I’m sorry I haven’t written sooner. So much has happened I’ve hardly had time to take a breath. I expect you’ll have a difficult time believing what I’m going to tell you. I did. We all did. But once we were convinced, fear of the unimaginable became hugely motivational and has spurred our creativity and thrust us into all-out action.
I feel compelled to write you, though. It’s very early here, not yet dawn, but if there’s truth to what we’ve learned about what’s going on up on Altos, it will affect you too.
The secret behind what’s happening up there finally came out the night of the potluck. I was able to gather our friends together in hopes of gaining their support for the efforts of the families there and their determination to create a eco-village the rest of us can use as a model for living sustainably here. If you recall, they especially need our help because they’re flagrantly violating so many local ordinances, rules and regulations, but yet very much want to get the whole community involved.
By emphasizing that I needed help with an undisclosed but dire situation I was able to get a great turn out for the potluck. Our entire old group came, all of us who worked together to save Katani Falls from becoming a sprawling Aspen west. Ned and Gloria, our best friends and neighbors, came, of course. Megan and Ryan, too. It turns out they weren’t moving to Cielo Nuevo after all. I’ll tell you all about that in a few minutes because it’s related to the why the folks on Altos suddenly near frantic to get the community on board so Katani Falls can be food and energy self-sufficient asap. It’s also why Ned turned up at our house late one night not long ago for a secret consult with my husband Mark, our local general practitioner and psychiatrist.
Suzanne came too. She’s the retired minister and healer who has been traveling to and from other locales helping them build cohesive communities. She came back just for the gathering and after the events of that night she won’t be leaving again. Of course, Erik and Lori were there, because not only were they part of our old group, but they’re living of Altos with Julie and her children and Erik is the one who urged me to help them with their situation in the first place.
Initially the gathering felt like a grand reunion. Everyone was glad to see and catch up with each other. Our feelings of camaraderie rekindled immediately just like old times. We ate on the deck. The weather was lovely. Everyone contributed something delicious to the meal. Ned brought out his guitar and his tunes set a festive mood. Then as dusk came and the temperature began to cool we settled in around the fire pit on out deck and Erik and I began to explain why Katani Falls had to become more locally sustainable and how a group of folks was already taking the lead to do that but needed our support in a bad way.
At first Erik and I were being so cautious not to reveal who the people are, just what they are doing, or where they’re located that we weren’t getting across why our help is so pressing. Aside from Ned, Mark, Megan who weren’t saying a word, the group was put off by our secrecy. Finally sensing that there was sympathy for well-intentioned fellow neighbors and friends of Erik and Lori’s, Erik took a deep breath and plunged in to the specifics of what they’re doing on Altos and why they’re in jeopardy.
He was nervous, uncharacteristically stumbling over his words, as he laid out the story. I know he was afraid of how Ian, the computer-wizard and big Altos-honcho, would respond. Revealing their location and thus their identities had not been part of the deal at this point. As you know, Ian has been highly secretive, nearly paranoid, about everything they’re doing. But once the group learned an eco-village was already up and operating in Katani Falls, despite prohibitive regulation, etc, their curiosity was peaked, Everyone seemed to agree it was a good idea to get the whole community involved in creating a low-energy sustainable place to live and wanted to help get these folks off the hook for showing us the way. But Susanne, always the careful and thoughtful one, had to know why all the urgency? When it became clear she wouldn’t drop the issue, Megan and Ned broke their silence and chimed in adamantly that the situation was indeed very urgent.
Instantly Erik froze. Julie turned pale. Ned looked at Mark. Mark looked at Ned. Gloria and I looked at Megan. She looked at Ryan, who was looking as confused as Suzanne, Gloria and I felt. The four of us wanted to know just what the heck was up? Obviously all these folks knew something we didn’t know and they didn’t seem to know that each other knew. Suddenly the atmosphere around us grew tense. My stomach knotted up like I was at bat in the 9th inning of the World Series with three men on base, two outs, a three to two count, and the winning run dancing about on third base.
Right the three girls– Chelsea, Carly and Wren – who had been upstairs doing the slumber-party thin came out on the deck to get some air. They were laughing and giggling as only tween girls can do and our group went stone silent. The girls picked up on the tension immediately, weren’t sure what they’d stepped into but quickly knew they better beat it. So they ambled back into the house, rolling their eyes with that good-grief-grown-ups look on their faces. Everyone took a breath and looked furtively around the circle.
Whatever was going on I knew Mark couldn’t say anything about it. Obviously Ned had come up from the city to see him that night in professional confidence. But for a long beat no one else spoke either. Finally Ned said “Yes, there is a real concern and it appears to be urgent. But as an attorney I am not at liberty to talk about any of the details I’m aware of.” I caught Gloria glaring at him. I couldn’t tell if she was mad at him or scared about what he couldn’t tell us.
“Well,” Megan finally said in a quiet voice filled with dismay, “I don’t really know enough to say for sure, but the folks are Cielo Nuevo are hunkering down for something big.” She paused looking embarrassed. She glanced at her husband Ryan whose brow furrowed with concern.
She looked away, took a breath. All eyes were locked on her. “You all know how much I’ve been wanting to move to Cielo Neuvo so I could reopen my art gallery in community where there is still income to buy fine art. Well, since we can’t seem to sell the house and move there, last week I started pestering my liaison over there about the possibility of opening a gallery even though we can’t move for awhile.”
She explained that her liaison had been working as a buyer for the many art galleries there. “I thought she might have some tips or contacts for me. But yesterday ...” Megan paused for what seemed like a long time, looking down at her hands folded in her lap, gathering strength to say what was to come next. We all waited.
Finally she continued. “It seems I misunderstood her interest in my art. When I called she confessed that they’re not seeking any new residents or galleries over there now. She told me community is full but until recently they were busy acquiring art from artists in other locations who are liquidating their collections in bankruptcy. She thought that like so many artist these days, I would be in that situation soon, but now their time for acquisitions has passed and they’re no longer interested.”
Megan looked humiliated. Her blue eyes glistened in the firelight. I wanted to go over hug her or something, but she had more to say and it began tumbling out. The “buyer” had gone on to point out that Cielo Nuevo would be sealing off the community soon. “Sealing off?” Megan had asked.” “Oh, you don’t know?” the stunned woman said, realizing she’d made a serious misstep.”I thought you were ….”
“You thought I was what?”Megan had asked. “That I knew what?”
“I’m sorry,” the woman replied, “I can’t say anything more. I shouldn’t have commented at all. But I like you, Megan, and I ... I ... well, just do what you can to take care of yourself when … whatever. Just do it right way though. ” Then she hung up.
Megan looked at her husband across the fire pit. “I know I should have told you, Ryan, but I was too embarrassed.”
Ignoring her, apology, Ryan, Gloria, and Susanne blurted out almost in unison, “What on earth do you think she meant?” Mega shrugged, tears now pooling in the rims of her eyes. The four of us quickly noticed everyone else was looking away, up down, around, where ever no one else was sitting.
Then Erik stood up and said he needed to call Ian. He left the room while we sat there feeling confused and concerned. We heard Erik talking rapidly on a scratchy walkie-talkie, his voice too low to understand the words. As we waited Gloria got up to pass around a platter of homemade butterscotch cookies she had brought. They were sitting on a white paper doily on a blue ceramic plate. But no one too one.
“He’s coming over,” Erik announced when he returned to the room. “He’ll need to know nothing, I mean nothing, he says can go beyond this room. He’ll want you to guarantee secrecy on all you hold sacred.”
We glanced around the circle at each other and nodded in agreement. We had to know what this was all about.
“He’ll need a verbal commitment from each of you. Julie and I already know what he’s going to say.”
We nodded in agreement again. I told him I was confident he could count on our word. We’d been through a difficult challenge together before and had learned we could trust each other. There were more nods. But the air was dark and the mood somber.
As we continued to wait Erik explained that once we heard what Ian was going to tell us we would understand why they’d been feverishly creating a model for making Katani Falls as self-sufficient and sustainable as possible and why it was so urgent that the whole community join in doing so asap. He was right about that.
You’d think the effects of resource depletion and climate change we’re already facing and the economic fall out we were already coping with day-to-day would be enough motivation for anyone to understand that we need to get on with some drastic changes in way we live. But clearly it hasn’t been. Not even this circle of “enlightened,” well-educated friends were interested in our doing anything together until I hinted at some mysterious dire circumstance. I hope those of you reading this won’t take so long.
As we waited for Ian, we rounded up sweaters, shawls, and blankets, snuggled back into our seats and sat staring at the fire in silence. When he finally appeared at the door to the deck in his worn blue jeans sweatshirt and dusty work boots, he seemed agitated but resigned. Suddenly the air seemed still cooler, nippy really, so I asked if we should retire to living room. Clearly no one liked the idea of being within earshot of the girls so we huddled closer together and I scooted closer to Mark to make room for Ian to join us by the fire. But he preferred to remain standing. After getting verbal assurance from each of us that we would not repeat what we was going to tell us, he began to pace and we had to rearrange ourselves with our backs to the fire pit so we could face him.
He began explaining that shortly after he and his family moved here for Adriana’s health, his company had been hired to develop a sophisticated, solar-powered, high-speed online network for a chain of exclusive, private community developments. Initially he’d been excited and invigorated by the cutting-edge nature of the project, but two years ago he began to suspect there was some sinister intent behind these projects.
Not long after that key people in his firm, which included him of course, were told by their client that these communities are being developed as a defensive measure against a coming economic collapse. They’re financed by some of the wealthiest families in the US banking, corporate, financial industries. To waylay the fears of the top executive, the Trust, as the financiers referred to themselves, extended an invitation in lieu of payment for work done to buy into Cielo Nuevo, the most nearby of the developments. This, they were assured, would enable them and their families to be among the few who would not only survive the coming collapse, but also to do so in the ultimate of comfort, style, elegance, and security.
But there was one kicker. Before completing the transaction on their property all involved would need to submit to an extensive physical exam, because only those who are 100% healthy are allowed to move into any of their self-contained community developments, all of which are located on a US coast. After telling us this, Ian stopped pacing, momentarily. He dipped his head and cleared his throat, overcome with emotion he was determined not to express.
At that point I notice that both Mark and Gloria were glaring at Ned and suddenly everything fell in place. I knew what had been going on.
Adriana, Ian’s wife, and his daughter Becca both have severe chronic illnesses. They wouldn’t be eligible to live in Cielo Nuevo. Adriana undoubtedly knows this, but I wondered about Becca. Does she know or not? Either way, this situation must be related to her recent ambivalent feelings and erratic behavior. And what about Julie’s daughter Wren? How much does she know? Is this why she’s been pulling away from Chelsea and Carley? Is she up in Chelsea’s bedroom now, struggling with temptation to tell her friends about an impending global catastrophe she's living in fear of, despite the pact of secrecy she’s sworn to? Or does she think the eco-village is the only secret she’s keeping?
For over the past two years Ian and the other adults on Altos had been frantically creating their own means of survival for their families, recruiting the needed personnel and hoping eventually that the whole community would join them, for certainly they couldn’t survive as one tiny remote enclave in and of themselves. But they’re doing it all without the big bucks available to the super-rich “Trust.”
Though it has yet to be revealed openly, I quickly surmised that as the new general council for Cielo Nuevo, the partners at Ned’s law firm had received this same offer. But, as a cancer survivor, Gloria would be excluded too. Hence Ned’s sudden, late-night trip up from LA to talk with Mark.
I could see Gloria was quickly putting two and two together, too, as she appeared to be on the verge of hyperventilating. Had she been counting on moving there? Was that behind her rekindled fascination with the kind of high-life she and I had both voluntarily left behind years ago when we moved to Katani Falls? But Suzanne interrupted my inner queries, speaking into the group’s collective silence and shaking us from our trance-like state of disbelief.
“Wait a minute, Ian,” she said. “This is a little far-fetched. Just when is this collapse supposed to happen and how can these folks have known about it for so long if it’s only about to happen now?”
“I don’t know exactly when,” he replied, “but it will be soon because the developments are all but complete. They’re successfully 100% off the grid. The surrounding farms are producing. A vast oil supply has been stockpiled in tankers off shore each of these developments. The folks who will be living in them are just about all moved in. The software we’ve developed is complete and fully functional. The communities are able to communicate and trade with one another. Everything is just about all set.”
“And,” Megan interjected, her eyes wide with fright, “there’s the warning I got from the art buyer!”
I thought back to the spa-day at Cielo Nuevo where Gloria took me for a birthday treat. The lush farmland within the outer wall that ringed the town; the small port at the end of the main street; the high outer wall around the enclosed fields, the even higher inner wall around the town, both manned with armed guards; the art galleries bulging with fine art from all over the world; the lavish ambience of the restaurants, the abundance of medical supplies Gloria could buy so effortlessly at the posh health clinic we walked to ...
As I tried to set aside how congruent my own experience there was with this otherwise incomprehensible scenario, Suzanne pressed on. “But, Ian, what collapse, exactly, and why are they so sure it’s coming now?“
“The complete collapse of the economic system,” Ian said softly, still pacing. “They know it’s coming because they’re going to create it.”
Everyone for whom this was news began shaking their heads in adamant denial.
“That can’t be. No one would do that!” Megan asserted.
“That’s preposterous” “Ryan exclaimed.
“No way!” Suzanne agreed in that definitive, authoritative tone she’s so adept at using when wants to define reality for those who are escalating fear over thinking.
But it was the look on the faces of Ned and Mark, Erik and Julie that brought an unwelcomed recognition back to the group. Their silence was confirmation that they believed Ian. This wasn’t some paranoid fantasy. Ned knew. Mark knew. Erik and Julie had known for a long time. Hence their feverished work up on Altos. Hence Mark’s recent obsession to amass a store of medical supplies for the clinic. This was real.
“But why?” Mark asked. “Why would anyone do such a thing? Tell me that.” This was obviously something Ned either didn’t know or hadn’t shared with Mark in their private session that night.
“Oh, that’s obvious,” Ned jumped in,” almost as if he felt compelled to defend Ian. “It’s not divulging any client privilege to point out what anyone who reads the financial news is acutely aware of. The US economy has been hanging on by a thread for several years. We have been at the mercy of China now for some time. They realize they can no longer depend on us to buy their cheap products. Our masses are too cash-strapped to buy a ton of unnecessary things. Nor do they want to share their avenues to world’s oil sources with us. They need whatever is left for themselves. They’re confident the G8 is going to dump the US dollar for the Yen any day now and the Trust Ian is talking about has their wealth in US dollars. They want to keep it. They don’t want to live in to China.”
“But what about China?” Mark asked. “These people are going to bring the US economy down and just let China take over? What about Europe? This “Trust” is going to pull out on everyone else, even those countries that are still standing behind us?”
“You don’t understand.” Ian took back the group’s attention. “It’s not just the US economy that’s going down. It’s the world economy.”
More don’t-be-ridiculous comments and head shaking arose from the unconvinced.
“How is that possible?” Suzanne asked before anyone else got around to it.
“The global economy is a house of cards,” Ian explained with Ned nodding in agreement. “I’m not an economist but I know enough to can see it’s one huge, inter-related, over-leveraged system of debt based on worthless currencies held up only by a willingness to pretend all is fine. And it’s all dependent on a complex web of electronic transactions. That’s the system that’s going down at whatever moment this group decides to take it down. And that moment will be soon because they know it’s only matter of time before China and their growing alliance of nations will pull out on us. Don’t you see?” His voice rose in frustration. “That’s why they’ve been pressing so hard to get these communities set up. Their company, our company, probably other companies I don’t know about, we’ve all had people working around the clock now for two years. They’re petrified they won’t be ready in time to be the ones to make the pre-emptive strike.”
Though I didn't and still don’t fully understand the details of what Ian was referring to, it all made some horrid sort of sense to me. But I couldn’t understand how a small group people, even a very powerful and rich small group of people, could do this, so I asked Suzanne’s question again.
“What kind of 'strike' could do this? Not a military one, right? What, then? How can they …?” my voice trailed off because Ian had the answer already forming on the tip of his tongue.
“Right, no military involved. This is an all out electronic assault on the entire global financial system. There have been lots of examples of attacks like this on a small scale and some pretty large scale ones too. Like back in the summer of 2009 when a barrage of cyber attacks hit South Korean and US government computers and networks, including the White House and the Pentagon. Other targets included the New York stock exchange, the national security agency, homeland security department, state department, and the Washington Post. In 2007 a series of bogus messages from computers worldwide brought down Estonian’s media, banking and government websites. Almost brought the country to a halt.
“But this time that’s what will happen on a global scale. Malicious code will be sent to a server inside the financial system, the energy grids, the communication networks, the transportation systems. Once executed within seconds it will attack the computers in thousands of financial institutions, companies, and government agencies worldwide, erase their data and shut down the servers. The entire financial global system will be eliminated. There will a run on the banks. Power plants will close down. Airlines will be grounded. Satellites downed. Cities will be without electricity and water. Civilization as we know it will come to a standstill. There will be mass panic, chaos. Nothing will work.”
Questions flew at Ian like machine gun fire.
“They have this code.”
“They do.”
“Did you ….?
”
“No, not me. That was all done in the utmost of secrecy inside the development company. I’m not sure even anyone at the top of the company knows the whole chain of code that’ll be activated.”
“Who would think up such a plan?”
“Who would participate in creating it?”
“It’s not some hackers. It’s powerful people with a lot of money who know just how precarious our system is, who don’t want it to come down on them, and who can promise the same means of escape they're creating for themselves for key experts to help them. I’m talking about the kind of people who were getting annual $100,000 million bonuses a few years back; the kind of people whose wives buy $26,000 handbags; and who give their wives $126,000 watches for an early Christmas surprise.
“As for the designers who developed the code, it’s rumored they were a few select complexity scientists and systems analysts who used to work for the National Infrastructure Simulation and Analysis Lab of Department of Homeland Security before it was all folded into the military. I’m sure they got their pick of which development to relocate to and have already moved in. But I doubt none of them even knows the whole sequence and the plan for its execution.”
“But why hasn’t anyone done anything to stop this? There must be someone who ...? Why didn’t you do something about it?”
“Like what? It’s leaked out on blogs every so often, been rampant on and off for at least a year on some conspiracy theorists’ sites. You can still find it out there if you go looking. Of course they never have the facts quite right, but who would believe it even if they did? Do you?” Ian’s tone betrayed deeply defensive feelings and he pivoted from his pacing to challenge us. Got right up in our faces, one by one. ”You want to take it on? How about you? Or you? You want to go to the LA Times with this tomorrow morning? Tell them about it? They’re going to take your word for it?”
“Well, what about your word?” Ryan slung back with a sharply accusatory edge to his voice.
Ian turn away and bowed his head, the back of his hunched shoulders illuminated eerily by the fire. “You don’t understand,” he muttered in disgust.
I stood up. It was late and the night air had grown cold. I was shivering. So were others. The lights in Chelsea’s room had gone out. The girls were asleep.
“We need a break!” I said. “Let’s go inside. Get some hot coffee and tea. Light a fire in the living room and sit down together to talk about what we’re going to do.”
And that’s what we did. I’m eager to tell you what we resolved to undertake and how it’s working out. It's actually surprisingly promising. But this post has already gotten so long (Sorry for that.) and I’ve got a really busy day ahead. We each needed some time to digest all this and I image you will too. Most of you probably won’t believe Ian’s tale. I fully understand. Believe me, I do. But think it over. It’s not implausible when you look at the situation the world is in. So think it over. It’s only a matter of time before this or something else will happen as a result of the huge economic vulnerabilities and environmental challenges we face. We really do need to prepare – right now! In some ways I imagine you know that too.
With compassion,
Rose
(I apologize if there are errors I’ve missed in this post. I’ve been rushing. No matter how fast we go, we can’t hurry fast enough to get everything done that needs doing.)
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Chapter 10: I Can't Be the Only One
My head is spinning with so many things. The talk with my daughter Chelsea about materialistic values after my visit to Cielo Nuestro with Gloria. Ned's mysterious secret, late-night visit with my husband, Mark, and the urgency with which he has begun stockpiling supplies at the clinic since then. The pressing call from Eric to proceed with letting the community know what's going on up on the Altos cul de sac. Now, a shocking announcement by Gloria ...
I'm trying sort all this out. First, after feeling so proud of Chelsea during our conversation about the difference between our simple values here in Katani Falls and the excessive materialism in Cielo Nuestro, I slipped into an unexpected nostalgic slump. In truth, Sarah, it was so very ambient there. So sparkling clean and new. The shops were filled with such truly beautiful things, the kind of things I used to buy without thinking about their cost or wastefulness; not unlike things I still treasure here in our house from when I lived a different life.
I remember how neat, clean, and elegantly dressed and quaffed the people there are. Their smiling faces, their carefree aire. The elegance of their food service and the leisureliness with which they ate, shopped, chatted ...
These images return unwanted to haunt me whenever I visit the households on Altos and see their determined weariness, the fatigue that permeates their long hours of caring for the land and the animals, growing and cooking so much of their food from scratch - on top of working to earn enough income to support their communal efforts.
The contrast is so pronounced. How run down and shoddy their once lovely homes and clothes have become from the wear and tear of their new way of life. All the wires and equipment and other materials, the clothes lines and giant pots and pans, strewn throughout the spaces of their homes and yards. It’s more like a production facility there than a place to live.
I keep asking myself ... what has become of us? Chelsea was right. I'm already looking pretty shoddy myself. Our home has grown pretty shoddy, too, just from our normal life, and we're not even producing anything here yet. I haven't thought about how our things "look" for so long. That’s obvious now that I do look. In the past we would have repainted, repaired, replaced a lot of furniture and other items some time ago. I might even have redecorated. What an anachronistic word that is: re-decorate. It assumes we’re "decorating."
Yesterday morning I took a sweater from the back of my closet. It had been lovely at one time. A pink beaded angora. I’d stashed it away when we moved here. Now it has moth holes throughout it (the cedar blocks I stored it with had faded). I shouldn't care. I actually don't care. It's a silly thing to have here in the forest. I don't need it or want to replace it. But, the thing is, in the past if I did want to replace it, I would have simply said, "Oh, dear, look what happened. I'll have to pick up another one." Now that's not an option, or at least it probably won't be in places other than Cielo Nuestro.
I know these considerations are petty, I’m not wanting to justify this sense of sadness I feel. Just share it. I gladly left the materialistic ethos behind years ago. But, still, I've been feeling an impending loss of choice, an irretrievably of lost of ambiance, refinement, beauty, convenience, and ease. Do any of you ever have embarrassing thoughts like this? Surely I'm not the only one.Are most of us are doomed to an exhausting, ugly world of toil? I ask again, is our choice to somehow escape to an exclusive (as in the true meaning of that word - excluding) fake facade-of a community like Cielo Nuevo or to endure a rundown, worn out, weary way of life that is simple only in our fantasies?
I ask this question in earnest because the folks on Altos are pressing hard now for me a write an article for our local paper called “Visit Our Sustainable Life” and inviting the community to come to a Sunday afternoon tour of their cul de sac. At their most recent meeting with me, I asked “Do you think the community is ready for what they're doing here?"
Ian, the software wizard and titular head who does most of the talking whenever I'm present, replied curtly, "It's ready-or-not time, Rose."
"Is it that urgent?” I asked.
"It's that urgent," he said.
I pressed to know more, "Why so urgent suddenly?"
"I can't get into that yet," he replied. "Just trust me, it's urgent."
His voice had that same flat, hard , final tone, as Mark's when I asked why after his late-night meeting with Ned he was feverishly ordering more meds and supplies for the clinic. "Because I think it's a good time to be stocked up," he'd replied as if that was that.
But I'm worried. What will happen when word about the projects on Altos get out? If seeing their way of life and even looking my own life with new eyes makes me feel weirdly nostalgic, how will it effect people who are still holding fast to their dreams for a return of fast-rising property values, of an upgraded golf course, and an expanded clubhouse? These are the people in power again here now.
And what about those who are just holding on by the skin of their teeth, waiting for things to improve? I overhear their comments all the time at the Post Office and clinic all the time. "Well, when things pick up again ..." or "Once this downturn is over ..." How will all these folks feel about the idea of growing food, raising chickens, milking goats, hanging their laundry outside to dry?
Even if they never imagine themselves doing any of these things, how will they take to their neighbors doing such things? Will they be angry? Scared? Will someone report the families on Altos to the authorities? Will the families get fined for code violations? Arrested for illegal activities? Ordered to cease and desist? Might there be someone who tries to vandalize or destroy the gardens or greenhouses? Hurt their animals? Set fire to their property? Will lots more folks decide to just "get out of Dodge?" Or chase the Altos families out of Dodge.
Then, as if worrying about these fear and feeling bizarrely nostalgia weren't enough, Gloria told me that, as I suspected, Ned's LA law firm does represent Cielo Nuevo, but unlike anything I expected, she confided to me that the firm is pressing Ned to move his family to Cielo Nuevo. That news, of course, like so much else these days, is a secret. She doesn't even want me to tell Mark. I don't think she knows that Ned came up for a "secret" meeting with Mark. I wonder if this was part of what Ned wanted to talk with Mark about?
As must as Gloria relished our day together in Cielo Nuevo, I'm relieved that she is at least ambivalent about moving. I guess I can understand her ambivalence. I know I wouldn't want to live there, but comparing the life on Altos and certainly life here without the hope of what Altos offers, I can see how Cielo Nuevo could have a definite pull for many. And Gloria doesn't even know about Altos yet!
Ah ha!!! that's it!!
I need to tell Ian, Erik, and the others on Altos that the place to start is not with a publicity push in the newspaper and a tour for the whole community. The place to start with a small supportive cadre of others who might be more open and supportive. Mark, of course. I desperately need to talk to my husband about all this. But also, Gloria and Ned, and maybe Megan and Ryan. They're still wanting to move to Cielo Nuevo, but their house still hasn’t sold. They have to be dealing with a lot of feelings and concerns right now. Maybe Suzanne will be coming back for awhile sometime soon. And of course, Erik and Julie, too, because they both live on Altos and were part of our old group.
I'll have a potluck, a reunion of sorts. Tell them there is a secret, earth-shaking problem they need to know about right away. Feel the group out cautiously that night, inviting Erik and Julie to tell them a little here and there as I watch for reactions and interest. If they're supportive, or at least curiously open in a positive way, then we can get together with others on Altos and brainstorm ideas together for the best way to proceed for involving the whole community.
If these folks aren't open to what's happening up there and what it could mean to the future of Katani Falls ... well ... then, at least we'll know more about what they're up against.
Thanks so much for listening!!! I can do this!
Rose.
(c) Sarah Anne Edwards (2009)
I'm trying sort all this out. First, after feeling so proud of Chelsea during our conversation about the difference between our simple values here in Katani Falls and the excessive materialism in Cielo Nuestro, I slipped into an unexpected nostalgic slump. In truth, Sarah, it was so very ambient there. So sparkling clean and new. The shops were filled with such truly beautiful things, the kind of things I used to buy without thinking about their cost or wastefulness; not unlike things I still treasure here in our house from when I lived a different life.
I remember how neat, clean, and elegantly dressed and quaffed the people there are. Their smiling faces, their carefree aire. The elegance of their food service and the leisureliness with which they ate, shopped, chatted ...
These images return unwanted to haunt me whenever I visit the households on Altos and see their determined weariness, the fatigue that permeates their long hours of caring for the land and the animals, growing and cooking so much of their food from scratch - on top of working to earn enough income to support their communal efforts.
The contrast is so pronounced. How run down and shoddy their once lovely homes and clothes have become from the wear and tear of their new way of life. All the wires and equipment and other materials, the clothes lines and giant pots and pans, strewn throughout the spaces of their homes and yards. It’s more like a production facility there than a place to live.
I keep asking myself ... what has become of us? Chelsea was right. I'm already looking pretty shoddy myself. Our home has grown pretty shoddy, too, just from our normal life, and we're not even producing anything here yet. I haven't thought about how our things "look" for so long. That’s obvious now that I do look. In the past we would have repainted, repaired, replaced a lot of furniture and other items some time ago. I might even have redecorated. What an anachronistic word that is: re-decorate. It assumes we’re "decorating."
Yesterday morning I took a sweater from the back of my closet. It had been lovely at one time. A pink beaded angora. I’d stashed it away when we moved here. Now it has moth holes throughout it (the cedar blocks I stored it with had faded). I shouldn't care. I actually don't care. It's a silly thing to have here in the forest. I don't need it or want to replace it. But, the thing is, in the past if I did want to replace it, I would have simply said, "Oh, dear, look what happened. I'll have to pick up another one." Now that's not an option, or at least it probably won't be in places other than Cielo Nuestro.
I know these considerations are petty, I’m not wanting to justify this sense of sadness I feel. Just share it. I gladly left the materialistic ethos behind years ago. But, still, I've been feeling an impending loss of choice, an irretrievably of lost of ambiance, refinement, beauty, convenience, and ease. Do any of you ever have embarrassing thoughts like this? Surely I'm not the only one.Are most of us are doomed to an exhausting, ugly world of toil? I ask again, is our choice to somehow escape to an exclusive (as in the true meaning of that word - excluding) fake facade-of a community like Cielo Nuevo or to endure a rundown, worn out, weary way of life that is simple only in our fantasies?
I ask this question in earnest because the folks on Altos are pressing hard now for me a write an article for our local paper called “Visit Our Sustainable Life” and inviting the community to come to a Sunday afternoon tour of their cul de sac. At their most recent meeting with me, I asked “Do you think the community is ready for what they're doing here?"
Ian, the software wizard and titular head who does most of the talking whenever I'm present, replied curtly, "It's ready-or-not time, Rose."
"Is it that urgent?” I asked.
"It's that urgent," he said.
I pressed to know more, "Why so urgent suddenly?"
"I can't get into that yet," he replied. "Just trust me, it's urgent."
His voice had that same flat, hard , final tone, as Mark's when I asked why after his late-night meeting with Ned he was feverishly ordering more meds and supplies for the clinic. "Because I think it's a good time to be stocked up," he'd replied as if that was that.
But I'm worried. What will happen when word about the projects on Altos get out? If seeing their way of life and even looking my own life with new eyes makes me feel weirdly nostalgic, how will it effect people who are still holding fast to their dreams for a return of fast-rising property values, of an upgraded golf course, and an expanded clubhouse? These are the people in power again here now.
And what about those who are just holding on by the skin of their teeth, waiting for things to improve? I overhear their comments all the time at the Post Office and clinic all the time. "Well, when things pick up again ..." or "Once this downturn is over ..." How will all these folks feel about the idea of growing food, raising chickens, milking goats, hanging their laundry outside to dry?
Even if they never imagine themselves doing any of these things, how will they take to their neighbors doing such things? Will they be angry? Scared? Will someone report the families on Altos to the authorities? Will the families get fined for code violations? Arrested for illegal activities? Ordered to cease and desist? Might there be someone who tries to vandalize or destroy the gardens or greenhouses? Hurt their animals? Set fire to their property? Will lots more folks decide to just "get out of Dodge?" Or chase the Altos families out of Dodge.
Then, as if worrying about these fear and feeling bizarrely nostalgia weren't enough, Gloria told me that, as I suspected, Ned's LA law firm does represent Cielo Nuevo, but unlike anything I expected, she confided to me that the firm is pressing Ned to move his family to Cielo Nuevo. That news, of course, like so much else these days, is a secret. She doesn't even want me to tell Mark. I don't think she knows that Ned came up for a "secret" meeting with Mark. I wonder if this was part of what Ned wanted to talk with Mark about?
As must as Gloria relished our day together in Cielo Nuevo, I'm relieved that she is at least ambivalent about moving. I guess I can understand her ambivalence. I know I wouldn't want to live there, but comparing the life on Altos and certainly life here without the hope of what Altos offers, I can see how Cielo Nuevo could have a definite pull for many. And Gloria doesn't even know about Altos yet!
Ah ha!!! that's it!!
I need to tell Ian, Erik, and the others on Altos that the place to start is not with a publicity push in the newspaper and a tour for the whole community. The place to start with a small supportive cadre of others who might be more open and supportive. Mark, of course. I desperately need to talk to my husband about all this. But also, Gloria and Ned, and maybe Megan and Ryan. They're still wanting to move to Cielo Nuevo, but their house still hasn’t sold. They have to be dealing with a lot of feelings and concerns right now. Maybe Suzanne will be coming back for awhile sometime soon. And of course, Erik and Julie, too, because they both live on Altos and were part of our old group.
I'll have a potluck, a reunion of sorts. Tell them there is a secret, earth-shaking problem they need to know about right away. Feel the group out cautiously that night, inviting Erik and Julie to tell them a little here and there as I watch for reactions and interest. If they're supportive, or at least curiously open in a positive way, then we can get together with others on Altos and brainstorm ideas together for the best way to proceed for involving the whole community.
If these folks aren't open to what's happening up there and what it could mean to the future of Katani Falls ... well ... then, at least we'll know more about what they're up against.
Thanks so much for listening!!! I can do this!
Rose.
(c) Sarah Anne Edwards (2009)
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Something Strange and Urgent
When I hadn't heard back from Erik about meeting with the folks on Altos again, I began to wonder if it had anything to do with an uncomfortable conversation I had with my daughter the other night.
We were in the kitchen while I was fixing dinner. It has been very cold so I was making a lamb stew to warm our cockles. Chelsea was sitting at the counter, her leg crossed, one bouncing slowly up and down like she does when she's impatient or nervous. Her scuffed up Merrill boots were still damp from walking home in the the snow.
"What do you think of Cielo Nuevo?' she asked, cocking her head quizzically.
"I had a good time there," I said, not really wanting to go into my many ambivalent feelings about the upscale "private" art community where Gloria gave me a luxurious day-at-the-spa treat for my birthday.
"I know you had a good time there with Gloria, Mom, You already said that," my daughter asserted in that you-are-so-hopelessly-pathetic tone only a tween can affect. "I want to know what you think of Cielo Nuevo!" Her leg stared to bounce up and down faster. Impatient child.
"Well," I sighed, "it is a very different kind of place."
"Would you want to live there?" Now she was looking at me with eager intensity.
"No, I definitely would not want to live there." No ambivalence there.
"Becca would rather live there," Chelsea, looking worried. "Becca says it's beautiful. Everything is clean and new and they have everything! Just everything you could want. A little movie theatre, tons of shops, and little bistros. She had a quail chanterelle quiche for lunch and started to laugh and roll her eyes when Wren and Carley and I didn't know what chantrelles are. Compared to there she thinks Katani Falls is like a third world country and that growing up here it was no wonder we didn't know that chanterelles were mushrooms. So why wouldn't you want us to live there?"
How would I answer that? I stopped stirring the stew and leaned against the stove. I could fell its warmth against my body. "For one thing, it's very expensive there. I don't know how I'd ever earn enough money to live there and still have a family life. Also it's a private community. Exclusive, as in excluding ordinary people. It's surrounded by walls. There are only two guarded gates in and out to keep out people who don't have permission to be there. It feels like a gilded prison to me."
Chelsea looked away, staring off at nothing in particular. I could see she was thinking, sorting out her feelings. I turned back to stir the stew and add the mushrooms - plain, ordinary white mushrooms.
"I don't think Becca is a happy person, Mom," she said after awhile. "The other day she was showing off all the things she bought on a shopping trip to Cielo Nuevo. She was wearing these grey suede UGGS, a special present from her dad, she said in this snotty tone. I thought the UGG's were pretty, but they already had mud stains on them. Really, who wears boots like those when the weather's like this, anyway?" Now Chelsea was rolling her eyes, but quickly shifted back to a concerned tone.
"Then Becca points to my boots and says, 'Everything here is dirty and old and scruddy.' Then she looks over at Wren who was sitting across the lunch table from us. "You folks only wear hackneyed standard brands - no style whatsoever - and even those are all worn out. Just look at you all in your cruddy faded sweatshirts and jeans!'
"Do you know that word, , Mom, hackneyed?" I nodded and started to explain, but Chelsea quickly added, "I looked it up. She meant dull and boring."
Chelsea looked down at the counter top. She was feeling self-conscious, I think, something I'd never seen in her before. I know, she's at an age when that's a common way for kids to to feel, but not so much here in Katani Falls. I hated seeing that look of unconditional self-doubt on her face. It was a feeling I'd known far too well for so much of my life.
"What do you think about our ways here?" I asked, wanting to see how deep this concern went.
"Well, I've never thought about it really. My boots are scuffed. So are yours. Your clothes are all old looking. Mine would be too if I didn't outgrow them every year, right? And we do get them a SaveOutdoors in the city. Everyone up here shops there. So we do all look pretty outdoorsy and, I guess, are pretty scruffy." She paused briefly before adding, "You always look pretty scruffy, Mom and your skin is dry and your hair is, well, ... " Her face clouded over in subtle frown verging on a pout as she looked up again, watching carefully to see how I would respond.
I'm sure she's right. I probably do look scruffy most of the time. I don't remember when I last bought any new clothes and there isn't anything stylish about me anymore. My hair? Well, it's shaggy. And my skin ... the day-spa glow had long vanished in our dry winter air. For just a moment I was tempted to feel defensive myself. I like the casual lifestyle here, I wanted to say. It's comfortable and functional. I keep myself up. I exercise, eat right. I think I look pretty good for a middle-aged woman ... But I quickly cut off that line of thought. This conversation wasn't about me, it was about Chelsea, so I just looked at her and smiled warmly. With that she continued.
"It just doesn't seem like how someone or something looks is all that important," she asserted, her voice firm and assureds, yet till slightly twinged with the remnants of the high pitch of childhood. "Isn't what we do an how well things hold up more important than how we look?"
"I think so," I said, feeling proud of my daughter for having incorporated so naturally the very values it had been so hard for me to adjust to when I was overcome with gratitude that we had moved here before Chelsea had to face the kind of image scrutiny snobbery Becca had obviously ready endured from growing up in LA.
"But, Mom, something's not right with Becca," Chelsea said after a moment's quiet. "Something is wrong in her family. She said it's always freezing in her house and they were trying to live like the dark ages. She thinks her dad wants to turn her Mom into a servant. Making her bake bread and grind grain, peel and cook all kinds of vegetable, and hang their laundry around the house to dry.
"Her mom's not well, you know," she added. "Becca says her dad makes her mom sick, slaving away, and that she's always unhappy and cries a lot."
An alarm went off in my stomach. My thoughts were racing. I could feel my pulse rate rising. What was going on? Was this just teenage exaggeration? Was Becca about to spill the Altos secrets? Had she said more? I was about to ask how the other girls at the table reacted to Becca's comments when Chelsea jumped back in.
"Nobody at the table knew what to say. Carley and I just looked at each other. Wren was slumped over, looking down and over to the side like maybe she didn't want anyone to see she was going to start crying or was going to flee from the lunch room. But then the bell rang and we all just go up and went to class."
I was sorting through possible ways to make sense of this scene. Chelsea was sitting hugging her heavy wool sweater tight around her. "It's cold in our house, too, Mom, but can't you just put on more clothes or go sit by the fire?"
I went over to the counter and gave her a snuggly hug. "Of course, darling. Of course. I'm sorry Becca is so unhappy and that her family seems to be having a hard time. Do you think we should do something for them? Maybe bake them a cake. Offer to help out. Maybe have them over for a movie night? " I admit my suggestions sound a little lame, but unsure just what is going on between Ian, Adriana and Becca, compassion seemed like the best response.
Chelsea jerked back and looked alarmed though. "No, no! I don't think we should bother them. Becca hasn't been back to school since then. Wren neither. I don't want to get them in trouble with Becca father!"
What is it with everyone being so afraid of Ian? I'd seen it in the eyes of my friends on Altos the night I visited there. I'd heart in it their voices. Well, I doubted Chelsea knew so I assured her that since I saw Rachel at the clinic everyday and I'd find out if they're OK without betraying any confidence."
"Yes, please, Mom, don't tell anyone," she said hugging me tight. "I'll call Wren tonight, see how she is. I hope she gets to come back to school again. It's sad her being way up there without any friends other than Becca."
Chelsea wandered off to call Wren and I went back to stirring the stew. Then it hit me in a flash. They know something. The people up on Altos. The people in Cielo Nuevo. They know something we don't, something frightening, something urgent, and they're preparing for it. Ian had used the word "collapse" the night of our meeting. It seemed an extreme choice of words to, but he'd said it as if it were a given one should take for granted. No one there seemed alarmed by it. Is there suddenly some sort of imminent collapse?
In that flash I felt sure of it was something like that and was more sure when Erik called yesterday to say they need to meet with me ... "Soon," he said, "soon." After last night I'm even more convinced. Ned came up from the city unexpectedly in the middle of the week to talk to Mark about "something legal." They were in the study with the door closed for a long time. When they came out, Ned asked me not to mention to Gloria about his being in Katani Falls. That he had to get right back to the law firm ... something about Cielo Nuevo, Mark told me later ... something he "wasn't at liberty to talk about."
We were in the kitchen while I was fixing dinner. It has been very cold so I was making a lamb stew to warm our cockles. Chelsea was sitting at the counter, her leg crossed, one bouncing slowly up and down like she does when she's impatient or nervous. Her scuffed up Merrill boots were still damp from walking home in the the snow.
"What do you think of Cielo Nuevo?' she asked, cocking her head quizzically.
"I had a good time there," I said, not really wanting to go into my many ambivalent feelings about the upscale "private" art community where Gloria gave me a luxurious day-at-the-spa treat for my birthday.
"I know you had a good time there with Gloria, Mom, You already said that," my daughter asserted in that you-are-so-hopelessly-pathetic tone only a tween can affect. "I want to know what you think of Cielo Nuevo!" Her leg stared to bounce up and down faster. Impatient child.
"Well," I sighed, "it is a very different kind of place."
"Would you want to live there?" Now she was looking at me with eager intensity.
"No, I definitely would not want to live there." No ambivalence there.
"Becca would rather live there," Chelsea, looking worried. "Becca says it's beautiful. Everything is clean and new and they have everything! Just everything you could want. A little movie theatre, tons of shops, and little bistros. She had a quail chanterelle quiche for lunch and started to laugh and roll her eyes when Wren and Carley and I didn't know what chantrelles are. Compared to there she thinks Katani Falls is like a third world country and that growing up here it was no wonder we didn't know that chanterelles were mushrooms. So why wouldn't you want us to live there?"
How would I answer that? I stopped stirring the stew and leaned against the stove. I could fell its warmth against my body. "For one thing, it's very expensive there. I don't know how I'd ever earn enough money to live there and still have a family life. Also it's a private community. Exclusive, as in excluding ordinary people. It's surrounded by walls. There are only two guarded gates in and out to keep out people who don't have permission to be there. It feels like a gilded prison to me."
Chelsea looked away, staring off at nothing in particular. I could see she was thinking, sorting out her feelings. I turned back to stir the stew and add the mushrooms - plain, ordinary white mushrooms.
"I don't think Becca is a happy person, Mom," she said after awhile. "The other day she was showing off all the things she bought on a shopping trip to Cielo Nuevo. She was wearing these grey suede UGGS, a special present from her dad, she said in this snotty tone. I thought the UGG's were pretty, but they already had mud stains on them. Really, who wears boots like those when the weather's like this, anyway?" Now Chelsea was rolling her eyes, but quickly shifted back to a concerned tone.
"Then Becca points to my boots and says, 'Everything here is dirty and old and scruddy.' Then she looks over at Wren who was sitting across the lunch table from us. "You folks only wear hackneyed standard brands - no style whatsoever - and even those are all worn out. Just look at you all in your cruddy faded sweatshirts and jeans!'
"Do you know that word, , Mom, hackneyed?" I nodded and started to explain, but Chelsea quickly added, "I looked it up. She meant dull and boring."
Chelsea looked down at the counter top. She was feeling self-conscious, I think, something I'd never seen in her before. I know, she's at an age when that's a common way for kids to to feel, but not so much here in Katani Falls. I hated seeing that look of unconditional self-doubt on her face. It was a feeling I'd known far too well for so much of my life.
"What do you think about our ways here?" I asked, wanting to see how deep this concern went.
"Well, I've never thought about it really. My boots are scuffed. So are yours. Your clothes are all old looking. Mine would be too if I didn't outgrow them every year, right? And we do get them a SaveOutdoors in the city. Everyone up here shops there. So we do all look pretty outdoorsy and, I guess, are pretty scruffy." She paused briefly before adding, "You always look pretty scruffy, Mom and your skin is dry and your hair is, well, ... " Her face clouded over in subtle frown verging on a pout as she looked up again, watching carefully to see how I would respond.
I'm sure she's right. I probably do look scruffy most of the time. I don't remember when I last bought any new clothes and there isn't anything stylish about me anymore. My hair? Well, it's shaggy. And my skin ... the day-spa glow had long vanished in our dry winter air. For just a moment I was tempted to feel defensive myself. I like the casual lifestyle here, I wanted to say. It's comfortable and functional. I keep myself up. I exercise, eat right. I think I look pretty good for a middle-aged woman ... But I quickly cut off that line of thought. This conversation wasn't about me, it was about Chelsea, so I just looked at her and smiled warmly. With that she continued.
"It just doesn't seem like how someone or something looks is all that important," she asserted, her voice firm and assureds, yet till slightly twinged with the remnants of the high pitch of childhood. "Isn't what we do an how well things hold up more important than how we look?"
"I think so," I said, feeling proud of my daughter for having incorporated so naturally the very values it had been so hard for me to adjust to when I was overcome with gratitude that we had moved here before Chelsea had to face the kind of image scrutiny snobbery Becca had obviously ready endured from growing up in LA.
"But, Mom, something's not right with Becca," Chelsea said after a moment's quiet. "Something is wrong in her family. She said it's always freezing in her house and they were trying to live like the dark ages. She thinks her dad wants to turn her Mom into a servant. Making her bake bread and grind grain, peel and cook all kinds of vegetable, and hang their laundry around the house to dry.
"Her mom's not well, you know," she added. "Becca says her dad makes her mom sick, slaving away, and that she's always unhappy and cries a lot."
An alarm went off in my stomach. My thoughts were racing. I could feel my pulse rate rising. What was going on? Was this just teenage exaggeration? Was Becca about to spill the Altos secrets? Had she said more? I was about to ask how the other girls at the table reacted to Becca's comments when Chelsea jumped back in.
"Nobody at the table knew what to say. Carley and I just looked at each other. Wren was slumped over, looking down and over to the side like maybe she didn't want anyone to see she was going to start crying or was going to flee from the lunch room. But then the bell rang and we all just go up and went to class."
I was sorting through possible ways to make sense of this scene. Chelsea was sitting hugging her heavy wool sweater tight around her. "It's cold in our house, too, Mom, but can't you just put on more clothes or go sit by the fire?"
I went over to the counter and gave her a snuggly hug. "Of course, darling. Of course. I'm sorry Becca is so unhappy and that her family seems to be having a hard time. Do you think we should do something for them? Maybe bake them a cake. Offer to help out. Maybe have them over for a movie night? " I admit my suggestions sound a little lame, but unsure just what is going on between Ian, Adriana and Becca, compassion seemed like the best response.
Chelsea jerked back and looked alarmed though. "No, no! I don't think we should bother them. Becca hasn't been back to school since then. Wren neither. I don't want to get them in trouble with Becca father!"
What is it with everyone being so afraid of Ian? I'd seen it in the eyes of my friends on Altos the night I visited there. I'd heart in it their voices. Well, I doubted Chelsea knew so I assured her that since I saw Rachel at the clinic everyday and I'd find out if they're OK without betraying any confidence."
"Yes, please, Mom, don't tell anyone," she said hugging me tight. "I'll call Wren tonight, see how she is. I hope she gets to come back to school again. It's sad her being way up there without any friends other than Becca."
Chelsea wandered off to call Wren and I went back to stirring the stew. Then it hit me in a flash. They know something. The people up on Altos. The people in Cielo Nuevo. They know something we don't, something frightening, something urgent, and they're preparing for it. Ian had used the word "collapse" the night of our meeting. It seemed an extreme choice of words to, but he'd said it as if it were a given one should take for granted. No one there seemed alarmed by it. Is there suddenly some sort of imminent collapse?
In that flash I felt sure of it was something like that and was more sure when Erik called yesterday to say they need to meet with me ... "Soon," he said, "soon." After last night I'm even more convinced. Ned came up from the city unexpectedly in the middle of the week to talk to Mark about "something legal." They were in the study with the door closed for a long time. When they came out, Ned asked me not to mention to Gloria about his being in Katani Falls. That he had to get right back to the law firm ... something about Cielo Nuevo, Mark told me later ... something he "wasn't at liberty to talk about."
(c) Sarah Anne Edwards (2009)
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Chapter 8: If This Is Our Choice
What a month! I've hardly had a chance to breath. We've had a deadly flu virus outbreak here. Four older people died from it this past month. Lots of others have been so ill, we had to set up out-patient "hospital care" by a team of volunteer retired nurses going to people's homes. Then, of course, there were the holidays. They were a lot of fun.
Seems Ned's law firm had a year-end windfall of some kind so he got a totally unexpected bonus. Gloria threw a big New Year's party with all kinds of exotic food she got from Cielo Grande, a new development about two hours away on the coast. That's where our friends Megan and Ryan are hoping to move, if they can ever sell their house. Well, that's Megan's goal anyway, ever since she had to close her art gallery here.
After things settled down a bit at the clinic, Gloria treated me with a trip to Cielo Grande's exclusive Day Spa for my birthday. I'm not really into that kind of thing anymore, but I could tell Gloria needed to give me this gift so I couldn't say no.
Actually it's our trip there that I need to tell you about. I haven't talked with the folks up on Altos since I posted last. There's just been too much going on that my involvement there has been left hanging. I appreciated everyone's comments urging me to work with them, though, and now, after going to Cielo Grande ... well, you'll see what I mean.
Cielo Grande is a private, gated community on the central coast. Actually there are two communities, one inside the other, each with one guarded gate. The outer ring consists of small farms and the inner ring is the town itself. Apparently most of their basic food is produced in the outer ring: produce, grain, eggs, cheese, milk, and meat. The town itself is as Megan has said an upscale art community, somewhat like Carmel or Beverly Hills used to be, except it isn't open to the public. To get past the guards at the gates, you either have to live there or be invited by someone who does.
There is a small port on the west side of the town where they import shipments of luxuries from around the world that fill the tiny shops lining their main street: clothing, jewelry, furnishings, culinary delicacies, and fine art. (No wonder Megan would love to be there.) The buildings, all of an adobe-like texture, look new and spotlessly clean, as do the cobble stone streets. There are no cars in the town proper. Parking spaces ring the inside wall that surrounds the town. Massive solar panels dot the surrounding hillsides.
The sea air there is so fresh and clear and the weather so mild we left our winter coats and sweaters in the car. There were few people on the street or in the shops, though. One has to wonder who buys the beautiful things there. Those we saw were unhurried, casually well-dressed men and women who walked with a light step and laughed convivially at small, sidewalk cafe tables.
The Day Spa itself is tiny but lavish. So opulent that for Gloria's sake I had to work at not showing how uncomfortable I felt being there, knowing all the economic pain most people in the country are going through now, especially those in the cities. Originally she wanted us to have a day of body wraps, peels, soaks, saunas, and massages and then stay over night to have our hair, nails and toes done, but I didn't want to be away that long and such extravagances are not really my thing any more. Gloria seemed to relish it, though, like someone whose had found an oasis after wandering for days in the desert. At the end of the day I was so relaxed I felt like I could melt into a puddle of wax and it did feel good.
What puzzled me most was that all matters of payment were very hush, hush. As if to mention money would foul the mood. After a bit of prodding Gloria explained it had all arranged through Ned's law firm. A month ago the firm was laying off staff so I suspect Cielo Grande must be a new client and what occasioned the unexpected year-end bonus and the festive New Year's gala.
After our spa treatments Gloria wanted to shop for awhile. I must admit the shops there are exquisite. Each one like a little art museum. Gloria looked longingly at many items, but bought only one item, a damask table cloth on sale for $300. She kept offering to buy me something. "Don't you want just a little something to take home?" she kept asking. She felt like a dieter who had gone binge wanted me to share heir guilt. While everything in the shops was lovely to look at, I didn't see anything I need, so I kept demurring.
My lack of enthusiasm didn't dampened her spirits though. She was aglow and kept saying "Isn't this wonderful! It's like old times," referring of course to long ago when we lived in the city and were literally killing ourselves to make enough money to enjoy splurges like this.
Before leaving we stopped into a pharmacy attached to a state-of-the art clinic with the names of a full contingent of medical specialists on the directory. There weren't many people there either and Gloria confessed that she had to provide certification from Mark that neither of us had the flu before they would issue our electronic pass code to the guards at the gates. Gloria picked up a case of over-the-counter medication that was waiting for her and commented off hand. "What good is having money to spend if there's no place to buy what you need?"
I wanted to reply, what good is having so many wonderful things to sell if there's no one who can afford to buy them? But retrained myself.
On our way to the car we ran into Lorraine and Becca. Lorraine, if you recall, is an actress, or at least strives to be one. She was staying with her mother in Katani Falls while recovering from chronic fatigue when we moved here. Since then she and her husband Lee moved to Sacramento where he's a "Green Growth" lobbyist (I know, that's an oxymoron). But now her mother who lives alone and is getting quite feeble is suffering with the flu, so Lorraine has come down to take care of her.
You undoubtedly remember Becca, the unhappy teenager you met the last time I posted. She's the Ian's daughter, the software mogul who's financing the under-the-radar projects up on Altos. His wife Adriana has been god friends with Lorraine since they met at the clinic, drawn together by the shared burden of an immune disorder. Still I was surprised to see Becca and Lorraine together in Cielo Grande.
Looking freshly coiffed and much happier than when I met her, Becca seemed embarrassed to see me and rushed off in a flurry of sweetly feigned exuberance to peek into a nearly shop.
"Becca really needed to get away," Lorraine explained. "Her dad called yesterday to ask if I'd take her shopping and get her hair and nails done here. He set it all up for us to get in and dropped her off at mother's early this morning. This place is something. I didn't even know it was here!" She looked away as if looking after Becca.
I couldn't read Lorraine's impression of Ceilo Grande. She seemed more astonished than pleased, but I noticed both she and Becca were laden with an assortment of colorful, glossy shopping bags, like a scene from an episode of that old TV series Sex in the City.
When Becca got back she held up one particularly large bag up for me to see. "I got those grey suede UGGS my dad promised!" she said grinning triumphantly. Lorraine rolled her eyes as if to say "Kids!" Then we parted with quick hugs all round.
En route home, Gloria kept telling me how great I looked and checking to be sure I'd had a good time. I guess I wasn't congruent in my appreciation. I did have a good time, mostly because I was glad to see Gloria so happy. But, Sarah, I didn't like what I saw there. How is it that there can be a place like this in times like these? Who gets to live there? How do Ned and Ian have access to it? Given Ian's reduced salary, his tiny house, and the financial pressures of financing the compound, how can he afford to shower Becca with a shopping trip like this? I know it's none of my business really, but just what is the story of Cielo Grande?
A comment Gloria made as she dropped me off at home summed up the day for me. "If this is our choice," she said, "if it's between living in Katani Falls, barely getting by, never knowing if the lights will be on, if we'll have heat, or if our medications and living someplace like Ceilo Grande where everything still works and there's every comfort imaginable ... well, I would choose there."
The first cloud of the day passed across her face as she said that. "But, of course, no one who lives in Katani Falls can afford to live there," she added, her voice dropping.
I was saddened by the choice she posed, especially knowing there might be another even more unusual one. Could what they're doing on Altos be our best alternative now? The best we could hope for? Is it even possible for everyone in Katani Falls to live that way? Could I help make that possible? Gloria's words keep running through my mind. "If this is our choice ..."
... then my choice is clear.
Seems Ned's law firm had a year-end windfall of some kind so he got a totally unexpected bonus. Gloria threw a big New Year's party with all kinds of exotic food she got from Cielo Grande, a new development about two hours away on the coast. That's where our friends Megan and Ryan are hoping to move, if they can ever sell their house. Well, that's Megan's goal anyway, ever since she had to close her art gallery here.
After things settled down a bit at the clinic, Gloria treated me with a trip to Cielo Grande's exclusive Day Spa for my birthday. I'm not really into that kind of thing anymore, but I could tell Gloria needed to give me this gift so I couldn't say no.
Actually it's our trip there that I need to tell you about. I haven't talked with the folks up on Altos since I posted last. There's just been too much going on that my involvement there has been left hanging. I appreciated everyone's comments urging me to work with them, though, and now, after going to Cielo Grande ... well, you'll see what I mean.
Cielo Grande is a private, gated community on the central coast. Actually there are two communities, one inside the other, each with one guarded gate. The outer ring consists of small farms and the inner ring is the town itself. Apparently most of their basic food is produced in the outer ring: produce, grain, eggs, cheese, milk, and meat. The town itself is as Megan has said an upscale art community, somewhat like Carmel or Beverly Hills used to be, except it isn't open to the public. To get past the guards at the gates, you either have to live there or be invited by someone who does.
There is a small port on the west side of the town where they import shipments of luxuries from around the world that fill the tiny shops lining their main street: clothing, jewelry, furnishings, culinary delicacies, and fine art. (No wonder Megan would love to be there.) The buildings, all of an adobe-like texture, look new and spotlessly clean, as do the cobble stone streets. There are no cars in the town proper. Parking spaces ring the inside wall that surrounds the town. Massive solar panels dot the surrounding hillsides.
The sea air there is so fresh and clear and the weather so mild we left our winter coats and sweaters in the car. There were few people on the street or in the shops, though. One has to wonder who buys the beautiful things there. Those we saw were unhurried, casually well-dressed men and women who walked with a light step and laughed convivially at small, sidewalk cafe tables.
The Day Spa itself is tiny but lavish. So opulent that for Gloria's sake I had to work at not showing how uncomfortable I felt being there, knowing all the economic pain most people in the country are going through now, especially those in the cities. Originally she wanted us to have a day of body wraps, peels, soaks, saunas, and massages and then stay over night to have our hair, nails and toes done, but I didn't want to be away that long and such extravagances are not really my thing any more. Gloria seemed to relish it, though, like someone whose had found an oasis after wandering for days in the desert. At the end of the day I was so relaxed I felt like I could melt into a puddle of wax and it did feel good.
What puzzled me most was that all matters of payment were very hush, hush. As if to mention money would foul the mood. After a bit of prodding Gloria explained it had all arranged through Ned's law firm. A month ago the firm was laying off staff so I suspect Cielo Grande must be a new client and what occasioned the unexpected year-end bonus and the festive New Year's gala.
After our spa treatments Gloria wanted to shop for awhile. I must admit the shops there are exquisite. Each one like a little art museum. Gloria looked longingly at many items, but bought only one item, a damask table cloth on sale for $300. She kept offering to buy me something. "Don't you want just a little something to take home?" she kept asking. She felt like a dieter who had gone binge wanted me to share heir guilt. While everything in the shops was lovely to look at, I didn't see anything I need, so I kept demurring.
My lack of enthusiasm didn't dampened her spirits though. She was aglow and kept saying "Isn't this wonderful! It's like old times," referring of course to long ago when we lived in the city and were literally killing ourselves to make enough money to enjoy splurges like this.
Before leaving we stopped into a pharmacy attached to a state-of-the art clinic with the names of a full contingent of medical specialists on the directory. There weren't many people there either and Gloria confessed that she had to provide certification from Mark that neither of us had the flu before they would issue our electronic pass code to the guards at the gates. Gloria picked up a case of over-the-counter medication that was waiting for her and commented off hand. "What good is having money to spend if there's no place to buy what you need?"
I wanted to reply, what good is having so many wonderful things to sell if there's no one who can afford to buy them? But retrained myself.
On our way to the car we ran into Lorraine and Becca. Lorraine, if you recall, is an actress, or at least strives to be one. She was staying with her mother in Katani Falls while recovering from chronic fatigue when we moved here. Since then she and her husband Lee moved to Sacramento where he's a "Green Growth" lobbyist (I know, that's an oxymoron). But now her mother who lives alone and is getting quite feeble is suffering with the flu, so Lorraine has come down to take care of her.
You undoubtedly remember Becca, the unhappy teenager you met the last time I posted. She's the Ian's daughter, the software mogul who's financing the under-the-radar projects up on Altos. His wife Adriana has been god friends with Lorraine since they met at the clinic, drawn together by the shared burden of an immune disorder. Still I was surprised to see Becca and Lorraine together in Cielo Grande.
Looking freshly coiffed and much happier than when I met her, Becca seemed embarrassed to see me and rushed off in a flurry of sweetly feigned exuberance to peek into a nearly shop.
"Becca really needed to get away," Lorraine explained. "Her dad called yesterday to ask if I'd take her shopping and get her hair and nails done here. He set it all up for us to get in and dropped her off at mother's early this morning. This place is something. I didn't even know it was here!" She looked away as if looking after Becca.
I couldn't read Lorraine's impression of Ceilo Grande. She seemed more astonished than pleased, but I noticed both she and Becca were laden with an assortment of colorful, glossy shopping bags, like a scene from an episode of that old TV series Sex in the City.
When Becca got back she held up one particularly large bag up for me to see. "I got those grey suede UGGS my dad promised!" she said grinning triumphantly. Lorraine rolled her eyes as if to say "Kids!" Then we parted with quick hugs all round.
En route home, Gloria kept telling me how great I looked and checking to be sure I'd had a good time. I guess I wasn't congruent in my appreciation. I did have a good time, mostly because I was glad to see Gloria so happy. But, Sarah, I didn't like what I saw there. How is it that there can be a place like this in times like these? Who gets to live there? How do Ned and Ian have access to it? Given Ian's reduced salary, his tiny house, and the financial pressures of financing the compound, how can he afford to shower Becca with a shopping trip like this? I know it's none of my business really, but just what is the story of Cielo Grande?
A comment Gloria made as she dropped me off at home summed up the day for me. "If this is our choice," she said, "if it's between living in Katani Falls, barely getting by, never knowing if the lights will be on, if we'll have heat, or if our medications and living someplace like Ceilo Grande where everything still works and there's every comfort imaginable ... well, I would choose there."
The first cloud of the day passed across her face as she said that. "But, of course, no one who lives in Katani Falls can afford to live there," she added, her voice dropping.
I was saddened by the choice she posed, especially knowing there might be another even more unusual one. Could what they're doing on Altos be our best alternative now? The best we could hope for? Is it even possible for everyone in Katani Falls to live that way? Could I help make that possible? Gloria's words keep running through my mind. "If this is our choice ..."
... then my choice is clear.
(c) Sarah Anne Edwards, 2009
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