’ve allowed myself to settle in. Take the clothes out of the suitcase and leave my things all over the bathroom.

The place where the south fork of the Flathead River flows under Highway 2 is about ten blocks from where I’m temporary planted here in NW Montana. Though blocks is probably not how anyone around here thinks of it. It’s about half a mile, or just a ways down the road. A mix of gravel and asphalt, and a bit of trail through the woods on the way back.

Not the same kind of walk I’ve been taking lately. Different river, different bridge. Different sounds and smells. I passed people in their yards, but hardly anyone walking in that mile – one group of girls walking a few blocks away, and a woman looking for her dog. Smells of wood smoke and dust kicked up by the vehicles passing me. More bicycles and fewer skateboards than I’m used to. The only sidewalk is right along the highway – where I avoid walking, since it’s noisier and less likely to give me interesting things to photograph.

Having been living in downtown Portland for three years, the spaces between things seem strange and new. Three of the places I’ve stayed recently were within six blocks of a grocery store – good ones, that either focused on organic food or had huge sections for it. From my apartment, I could walk out my front door and acquire a dozen different types of dinner within six blocks – plus coffee, donuts, macaroons, used cds and dvds, dry cleaning, specialty pet food, exercise equipment, skateboard gear, comic books, vinyl records, bicycles, go to yoga class or work out with free weights, or drink at a dozen different establishments. Density, that’s what I had.

Here, the theme is wide open spaces. I can walk to a small grocery, to be sure, as well as several drinking establishments and tourist shops (most not open for the season yet) – but for options, I’ll be driving. Cluster of buildings, then a river, a canyon, then another small cluster of buildings. Rinse, repeat.

This is not a discussion of good vs. bad, merely a study in contrast. I grew up with the wide open spaces, but chose ever more urban environments as an adult. I’m feeling that difference more than I expected.