This was my first trip back to The Ranch following the burial of my mother, and in a real sense the last time I had been back alone since March of this year. In a real sense, it represents the denouement of this phase of my involvement with The Ranch as we move into new territory.
The place itself has changed little enough: it is the hot and dry season of Summer and so everything is either the golden brown of husks or the green and brown of the survivors. This weekend was a relief from the heat of the weeks before, in some ways actually cooler than at New Home 2.0.
In the sitting down and writing of out of a list of tasks and reviewing them, I realized that I am much closer to the completion of the sorting of the house than I had thought. As of my departure yesterday, the interior is 99% sorted, outstanding a few things I want to revisit next month - along with the garage, which is the next item on the list to be completed (and should go much faster, as they are simply bigger chunks to sort). Perchance by September, we will be in a position of having someone come through and hopefully buy out what is to be gone, leaving the retained items - mostly furniture for living when someone visits, along with the various and sundries that the family has identified as needing to be kept.
The biggest difference, though, was that nature of the Ranch this weekend. For the first time in the over 20 years since my parents moved there, there was no connection to the outside world.
There was no satellite or or InterWeb, no cell phone coverage, no land line. No updates from the Outer World were possible (except, oddly enough, my text messages, which for the first time seemed to work). None of this is a surprise of course: the landline and Dish were stopped years ago and the InterWeb more recently, when I no longer was working from the house (our cell phone coverage, while continuing to slowly come up the hill from my hometown, is still not here). As a result of this it is just like it used to be when I came up here before all of that: a trued island of isolation in a world of noise, information overload, and bustle.
The though does not confront you until you go to check the computer or the phone and realized that it is simply impossible to contact anyone or know anything because there is no way to do so - yes, I suppose, one could fire up radio and listen or even go down to Uisdean Ruadh's and use his network, that was simply more effort than I cared to make.
How oddly relieving it was to realize that one cannot know about the world because one cannot contact the world nor can the world contact one. One is left with the practices of old times: reading, writing, listening, thinking, conversing with others.
As I sat with my cup of coffee in my hand in the cool breeze of the morning that belied the heat of later in the day, the world of 30 years ago hit me full force, where connectivity was expensive and we paid by the minute. Were we less in touch, or did we spend more time in other things because the cost of "being connected" outweighed its perceived benefits.
It is a bit of a wistful thought of course; if and when I start coming here even for remote work (which I hopeful to start asking for next year), I will need to get InterWeb and so the connection will be there. But being conscious of it means that I should manage it better and more: like many things, just because I can do something does not mean I should do something.
And so I find myself poised in a transitional space, clearing out the old so I can move on - but conscious that moving on in some ways may mean looking backwards rather than forwards.
Much of our property is in same situatiion. Only a few spots will offer phone service to connect. Otherwise - nothing. It is both frightening and freeing, the realization that if an emergency occurs, you are completely on your own to handle it. On the other hand, having the Outside World invading your Outside Time Out can be annoying too.
ReplyDeleteLong ago when my brother and I could spend a week there on school vacations, the layers of civilization strip away every day. Time isn't a number - its where the position of the sun and and moon are at the time. The smell of the corral and sound of the wind through the trees and operating the windmill at camp - it resonates. Peaceful - I haven't felt that in such a long time.
Anon - The phone coverage comes in the oddest places: halfway up the hill to my Aunt and Uncle's house, two thirds of the way down the long road towards the mailboxes.
DeleteUisdean Ruadh, my long-time best friend and tenant, has a land line at The Cabin for work and emergencies. When I return there, it might be a consideration to handle the potential emergency situation. InterWeb still remains rather pricey there.
I remember the times of which you speak, when we turned out at the beginning of the day and darkness (or dinnertime) signaled the end. Odd how I have lurched from that to trying to make every minute count for something useful.
One of my Uncles was a major sports fan. Did not want to miss 'The Big Game' (usually football). Sometimes, their departure from the ranch house was predicated on watching that game. I always shook my head when they left - The Big Game is right here and you are standing in the field missing it all.
DeleteThis was always the argument of the late Gene Logdson as well, who always felt that there was little need to travel away from his farm as there was so much going on there. The world is always in microcosm wherever we are; we just have to choose to look for it.
DeleteSounds like The Ranch is re-entering the late 19th century for a time, no connectivity so it's a good thing you're not an influencer........ :)
ReplyDeleteOh, your comment made me laugh, Nylon12. "An Influencer"...perhaps once upon a time that was a dream. Now, I can think of almost nothing more horrible. This sort of benign anonymity is by far the best outcome.
DeleteCheckout Starlink. We have it here in ETN. Previously we tried cell-based internet w/ a booster, b/c high speed cable's don't go down country roads. Big difference. Still not perfect, but acceptable.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the recommendation. This is something that I have discussed with Uisdean Ruadh as he lives down in The Cabin and works remotely. The price point may make it worthwhile as we are paying early-stage InterWeb prices for ours.
DeleteCuriously just yesterday my beloved and I were trying to remove the land line from our cable package. Seems more expensive than keeping it.
ReplyDeleteAs her parents have passed on the reason for it was done.
So, we unplugged it. Felt oddly final.
Parents are gone as is more than half our SPAM calls to defraud long dead folks.
Connectivity is often best like vanilla extract a little at a time.
Michael, when we canceled the land line at my parents it was surprisingly emotional to me. It was a number that I had been calling regularly for 20 years - yes, in the latter days most of their incoming calls were probably 8 different people (two of them being myself and my sister, of course) and the rest of it was spam (which honestly gives me pause in thinking about a land line there in the future). There was a very real sense of the past being wiped away, something that I had not anticipated.
DeleteIt is making me question my whole thoughts on connectivity - to your point, a little goes a long way.
I always feel that way when our power goes out. We have enough solar for the essentials, but there is no way to access input from the rest of the world. I find I get more checked off my to-do list at those times, than I do otherwise.
ReplyDeleteLeigh, I directly tie my efficiency this weekend to my lack of connectivity.
DeleteThe funny thing? I still had all the time I needed to have have meals with Uisdean Ruadh and The Director and meet with The Cowboy and The Young Cowboy. A seeming dearth of time did not impact my brief time there; it was how I used it.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, upon my return to the Outer World, I found nothing meaningful had changed.
Your post and some comments here make me think of how when our internet goes out, I am torn between irritation and relief. And there are days when I lay my cell phone down and don't think to pick it up until evening. I suddenly become aware of level of peace of mind I rarely experience anymore. I tell myself "do this intentionally and experience it regularly." But I don't. Good food for thought, TB.
ReplyDeleteIt is a balance, Becki, and I struggle with it awfully. Right now I am trying to set myself a limit - morning and evening - of how much time I can spend on the computer.
DeleteIt is foolish, if I think about it: I spend almost all day on the computer at work and then rush home to spend time on it at home. Surely there is a better way.
Thank you for this post. I needed to read it.
ReplyDeletewww.rsrue.blogspot.com
Very much my pleasure. Thank you so much for taking the time to comment.
DeleteMy parents have owns a cabin in the Ozark Mountains for nearly 40 years and one of the things I most cherished about it was that there were no phone signals or internet connections there. It was a place where my phone was as useful as a brick for the duration of my stay. But after mom died and my dad more or less moved into it full time, he finally hooked up the internet so he could have a connection to the outside world. It has never been the same since.
ReplyDeleteEd, it definitely feels similar but not the same. I can remember back when we would visit my Great Aunt and Uncle - even television was spotty there back in the day. Back in the day I did not know better; now, I cherish that kind of freedom.
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